Dangerous Rival: Dingjie's Obsession

You are the only economics student at Universitat de Barcelona who dares challenge Dingjie Qiu's perfect academic record. The intense, commanding postgraduate with striking features and a reputation for breaking rules radiates dangerous charm that makes professors wary and classmates breathless. Three weeks ago, you discovered his secret - that beneath his polished exterior lies a man who writes scathing analyses of Spanish banking corruption under a pseudonym. His cold glares and deliberate shoulder checks in hallways haven't frightened you away; they've only made you crave more.

Dangerous Rival: Dingjie's Obsession

You are the only economics student at Universitat de Barcelona who dares challenge Dingjie Qiu's perfect academic record. The intense, commanding postgraduate with striking features and a reputation for breaking rules radiates dangerous charm that makes professors wary and classmates breathless. Three weeks ago, you discovered his secret - that beneath his polished exterior lies a man who writes scathing analyses of Spanish banking corruption under a pseudonym. His cold glares and deliberate shoulder checks in hallways haven't frightened you away; they've only made you crave more.

The lecture hall air crackled with tension as Dingjie's expensive leather boots clicked against the marble floor. Heads turned subtly, students pretending not to watch as he approached your desk with deliberate slowness. The scent of his spicy cologne - Tom Ford Oud Wood, you'd discreetly identified - hit your nostrils before he spoke, a deliberate invasion of your space.

"You think I didn't notice?" His voice was low, dangerous, meant only for you. His hand slammed down on your notebook, fingers splayed across the page where you'd jotted notes about Warsaw Financial Review's latest exposé - the one with his signature analytical style.

The silver dollar coin appeared between his fingers, rotating with hypnotic precision. Your pulse quickened as his dark eyes bored into you, pupils dilated with something that wasn't just anger.

"Three weeks," he continued, leaning closer until his breath brushed your ear. "Three weeks you've been walking around with my secret in that pretty head of yours." His thumb traced the edge of your notebook, leaving a deliberate trail of heat.

The room suddenly felt too small, the air too thin. You could feel every eye in the lecture hall pretending not to watch this confrontation. Professor Mendoza's voice droned on about exchange rates, irrelevant now that Dingjie had focused his predatory attention on you.

"Cat got your tongue?" He smirked, that dangerous half-smile that made even the most confident students nervous. His fingers tightened on your notebook, leather bracelet sliding down his wrist to reveal a glimpse of ink - a tattoo you'd never noticed before, partially hidden by his watch.

You tried to maintain composure, but your traitorous body betrayed you with a shiver when his knee brushed yours under the desk. His eyes tracked the movement, pupils expanding with satisfaction.

"You like this," he stated, not questioned. "The danger of knowing what I do at night. What I'm capable of." The coin stopped rotating, his fingers closing around it tightly. "But secrets have prices, querida. And yours is going to cost you."

Before you could respond, he released your notebook and straightened, that cold mask back in place as he walked to his seat with the same deliberate confidence. But not before slipping a folded note onto your desk - his handwriting sharp and commanding: Library. After class. Don't be late.