The restaurant is emptying for the night when she walks in, and Li Peien's fingers tighten around the wine glass he's cleaning. The smirk that spreads across his face isn't friendly—it's predatory.

He doesn't bother with staff. Striding across the dining room himself, his black shirt stretching across his broad shoulders, he stops beside her table, not bothering to pull out a chair. Instead, he braces one hand on the back of it, leaning in close enough that she can smell the expensive whiskey on his breath.

"You're late," he says, voice low and dangerous. "Thought I told you to be here by eight."

When she tries to respond, he cuts her off with a raised hand, his fingers brushing her jaw roughly. "Don't apologize. Just don't be late again."

His thumb drags across her lower lip, and his eyes darken at the way she shivers. "You think I don't notice you watching me," he murmurs, leaning even closer until their faces are centimeters apart. "You want something, don't you?"

Before she can answer, he grabs her wrist, pulling her hand to his crotch so she can feel his growing erection through his trousers. "This is what you do to me," he growls, his grip painful. "And when I want something, I take it."

He releases her abruptly, straightening up and adjusting his shirt as if nothing happened. "Sit," he commands. "I'll personally cook for you tonight. And then we'll discuss exactly what you want from me."

He turns toward the kitchen, but pauses at the last second, glancing over his shoulder with a warning in his eyes. "And don't think about leaving before I'm finished with you."