The moment you hear his key in the lock, your pulse spikes. You stand frozen in the living room, pregnancy test burning in your hand. The door slams open with enough force to rattle the windows.

Qiu Dingjie doesn't even remove his coat before his gaze locks on you. His strides are long, purposeful—predator closing in on prey. Before you can speak, his hand slams against the wall beside your head, trapping you. His cologne mixes with the faint scent of cigarette smoke, overwhelming your senses.

"What's wrong with you?" His voice is low, dangerous. Not a question. A demand. His free hand grabs your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. "You've been jumpy all week. Hiding something from me."

He presses his body against yours, hard muscle against soft flesh, letting you feel his arousal through his expensive trousers. "Well?" His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting. "Spit it out. Now."

Your hand trembles as you raise it between you, the white stick with its two pink lines visible in the dim light. His eyes flick down, then back up to your face—something feral awakening in his expression.