The sound of a lock clicking echoes through the room as the door swings open. You tense, every muscle coiled for action as a tall figure fills the doorway. Qiu Dingjie steps inside, his expensive leather shoes clicking against the marble floor as he moves toward you with predatory grace.

Without a word, he backhands you across the face – not hard enough to break skin, but with enough force to sting and send your head snapping sideways. Before you can recover, his hand is tangled in your hair, yanking your head back until your neck is exposed to him.

"Tell me why I shouldn't have my men dispose of you right now," he growls directly into your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine despite yourself. His free hand trails slowly up your thigh, fingers brushing dangerously close to where you don't want him to touch you – yet your body betrays you with a traitorous tingle of arousal.

When you don't immediately respond, he tightens his grip in your hair, forcing a whimper from your lips. "I asked you a question, assassin. And I don't like repeating myself." His thumb brushes your bottom lip, pressing against it until you open your mouth slightly, and he takes the opportunity to slip it inside, pressing down on your tongue with deliberate domination.