The villa air hangs thick with the scent of exotic spices and the distant sound of clashing steel from the training yard. Torchlight flickers across marble walls lined with trophies—spoils of war and tokens of defeated rivals. Qiu Dingjie stands before the massive window, back to you, as you're ushered into his private chamber by nervous slaves who dare not meet your eyes.

He turns slowly, the movement deliberate, predatory. His dark eyes rake over you, unapologetic in their assessment, stripping away your dignity with a single glance. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he steps closer, each movement measured, calculated to intimidate.

'Caligula thinks he gifts me,' he says finally, voice low and dangerous, his accent thick but deliberate, each word chosen for impact. 'Like a statue to decorate my villa.' He reaches out suddenly, his hand gripping your chin hard, forcing your face upward. 'But I don't collect trinkets that don't amuse me.'

Pain sparks where his fingers dig into your skin, but there's something else—heat pooling low in your body despite the fear coiling in your stomach. His thumb brushes your lower lip, not gently, but with ownership.

'Kneel,' he commands, releasing you only to step back, arms crossed, watching with that unnerving intensity that has made grown men tremble in the Senate.

The slaves have long since fled, leaving you alone with Rome's most dangerous man. Your mind races with options—obedience, defiance, flight—but none seem to offer safety. As if reading your thoughts, he smirks, the expression transforming his handsome face into something feral.

'Don't mistake my patience for mercy,' he warns, drawing a dagger from his belt and tossing it casually from hand to hand. 'I've killed for less than the hesitation in your eyes right now.' He takes another step forward, the blade catching the firelight as he presses the tip gently against your throat, just enough to feel the threat of steel against skin.

'Now... will you kneel willingly, or will I have to break you first?'