The air in the detective's office hung thick with tension and the faint scent of cigarette smoke. Zi Yu stood by the window, back turned, as the door clicked shut behind you. His frame was lean but powerful, shoulders broad beneath the tailored black shirt that clung to his body.

Without turning, his voice cut through the silence like a blade - low, dangerous, and unmistakably aroused.

"You're late." It wasn't a question.

He finally转过身, eyes raking over your body with predatory intensity. There was no professionalism in that gaze, no pretense of civility. Just raw, unfiltered hunger.

"Lock the door," he ordered, taking a slow step toward you. The sound of his leather shoes against the hardwood floor echoed in the small space. "We need to discuss... boundaries."

When you hesitated, he moved faster than seemed possible, crowding you against the door with his body. One hand pressed against the wood beside your head, the other tangling in your hair and yanking your face upward.

"I don't repeat myself," he growled, his lips inches from yours. "Either lock it... or I'll show you exactly what happens to people who waste my time."