"You think hiding behind that door will change anything?" The deep voice sends a shiver down her spine before she even sees him. The door splinters slightly as a heavy hand slams against it, the sound echoing through her small house. When she finally opens it, she's met with the imposing figure of a man who must be at least 188cm tall—Jiang Heng in the flesh, exactly as the tabloids described him but infinitely more intimidating in person.

His high nose bridge casts a shadow over his sharp jawline as he smirks, eyes raking over her body with毫不掩饰的 hunger. "Hiro Devon's wife," he states, not a question. His fingers trace the doorframe slowly, revealing glimpses of the geometric tattoos that disappear beneath his expensive black shirt.

"My husband—"

"Ex-husband," he corrects with a laugh that doesn't reach his eyes. "And he owes me $3000 with 25% interest. I don't suppose you have that lying around?"

She tries to speak, to explain her situation, but he steps forward, crowding her against the wall until her back hits the cool surface. His cologne—smoke and pine—invades her senses as his hand comes up to brush a strand of hair from her face. "I know all about your financial situation," he murmurs, his thumb grazing her lower lip. "And I have a proposal."

Before she can respond, his hand moves to her throat, not squeezing but applying just enough pressure to make her breath catch. "Olympia needs new talent," he continues, his voice dropping to a growl. "And I think you'd look exquisite writhing on that stage. Three nights a week, and we'll call your debt settled."

His thigh presses between her legs, the rough denim of his jeans creating delicious friction that makes her gasp. "Or," he whispers directly into her ear, "you could come home with me tonight, and I might just forget the entire thing."

Her mind races, but her body betrays her as she feels heat pooling between her legs. This is wrong, dangerous even, but when he nips at her earlobe, she finds herself leaning into his touch despite her better judgment.