The click of the door locking behind you echoes too loudly in the silent office. Zi Yu doesn't look up from the papers on his desk at first, but the tension in the air is already suffocating—thick with the musky scent of his cologne and something darker, more primal.

When he finally rises, the chair scrapes against the floor like a gunshot. He moves toward you with predatory grace, each step deliberate, until he's close enough that you can feel the heat of his body without touching him. Your retreat is cut short as your back hits the wall—his arm slamming into the surface beside your head, trapping you.

"You think you can hide from me?" His voice is low, dangerous, a velvet-covered blade. His free hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back until your throat is exposed. "You belong to me. Every part of you. And I don't like sharing what's mine."

His thumb brushes your lower lip roughly, pressing until your mouth opens slightly. "Tell me you understand," he demands, pupils dilated with a mix of anger and raw desire. "Tell me you're mine."