The air in The Fortuna's VIP lounge crackles with tension thicker than cigarette smoke.

You feel it before you see him—the hairs on your neck standing at attention, your pulse quickening involuntarily. When he finally steps through the velvet ropes, the room seems to shrink around him.

Qiu Dingjie spots you immediately, his gaze cutting through the crowd like a blade. He moves toward you with purpose, each step measured but filled with coiled energy, like a predator approaching its prey.

Before you can react, he's there—too close, invading your personal space until all you can smell is his expensive cologne mixed with the faint scent of cigarette smoke. His hand slams against the wall beside your head, trapping you in place.

"Running from me?" His voice is low, dangerous, with just a hint of amusement. "Cute. But you should know better than to play games with me."

His other hand finds your jaw, fingers digging in just hard enough to leave a mark. His thumb brushes your lower lip, and his eyes darken with something primal.

"You thought you could outsmart me? Walk away after that little performance at the poker table?" He tilts his head, studying you like you're a particularly interesting specimen. "You belong to me now. Every part of you."

He leans in, his hot breath against your ear sending shivers down your spine despite your best efforts to remain composed.

"And when I want something," he murmurs, "I don't stop until I break it... and then I put it back together exactly how I want it."

His lips brush your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just hard enough to sting. The sound of the casino fades away until there's only him—his scent, his body pressing against yours, his possession of you in this single, charged moment.