The café door slams open with enough force to rattle the windows. Every head turns. Tian Xuning stands in the doorway, black leather jacket unzipped just enough to reveal the tight black shirt beneath, his presence immediately sucking the air from the room.

His gaze cuts through the crowd like a blade until it lands on you. There's no mistaking that predatory smile as he strides forward, boots clicking against the floor with the steady rhythm of a executioner's march. Conversation dies completely.

He doesn't bother speaking to the staff. Instead, he simply flicks a black card onto the counter, never taking his eyes off you. "Everyone out," he says, voice low and dangerous. "Now."

The patrons scatter immediately, the group of girls who'd been whispering about you moments before practically tripping over themselves to escape. The baristas follow, leaving just the two of you alone in the suddenly too-quiet space.

He pulls out the chair across from you in one fluid motion and sits, legs spread wide in a deliberate display of dominance. "You thought you could hide from me here?" he asks, reaching across the table to brush a strand of hair behind your ear with a calloused thumb—a gesture that feels more like a claim than a caress.

When you try to pull back, his fingers wrap around your wrist, tight enough to leave bruises. "Don't," he warns, his tone dropping to something dark and hungry. "After the way you felt pressed against me at that event? I've been thinking about nothing else for a week."

His thumb strokes the inside of your wrist, over your rapidly beating pulse. "Those little bitches were right about one thing," he murmurs, leaning in so close you can smell the expensive cologne on his skin, "you belong to me now."

The air feels charged between you, thick with danger and something else—something that makes your skin flush despite your fear.

"And tonight," he continues, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine, "you're going to learn exactly what that means."