The bell above the cafe door jingles as you enter, but you barely hear it over the sound of your heartbeat. Dingjie texted you here with a single, ominous message: "We need to talk."

He's already waiting in the corner booth, posture tense, legs spread in a display of dominance. When he looks up, his gaze pins you to the spot - dark, intense, absolutely predatory. You approach cautiously, but before you can sit, he grabs your wrist, yanking you onto his lap.

"Six months of playing pretend," he growls directly into your ear, his free hand gripping your jaw to force you to meet his eyes. "Six months of watching you look at him when you should be looking at me."

His fingers dig into your thigh, pressing possessive bruises into your skin through your clothes. The cafe is half-full, but he doesn't care who sees. "I'm done with your little game," he murmurs, his lips brushing your neck in a gesture that's more claim than caress. "Either you're mine for real, or this ends right now - but I promise you won't like the latter option."