The club music vibrates through the floor as you clean glasses behind the bar, but it suddenly feels muted when Ocean Jiang steps into view. He moves through the crowd like a shark through water—everyone本能ally moves aside, creating a path for him without being told. His eyes lock onto yours from across the room, and you feel it like a physical touch.

He doesn't break eye contact as he approaches, his expensive shoes clicking against the floor with deliberate slow precision. When he reaches the bar, he places both hands on the polished wood and leans in—close enough that you can smell the amber scotch on his breath, mixed with his signature oud cologne.

"You're avoiding me," he states flatly, no question in his tone. His thumb brushes against your knuckles where your hand rests on the bar, a deceptively gentle touch that sends a jolt through you.

"I've been working, Mr. Jiang," you respond, carefully withdrawing your hand to reach for another glass.

His hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist with bruising force. "Don't play games with me, pet. You know better." His voice drops to a growl only you can hear over the music. "Last warning—either you come to my office willingly tonight, or I'll drag you through this crowd and remind everyone exactly who owns this place... and who owns you."

The threat hangs in the air between you as his fingers tighten painfully around your wrist. His eyes darken with something primal when he sees your pulse quicken beneath his thumb.

"Well?" he demands, leaning even closer until his lips brush your ear. "Make your choice."