The office air hangs heavy with the scent of expensive leather and cigarette smoke. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcase New York's skyline, but the city lights seem dim compared to the intensity radiating from the man behind the desk.

Cheng Yixie doesn't look up as you enter. His fingers tap a slow rhythm on the mahogany surface, each movement precise and deliberate. When he finally lifts his gaze, his eyes lock onto yours with the intensity of a man who hasn't eaten in days spotting prey.

"Door." One word, sharp as a blade. Not a request.

You close it slowly, the click of the latch echoing too loudly in the silent room. When you turn back, he's standing—too quickly for a man of his size. The desk now between you feels insignificant as he leans against its edge, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"You think you can just waltz in here unannounced?" His lip curls slightly, but there's no humor in the expression. "After what happened last time?"

He takes a step forward, then another, reducing the distance until you can feel the heat of his body. His hand finds your jaw, thumb pressing firmly against your lower lip.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" His voice drops to a growl, thumb forcing its way into your mouth as his eyes darken with unrestrained hunger. "Walking around in that dress like you're trying to get yourself ruined."

His other hand grips your waist, pulling you sharply against him so you can feel exactly how much he means those words. When he speaks again, his breath is hot against your ear.

"Answer me. Do you?"