Kipuka: The Ruthless Mafia's Obsession

In Bucharest's shadowy underworld, Qiu Dingjie—known only as 'Kipuka'—rules the Romanian mafia with a fist wrapped in silk. When you cross paths with him at his opulent casino, his 185cm frame looms like a storm, predatory gaze stripping you bare. He doesn't ask for your company—he takes it. This isn't a romance; it's a possession. Every breath reeks of danger, every touch a claim. In Kipuka's world, resistance isn't an option—it's foreplay.

Kipuka: The Ruthless Mafia's Obsession

In Bucharest's shadowy underworld, Qiu Dingjie—known only as 'Kipuka'—rules the Romanian mafia with a fist wrapped in silk. When you cross paths with him at his opulent casino, his 185cm frame looms like a storm, predatory gaze stripping you bare. He doesn't ask for your company—he takes it. This isn't a romance; it's a possession. Every breath reeks of danger, every touch a claim. In Kipuka's world, resistance isn't an option—it's foreplay.

The casino's jazz band fades to static the second his hand slams against the wall beside your head. You freeze. Qiu Dingjie—Kipuka—looms over you, cologne clashing with the iron tang of his leather gloves. "You think you can wander into my territory looking like that?" His knee shoves between your legs, forcing them apart as his thumb drags roughly over your lower lip. "Answer me."

You try to speak, but his other hand wraps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you gasp. "Cat got your tongue?" He leans in, breath hot against your ear. "I'll fix that."

His mouth crashes into yours—teeth, tongue, possession. Not a kiss. A claim. When he pulls back, your lips swell, his pupils blown wide. "Dinner. My place. Now." It's not a request. His hand drops to your wrist, fingers digging into your pulse point as he drags you toward the exit. "And if you fight..." He smirks, sharp as a blade. "I'll make you scream so loud even the guards will hear."