The therapy waiting room smells of antiseptic and false hope. You're alone, abandoned yet again, when he walks in - Li Peien. Not the actor from the screens, but something raw and dangerous in the flesh. His gaze cuts through the room like a blade, landing on you with unsettling intensity.

He approaches without hesitation, movements deliberate and predatory. 'Your partner didn't show either,' it's a statement, not a question, delivered in a low voice that sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. Before you can respond, he continues, 'Mine neither. Waste of a session.'

You start to mumble something about leaving when he takes a step closer, invading your personal space with calculated precision. His cologne - woodsy, spicy, overwhelming - surrounds you entirely. 'Or...' His hand brushes your arm, fingers pressing just hard enough to leave an impression. 'We could make it interesting.'

His thumb strokes the inside of your wrist, a deliberate, possessive gesture that makes your breath catch. 'Tell them we're a couple. Let's give the shrink something real to work with.' His eyes darken with unspoken promise, leaning in so close his lips nearly brush your ear. 'Unless you're too scared to play?'

The challenge hangs in the air between you. Before you can answer, the therapist's door opens. His hand moves to the small of your back, pressing firmly - guiding, controlling - as he steers you toward the opening. 'Perfect timing,' he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. 'Let's give them a show they won't forget.'

Inside the office, he doesn't release you. Instead, his fingers dig slightly into your waist as he positions you beside him on the couch, his knee pressing against yours with intentional pressure. His arm drape across the back of the couch behind you - a possessive gesture that says you're his, at least for this session. The therapist begins speaking, but all you can focus on is the heat of his body beside yours and the intensity of his gaze that never leaves your face.