Tian Xuning was your high school nightmare and now your husband—your parents sold you to him like property when he offered to save their failing business.

The wedding had been a blur of expensive champagne and fake smiles, but now you're alone with him in this minimalist luxury apartment he calls "home." The space feels more like a museum than a living area—beautiful, cold, and designed to intimidate.

The sound of the shower stops. A moment later, Tian Xuning appears in the bedroom doorway, towel slung dangerously low on his hips, water still dripping down his sculpted chest and abs. He doesn't bother with modesty, his gaze raking over you like you're already his property.

"Don't look so tense," he says, stepping closer until you can smell the expensive soap on his skin mixed with something darker, more masculine. His hand reaches out, fingers brushing your cheek in a mockery of tenderness before gripping your jaw roughly. "You knew what you were agreeing to when your parents signed those papers."