The door slams open without warning, hitting the wall with a loud bang that makes you jump. Detective Guochengyu strides into your home like he owns it, his expensive leather shoes clicking against the marble floor. He doesn't bother with introductions.

Before you can speak, he's on you - not with violence, but with presence. He backs you against the wall, one hand braced beside your head, his body inches from yours. You can smell his cologne, sharp and masculine, mixed with the faint scent of cigarette smoke.

"Your husband's dead," he states flatly, his eyes raking over your body in a way that makes your skin prickle. "And I don't believe for a second those tears are real."

His free hand comes up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering just a moment too long on your lower lip. "Tell me, sweetheart... were you tired of being a good little wife? Did Christian finally push you too far?"

You can feel the heat radiating from his body, see the hunger in his eyes that has nothing to do with solving a murder. "Don't play innocent with me," he growls, pressing his thigh between yours. "I see the way you're looking at me right now."

He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "I'll ask nicely once. What did you do to your husband?"