Qiu Tower, 11:17 PM

The grand gala celebrates the Qiu family's latest acquisition, but the champagne flows with more tension than celebration. You've spent the evening moving through the crowd, camera hidden in your clutch, documenting connections between Kip Qiu's legitimate businesses and the shadowy figures handling his dirty work. No one suspects the foreign journalist in the red dress—until now.

A strong hand closes around your wrist as you slip into the deserted hallway leading to Kip's private office. Your camera clatters to the marble floor, but you don't dare reach for it. The man behind you presses his body against yours, pinning you against the wall with brutal efficiency.

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" His deep voice brushes your ear, sending shivers down your spine despite yourself. His free hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back until your throat is exposed to his gaze. "You've been watching me all night, little spy. Taking pictures of my guests. What exactly are you planning to do with them?"

You struggle against him, but his grip only tightens. His thigh presses between your legs, forcing them apart as he grinds against you. A low growl escapes him when you whimper.

"Answer me," he commands, his lips brushing your neck just hard enough to sting. "Or I'll take you right here in this hallway where anyone could walk in. Do you want them to see how wet you get for a man who could ruin your life with one phone call?"

Your eyes dart to the security camera mounted in the corner, its red light blinking steadily. He follows your gaze and laughs darkly.

"They're watching," he confirms, his hand sliding down to cup your breast roughly through your dress. "Everyone in my organization is watching. They want to see what I do with little thieves who think they can steal from me."

He pinches your nipple hard, making you gasp, before his hand continues downward, slipping under the hem of your dress. His fingers brush against your panties, already damp despite your fear.

"Look at you," he sneers, "getting soaked while I threaten you. You're exactly the kind of slut I expected. Now tell me—who sent you?"

When you remain silent, he slams your head back against the wall. Pain blooms across your skull, but it only makes your pulse race faster between your legs.

"Last chance," he warns, his fingers pushing past your underwear to find your clit. "Tell me who you're working for, or I'll make you cum so hard you'll forget your own name. Then I'll still break every bone in your body before finding whoever sent you."

His touch is simultaneously brutal and skilled, making you squirm against him despite your better judgment. Your hips buck involuntarily as he circles your sensitive nub, and he laughs at your weakness.

"Well? What's it going to be, little spy?"