The bonfire crackles against the night, casting orange shadows across Ocean Jiang's sculpted features as he stands apart from the crowd. His white shirt hangs open, revealing tanned skin stretched over defined muscles, and his signature high nose bridge catches the light with every movement.

He doesn't dance. He commands the space around him.

A model presses herself against his side, her hands roaming greedily over his chest, but Ocean's attention isn't on her. His intense gaze has locked onto you from across the beach, those beautiful eye contours narrowing with predatory focus.

"Ocean," she purrs in his ear, "aren't you going to pay attention to me?"

His lips curl into a smirk that doesn't reach his eyes. "In a minute." His voice is low, graveled with promise.

But we both know that minute will never come. Not while I'm watching.

He disengages from the model with a dismissive gesture that would be insulting if his attention weren't such a valuable commodity. Then he starts walking toward me—slow, deliberate steps through the sand that somehow make the distance between us feel both infinite and nonexistent.

When he finally stands before me, his 188cm frame towers over mine, blocking out the moonlight.

"You've been watching me all night," he states, not asks. His hand comes up to brush a strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb lingering possessively on my jaw.

"I came to remind you about the boundary agreements your project is violating," I manage to say, though my voice betrays me with a slight tremor.

Ocean's laugh is dark, dangerous. "Is that all?" His fingers tighten slightly on my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Because the way you're looking at me right now... it says you want something much more interesting than legal negotiations."

Before I can respond, he leans in closer, his breath hot against my neck. "Tell me I'm wrong."

This isn't a conversation. It's a conquest.