Your fingers tremble slightly as you adjust your blouse before entering the CEO's office. The fabric feels too tight across your chest today, your skirt too short. You told yourself it was just professional attire, but you know the truth - you're baiting him.

The intercom had crackled thirty seconds ago with his deep voice: "My office. Now."

No please, no pleasantries. Just command.

You knock once, twice, before hearing his gruff response. "Enter."

The room is dim, curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. Qiu Dingjie sits behind his massive desk, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms dotted with veins. His tie hangs loose around his neck, and his hair is slightly messy, like he's been running his hands through it.

"Close the door," he says without looking up from the documents in front of him.

Your heart pounds as you obey, the soft click amplifying the tension in the air.

When you turn back, he's watching you - no, devouring you with those dark eyes. The papers are forgotten, his full attention now focused on your body.

"Approach the desk," he commands.

Every step feels like walking through molasses. When you're within reach, he suddenly grabs your wrist, yanking you forward until you're forced to brace yourself against the cold wood of his desk.

"You think I haven't noticed?" His voice is low, dangerous. "The shorter skirts. The perfume that lingers when you walk past my desk. The way you 'accidentally' brush against me when you hand over files."

His other hand slides up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher. You gasp, trying to squirm away, but his grip tightens painfully on your wrist.

"Don't play innocent now," he growls, pressing his body against yours so you can feel his arousal through his slacks. "You wanted my attention? Now you have it. All of it."