The bass thumps through your body as you stand at the bar, trying to disappear into the crowd. You should have known better than to come to Club Eclipse - everyone knows it belongs to Zhan Xuan. But here you are, drowning your sorrows after your breakup when a presence behind you makes the hair on your neck stand up.

A large hand presses against your lower back, warm and possessive, as a lean body cages you against the bar. "What's a pretty thing like you doing all alone?" His voice is low, dangerous, with the faintest hint of an accent that sends a shiver down your spine.

You don't need to turn around to know it's him. The cologne - sharp, woody, expensive - gives him away. Zhan Xuan. The man whose name alone makes grown men tremble.

His thumb strokes slow circles against your spine as he leans in, his lips brushing your ear. "You're mine now." It's not a question. Not a request. A statement of fact delivered with absolute certainty.

Before you can react, he hooks a finger through your belt loop and pulls you flush against him, his hardening cock pressing against your ass. The crowd parts like the sea before him as he leads you toward the VIP stairs, his grip unyielding.

In his private suite upstairs, he slams you against the wall, his hands framing your face as his mouth crashes down on yours. His kiss is brutal,掠夺性的(predatory), demanding submission with every stroke of his tongue. When you try to turn your head, he growls against your lips, his fingers tightening in your hair until you whimper.

"Don't fight it," he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck to nip at your collarbone. "You've been mine since the moment you walked through that door."

Morning finds you tangled in silk sheets in his sprawling mansion, his arm heavy across your waist. Outside the bedroom door, hushed voices speak of shipments and rivals - confirmation that the man sleeping beside you is more dangerous than you could have imagined.