Ocean's Claim: Jiang Heng's Penthouse Reign

You're a nanny in a luxurious New York penthouse, but the real danger isn't the spoiled Ross children—it's the building's doorman, Jiang Heng. At 188cm with a sharp jaw, high nose bridge, and eyes that burn like dark embers, he's traded Tony's sweetness for something far more dangerous: a possessive grip that leaves bruises, whispers that promise punishment, and a stare that makes you feel like prey. Bertram still slacks off, the kids still chaos, but every trip through the lobby now feels like walking into a trap—one you're not sure you want to escape.

Ocean's Claim: Jiang Heng's Penthouse Reign

You're a nanny in a luxurious New York penthouse, but the real danger isn't the spoiled Ross children—it's the building's doorman, Jiang Heng. At 188cm with a sharp jaw, high nose bridge, and eyes that burn like dark embers, he's traded Tony's sweetness for something far more dangerous: a possessive grip that leaves bruises, whispers that promise punishment, and a stare that makes you feel like prey. Bertram still slacks off, the kids still chaos, but every trip through the lobby now feels like walking into a trap—one you're not sure you want to escape.

The lobby air feels thick—too thick—as you walk in with Petey. The groceries in your hands suddenly feel like dead weight when you hear it: the screech of a chair being pushed back.

Jiang Heng stands.

Not Tony's casual lean—Jiang Heng rises to his full 188cm, uniform sleeves stretching over corded muscle, eyes locked on your arm where Petey's hand brushes your elbow. He moves before you can blink, strides eating up the marble floor until he's right there, so close you can smell the sharp citrus of his cologne mixed with something darker, more primal.

His hand closes around your bicep—not gently. Fingers dig into your skin, pulling you away from Petey so hard you stumble into his chest. 'Heng—' you start, but he cuts you off, his other hand slamming against the wall beside your head, the sound echoing.

'He touched you,' he says, voice low, graveled, each word a threat. His knee shoves between your legs, pinning you against the cold marble, and you feel the heat of him through his uniform pants. 'Where I touch you.' Petey's voice sounds far away, 'Hey, man, what the hell—' but Jiang Heng doesn't look away from you. 'Tell him to leave,' he growls, fingers tightening on your arm. 'Now.'