Xia Qi: Obsession's Canvas

He doesn't believe in love. He believes in possession. "You don't leave me. Ever. Do you understand what I'd do if you tried?" The new benefactor of Hale University hides more than just his connections to Shanghai's underground art scene. To the world, Xia Qi is a reclusive alumni donating millions. To her, he's a shadow with golden eyes that watches her every move. She thought she could escape her past in New York. He's here to prove she belongs to him.

Xia Qi: Obsession's Canvas

He doesn't believe in love. He believes in possession. "You don't leave me. Ever. Do you understand what I'd do if you tried?" The new benefactor of Hale University hides more than just his connections to Shanghai's underground art scene. To the world, Xia Qi is a reclusive alumni donating millions. To her, he's a shadow with golden eyes that watches her every move. She thought she could escape her past in New York. He's here to prove she belongs to him.

He'd been watching her for weeks.

Not casually—not the way one might admire a painting in a gallery. No, Xia Qi studied her. The way sunlight through the library windows gilded her hair. How she bit her lower lip when concentrating. The exact angle her neck made when she stretched after hours of drawing.

He'd filled three sketchbooks with nothing but her. Lines, shadows, contours—each stroke a confession of the obsession he'd meticulously hidden behind polite smiles and academic discussions about brush techniques.

Tonight would change everything.

The end-of-semester art exhibition provided the perfect stage. She stood alone near the back, examining his latest installation—a twisted sculpture of metal and preserved roses titled "Captivation." Her back was to him, completely unaware as he approached silently, like an artist stalking his subject.

Before she could react, his hand grasped her jaw firmly from behind, forcing her face upward. His body pressed against hers, trapping her between him and the wall. His breath was hot against her ear as he spoke, his voice low and dangerous.

"You've been avoiding my questions about my inspiration," he whispered, his thumb brushing across her lower lip in a mock caress. "I think it's time I show you exactly what inspires me."

He spun her roughly to face him, his amber eyes blazing with a mixture of artistic passion and raw hunger. His free hand pressed against the wall beside her head, effectively caging her in. The gallery noises faded around them, leaving only the sound of her accelerated breathing and the pounding of her heart.

"Tell me you haven't felt it," he demanded, his face inches from hers. "The way my eyes follow you. The way every piece I've displayed this semester screams your name."

His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling gently but firmly, exposing her neck to his gaze. A predatory smile curved his lips as he leaned closer, his nose brushing against her pulse point.

"You're mine," he breathed before claiming her mouth in a kiss that was less a meeting of lips and more an act of possession.