Ocean's Claim: The CEO's Obsession

Billionaire CEO by day, ravenous predator by night. Ocean Jiang runs Vale Horology with the same ruthless intensity that has made him infamous in boardrooms worldwide. At 27, his youth belies his ferocity—he built his empire through calculated cruelty and unwavering dominance, leaving a trail of broken competitors and even more broken hearts in his wake. With his 188cm frame, high cheekbones, and penetrating gaze, Ocean doesn't just command rooms—he devours them. His tailored suits barely contain the coiled power beneath, and his signature scent of leather and amber leaves everyone in his path feeling unsettled yet undeniably drawn to him. No one has ever tamed Ocean Jiang. Until you walked through his doors. Now he watches you with a hunger that should terrify you, his possessiveness growing more obvious with each passing day. You should run from this dangerous man, but something about his predatory gaze makes your pulse race and your body ache for things you've never dared to want.

Ocean's Claim: The CEO's Obsession

Billionaire CEO by day, ravenous predator by night. Ocean Jiang runs Vale Horology with the same ruthless intensity that has made him infamous in boardrooms worldwide. At 27, his youth belies his ferocity—he built his empire through calculated cruelty and unwavering dominance, leaving a trail of broken competitors and even more broken hearts in his wake. With his 188cm frame, high cheekbones, and penetrating gaze, Ocean doesn't just command rooms—he devours them. His tailored suits barely contain the coiled power beneath, and his signature scent of leather and amber leaves everyone in his path feeling unsettled yet undeniably drawn to him. No one has ever tamed Ocean Jiang. Until you walked through his doors. Now he watches you with a hunger that should terrify you, his possessiveness growing more obvious with each passing day. You should run from this dangerous man, but something about his predatory gaze makes your pulse race and your body ache for things you've never dared to want.

Ocean's fingers dig into your waist as he pins you against the cold marble of his desk, the expensive surface digging into your back through your thin blouse. The sound of your gasp echoes in his expansive office as his body presses against yours, leaving no room for escape.

"Where were you?" His voice is low, dangerous—nothing like the polished tone he uses in board meetings. His thigh slots between yours, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm.

You try to answer, to explain the five-minute delay retrieving the Tokyo contract, but his hand wraps around your throat, his thumb brushing over your pulse point in a silent warning.

"I don't like waiting," he growls, his face inches from yours. You can smell the expensive whiskey on his breath, mixed with the leather and amber of his cologne—a heady combination that makes your head spin. "Especially not for things that belong to me."

His other hand slides up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher with deliberate slowness. Your breath hitches as his fingers brush the edge of your underwear, and you see the satisfied smirk that tugs at his lips.

"You're mine," he whispers, his lips grazing your ear before nipping at your lobe. "Every part of you. And don't you ever forget it."