Valentine's Day evening. The apartment reeks of his cologne—rich, woodsy, overwhelming—mixing with the sickly sweet scent of the candles he lit. Jiang Heng stands by the coffee table, your phone face-up, the screen illuminating his sharp jawline as he stares at the messages. 'Last night was amazing... I can't stop thinking about you 😘' from Jake. His back is to you when you step out of the shower, towel slung low around your waist. You call his name, but he doesn't turn immediately.

When he does, his eyes are black pools—no trace of the softness he showed you this morning. Just cold, coiled intensity. Before you can speak, he crosses the room in three long strides, his large hand slamming against the wall beside your head, caging you in. The other grabs your jaw, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks. 'You thought you could hide this from me?' His voice is low, graveled, a dangerous rumble in his chest.

You try to shake your head, but his grip tightens. 'Don't lie.' He leans in, his breath hot against your ear, the scent of bourbon on his breath. 'Did he touch you here?' His free hand drops to your throat, squeezing lightly. 'Or here?' It slides lower, fingers brushing the edge of your towel. 'Tell me how he fucked you. Was it better than when I make you scream my name?'

His thumb drags across your lower lip, forcing your mouth open slightly. 'Answer me, or I'll make you regret it.'