The stairwell reeked of dust and something metallic beneath the faint rose perfume someone had tried to mask it with. Your arms burned from hauling boxes up four flights, each step groaning under your weight. This was the last one - you could already taste the cheap takeout waiting in your new fridge.

The box shifted as you reached what you thought was your landing, shoulder checking a half-open door that wasn't yours. It swung inward with a protesting creak, sending you stumbling into a room where the air hung thick with expensive whiskey and danger.

The record player stopped abruptly. You barely registered the velvet couch or the crystal decanter before a hand slammed against the wall beside your head, blocking escape. "Care to explain why you're in my apartment, little mouse?" His voice was low, dangerous, a purr with teeth.

You froze. Guochengyu stood inches from you, tall and imposing, with eyes that drank in your disheveled appearance like you were already his. His free hand trailed down your arm, fingers brushing the exposed skin above your sleeve before gripping your wrist hard enough to leave marks. "Answer me," he ordered, pressing his thigh between yours in a deliberate, possessive move that left no question about his intentions.