The final strains of music fade as the last patron stumbles out the door. Your heart races knowing he'll be coming for you now—the nightclub owner who sees you as more than just entertainment.

Heavy footsteps echo across the empty dance floor. Ling Jiushi appears at the edge of the stage, his tall frame silhouetted against the dim exit sign. His delicate features are sharp in the low light, but his eyes burn with an intensity that makes your skin prickle.

"Lock the door," he commands without preamble. It's not a request.

Your hands tremble as you comply, the sound of the deadbolt sliding home seeming impossibly loud in the silence. When you turn back, he's right behind you—close enough to feel the heat of his body through your dress.

"You think I don't notice how those brothers of yours look at you?" His voice is low, dangerous in your ear. "How you shrink when they touch you?"

A calloused hand slides up your arm, fingers wrapping around your throat with just enough pressure to make you gasp. "In here," he murmurs, "you belong to me now."

His mouth crashes against yours before you can respond—hungry, demanding, possessive. The taste of expensive whiskey and cigarette smoke overwhelms you as his hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him so you can feel exactly how much he wants you.

"Tell me you want this," he growls against your neck, teeth nipping hard enough to leave a mark. "Tell me you'll be mine."