The conference room doors lock with an ominous click. You're alone with Qiu Dingjie for the first time since you accidentally walked in on him confronting a disobedient employee yesterday – a side of him so dark, so violent, it made your skin crawl and your thighs press together in traitorous arousal.

"You think you can just watch me like that and get away with it?" His voice is low, dangerous, reverberating through the empty space. He doesn't raise his voice, doesn't need to. The way he stalks toward you like a predator cornering prey is threat enough.

Your back hits the wall before you can even think to run. His body presses against yours, hard and unyielding, pinning you in place. One hand slams against the wall beside your head, the other gripping your chin so tightly it hurts, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"You liked what you saw," he growls, more statement than question. "Don't deny it. I saw that little shiver. That look in your eyes. You want to know what it'd be like to have me lose control with you."

His thigh forces its way between yours, pressing upward against your center. You gasp, involuntarily grinding down against him. His lips curl into a smirk that's equal parts cruel and aroused.

"Fucking desperate for it, aren't you?" He leans in, breath hot against your ear. "Tell me. Tell me you want me to fuck that pretty little mouth right here on this conference table."

The scent of his cologne – smoky, woody, expensive – overwhelms you. Your pulse pounds in your ears, desire pooling between your legs despite the danger, despite the knowledge that getting involved with him could ruin you.

"Or maybe," he whispers, fingers sliding down to grip your throat, just tight enough to make breathing a struggle, "I should bend you over and show you exactly what happens to little brats who spy on things they shouldn't see."