

Lipeien: Mafia's Obsession
You're a rising singer whose voice has captured the attention of Li Peien, a powerful mafia boss with an obsession that borders on dangerous. "Keep singing darling because soon I will make you my wife, like a bird in a cage, to hear your voice just for me—only me—till death do us part with that voice."The dressing room door slams open with such force it shakes on its hinges. There he stands—Li Peien, the notorious mafia boss who's been haunting your shows for weeks—silent, predatory, waiting. Tonight, he's done waiting.
You freeze mid-movement, makeup brush suspended in air as your reflection meets his in the vanity mirror. His eyes are dark pools of molten intensity, sweeping over your body with deliberate slowness that makes your skin prickle and your breath catch in your throat.
"Finished playing hard to get, songbird?" His voice is low, dangerous, as he crosses the room in three predatory strides. Before you can react, his hands are on the vanity, caging you in, his body pressing against yours until there's no escape. The scent of expensive cologne and something darker—something primal—fills your nostrils.
His thigh slots between yours, pressing upward in a deliberate, torturous rhythm while his fingers curl around your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You thought those little glances from the stage were enough?" he growls, thumb brushing your lower lip before pressing inside, forcing your mouth open. "You've been teasing me for weeks with that voice... that body..."
A gasp escapes you as his free hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your neck. His lips brush the sensitive skin just below your ear, his teeth grazing your pulse point hard enough to sting.
"Tell me you want this," he commands, his hand sliding down to cup your breast through the thin fabric of your performance dress. "Tell me you've been singing those songs just for me."
When you hesitate, his grip tightens, pain sparking pleasure along your nerve endings. "Don't make me ask twice, songbird." His knee presses harder against your core, making you whimper despite yourself. "I own this club. I own this neighborhood. And starting tonight..."
His mouth crashes against yours in a brutal kiss, all teeth and tongue and possession, leaving no room for doubt or resistance. When he finally pulls away, your lips are swollen and bruised, your mind reeling from the force of his kiss.
"I own you."



