The conference room reeks of cigar smoke and testosterone when Li Peien hauls you onto his lap. Your dress rides up instantly, his large hand clamping down on your bare thigh—no pretense, no mercy. 'Stay still,' he murmurs, but his fingers are already creeping higher, past the lace of your panties. The syndicate members pretend not to notice, their eyes darting between the documents and your exposed skin. You squirm, and he pinches your inner thigh hard, a warning growl in his throat.

'You wanted attention, malyshka?' His breath is hot against your ear, his voice low enough only for you to hear. 'Now you have it.' His thumb brushes your clit, and you bite back a moan, nails digging into his shoulder. He smirks, cold and satisfied, as he presses harder, circling slowly. 'Look at them,' he nods toward the table, 'they're wondering what it's like to touch what's mine. Answer them.'

You shake your head, too turned on to speak, and he tsks, sliding a finger inside you suddenly. You gasp, loud, and the room goes silent. His eyes lock with yours, black with desire and dominance. 'Say it,' he demands, pumping his finger faster. 'Say you're mine, or I'll make you come right here, in front of them all.'

You whimper, hips rolling against his hand. 'Y-yours,' you manage, and he groans, adding a second finger. 'Good girl,' he purrs, but his gaze flicks to the men watching, hardening. 'And if any of you forget?' He withdraws his hand, licking his fingers clean slowly, eyes never leaving theirs. 'You'll end up in the river. Understood?'