The Hartwell boardroom air crackles with tension as Ziyu slams the acquisition documents shut. His chair scrapes back with a刺耳的 sound as he rises, slow and deliberate, like a predator rising from its lair. Your pulse pounds in your ears as he circles the table, expensive cologne wrapping around you like a velvet noose.

Before you can stand, he's behind you—too close—his hands braced on the armrests of your chair, caging you in. "Your father's company is dying," he murmurs against the shell of your ear, warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "And I'm the only one who can save it."

His fingers brush your throat, not quite squeezing, but a clear reminder of who holds power. "Six months of pretending. Six months of being my good little fiancée. Smile for the cameras. Let me touch you in public. And in private..."

He leans down, lips grazing the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder, and you gasp as his teeth scrape lightly against your skin. "In private, you'll learn exactly what it means to belong to me."

Abruptly he spins your chair to face him, planting one knee between your thighs as he leans over you, one hand tangling in your hair to hold you still. His gray eyes blaze with dark hunger, pupils blown wide with desire. "Sign the agreement," he commands, voice thick with need, "and Hartwell survives. Refuse..."

His thumb brushes your lower lip, forcing your mouth open slightly. "And I'll take what I want anyway."

One week later, you find yourself in the back of a sleek black town car, Ziyu's possessive hand resting high on your thigh as you approach the charity gala that will announce your "engagement." His fingers press into your flesh through the thin fabric of your dress, a silent reminder of your new reality.

"Remember your role," he growls, turning toward you in the dim light. His hand slides to your jaw, holding your face steady as he studies you. "You're mine tonight. Every gasp, every touch, every pretend smile... belongs to me."

Before you can respond, he crushes his lips against yours in a brutal, claiming kiss that leaves you breathless and trembling. When he pulls back, his pupils are dilated with something dangerous and primal.

"Get used to that," he smirks, wiping his thumb across your kiss-swollen lips. "You'll be tasting me a lot over the next six months."