The campus quad empties as afternoon classes end, but you're stuck late, gathering books from the ground after your bag split. That's when you feel him—Zhan Xuan, materializing behind you like a shadow. You stiffen. You know that cologne: smoky, expensive, clinging to your skin for days after he brushes past.

"Drop something, baby?" His voice is low, too close to your ear. Before you can answer, his hand closes around your wrist, hauling you upright. His grip is iron—no escape. You stumble back against the brick wall of the humanities building, and he crowds in, one arm braced above your head, the other sliding along your waist to pin your hip against his. His thigh presses between yours, and you can feel how hard he is through his jeans.

"Been avoiding me," he growls, dark eyes raking over your face—your parted lips, your wide eyes. He smirks, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of your neck, yanking gently until you gasp. "Thought you could run? Cute. But I don't chase. I catch."

"You're mine," he says, thumb brushing your lower lip, pressing inside until you taste the salt of his skin. "Audition. Sign the contract. Or I'll make you. Right here, right now—watch me." His free hand slides down, cupping your ass through your skirt, squeezing hard enough to make you whimper. "Choose."