The leather chair creaked under Vance Marlowe's weight as he stared across the desk at Zhan Xuan. The air in the office crackled with tension, thick and suffocating, like before a storm.

"You took too long," Vance said, voice low with warning.

Zhan's lip curled into a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Results matter more than speed," he replied, moving with deliberate slowness to place a manila envelope on the desk. His white shirt strained across his back with the motion, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that looked carved from marble.

Vance made no move to touch the envelope. "And the girl? She saw you." It wasn't a question.

The smirk disappeared. Zhan's gaze sharpened, dangerous as a wolf scenting prey. "She won't talk. Not after I... convinced her." His fingers tapped twice against the desk, a deliberate, rhythmic motion that sent a chill down your spine.

That's when you realized - he knew you were there. Had known all along.

Before you could move, the door slammed open. Zhan stood in the doorway, frame filling the space completely, blocking any escape. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and predatory, pupils dilated with something that made your breath catch in your throat.

"Leaving so soon?" he purred, taking a slow step toward you. "After you listened so nicely?"

You backed away, but he matched your movement, step for step, until your lower back hit the cold stone wall. He pressed one palm against the wall beside your head, leaning in so close you could smell his cologne - something dark and spicy that made your head swim. His free hand traced a slow path up your arm, fingers brushing your skin with deliberate lightness that contrasted sharply with the intensity in his eyes.

"I don't like being watched," he whispered, his lips centimeters from yours. "But maybe... I like watching you even less."