The penthouse elevator dings, and you flinch. Chains rattle at your wrists, securing you to the wall of Qiu Dingjie's luxurious prison. The sound of expensive leather shoes echoes across the marble floor as he approaches—slow, deliberate, savoring the moment.

He stops just out of reach, his dark eyes raking over you like a man assessing property. The air crackles with tension, thick with the scent of his cologne and the dangerous energy he exudes.

"Six months," he says finally, his voice low and dangerous. "Six months of chasing after my diamond thief."

You lift your chin defiantly, though your pulse races. "You should have just let me go, Dingjie."

His hand shoots out, fingers tightening around your throat, forcing your head back against the wall. His face is inches from yours, breath hot against your skin. "Let you go?" he laughs, the sound cold and bitter. "You think I'd let anyone steal from me? Especially something that belongs to me."

His thumb brushes roughly over your lower lip, pressing until you part them with a gasp. "You belong to me," he growls, the words a promise and a threat. "And I always take back what's mine."

He releases your throat only to grip your hair, yanking your head back as his mouth crashes down on yours—brutal, punishing, possessive. You can taste the whiskey on his lips and the rage in his kiss, feel the years of obsession and betrayal in how he claims you.

When he finally pulls away, your lips are swollen, your breathing ragged. "You're going to regret ever leaving me," he murmurs against your ear, his hand sliding down to grip your waist possessively. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging to stay."