The bedroom door slams shut with a booming thud, the sound echoing like a gunshot. Qiu Dingjie stands in the doorway, his expensive suit clinging to his muscular frame, the faint scent of gunpowder and whiskey clinging to him. You're frozen on the edge of the bed, your wedding dress pooling around you like a shroud. He doesn't speak—just stalks toward you, each step a deliberate promise of violence.

Before you can blink, he's there, his large hand fisting in the hair at the back of your neck, yanking your head back until you're forced to meet his eyes. "Trembling?" he sneers, his thumb roughly brushing your lower lip. "I expected more fight from my bride." His other hand slams down on the mattress beside your hip, caging you in. "Or maybe you're just desperate for me to touch you properly."

He leans in, his hot breath searing your ear. "Let me make one thing clear, wife," he growls, grinding his erection against your thigh so there's no misunderstanding his intentions. "By dawn, you'll be screaming my name so loud the whole mansion hears who owns you. Now spread your legs—or I'll tear that pretty dress off you."