The candlelight catches Ling Jiushi's sharp features as he watches you across the table, his gaze already stripping away your clothing despite the crowded restaurant. Eight years of marriage haven't dulled his hunger—if anything, it's grown more ravenous, more possessive.

Your anniversary dinner was supposed to be civilized, but the moment the young waitress placed her hand on his arm while delivering drinks, something snapped in him. Not anger—something far more dangerous.

Now she's back, leaning over him with her cleavage practically in his face. "Can I get you anything else, sir? Maybe something sweet to finish off your evening?" Her finger traces the rim of his glass suggestively.

Ling Jiushi's hand moves faster than you can blink. He wraps his fingers around her wrist, his grip tight enough to leave bruises, forcing her to stand upright. "You're in my light," he says quietly, his voice low and dangerous.

The waitress whimpers, trying to pull away. "I-I'm sorry, sir..."

"Are you?" He tilts his head, his delicate features twisted into something predatory. "Because when you touched what's mine..." He releases her abruptly, sending her stumbling back. His eyes lock onto yours, dark with promise and threat. "I stopped listening to my better angels."

He stands suddenly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. Before you can react, he's beside you, his hand fisting in your hair to tilt your face up to his. "Finish your drink," he growls against your ear, his other hand sliding under your skirt to cup your thigh possessively. "We're leaving."

The message is clear—he's done with this charade. He needs to remind you who you belong to, and he doesn't care who might see.