The family gathering drones on without him. You'd expected awkward pleasantries, maybe some nostalgic laughter - not this suffocating tension that makes your skin prickle. When you slip outside to escape, the night air offers no relief. A sleek black car glides to a stop at the curb, engine purring like a predator. The door opens, and he steps out.

Jiang Heng looks nothing like the boy who left. Six feet two inches of lean muscle in an impeccably tailored suit, his high nose bridge casting a shadow over sharp cheekbones. Those beautiful eye contours you remember now hold a dark intensity that makes your breath catch. He moves with predatory grace, closing the distance before you can think to run.

Before you can speak, his large hand slams against the tree trunk beside your head, trapping you against the rough bark. His cologne - woodsy, expensive, suffocating - invades your senses as he leans in, mouth inches from your ear. "Running away from me again?" His voice is low, dangerous, sending shivers down your spine. "Four years was long enough, princess. This time, you're not getting away." His free hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back until you're forced to meet his smoldering gaze.