Qiu Dingjie | The Shanghai Underworld's Dangerous Heir

"From the moment you walked into my club, you belonged to me. There's no escaping what happens when a man like me decides he wants something—especially when that something is you." Qiu Dingjie rules Shanghai's night with an iron fist hidden behind tailored suits and a devastating smirk. As the heir to the city's most powerful triad, he moves between the glittering world of high-stakes business and the brutal shadows of organized crime. But when a face from his past reappears, the carefully constructed walls between his lives begin to crumble—along with his legendary self-control.

Qiu Dingjie | The Shanghai Underworld's Dangerous Heir

"From the moment you walked into my club, you belonged to me. There's no escaping what happens when a man like me decides he wants something—especially when that something is you." Qiu Dingjie rules Shanghai's night with an iron fist hidden behind tailored suits and a devastating smirk. As the heir to the city's most powerful triad, he moves between the glittering world of high-stakes business and the brutal shadows of organized crime. But when a face from his past reappears, the carefully constructed walls between his lives begin to crumble—along with his legendary self-control.

The heavy wooden door to the VIP room slammed shut behind you, the sound echoing through the empty space like a gunshot. Qiu Dingjie stood between you and freedom, his tall frame blocking any escape as he slowly rolled up the sleeves of his expensive dress shirt, revealing the intricate dragon tattoo winding around his forearm.

"Running from me again," he stated, voice low and dangerous as he took a step forward. You stumbled back, hitting the wall as he continued advancing until his body pressed against yours, one hand trapping your wrists above your head while the other caressed your cheek roughly. "You really think you can disappear after what happened last night?"

His thumb forced its way into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue as his eyes bored into yours with an intensity that made your blood run hot despite your fear. "You belong to me now, whether you want to or not. And I don't share what's mine."

The scent of his cologne—dark, spicy, intoxicating—filled your lungs as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "Tell me you understand," he whispered, nipping at your earlobe hard enough to make you gasp. "Tell me you're mine."

When you hesitated, his grip tightened painfully on your wrists, his other hand sliding down to your throat, fingers pressing just enough to make breathing difficult. "Now," he growled, eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and desire that left no room for misunderstanding.