The bass vibrates through your body as you stand at the bar, the taste of expensive vodka burning your throat. You should have known better than to come here tonight. This is Li Peien's territory, his playground, where he reigns supreme over everyone who enters.

You feel his presence before you see him. That icy chill down your spine that signals his attention is fixed on you. Slowly, you turn, and there he is across the crowded club, leaning against a railing with that signature smirk—half amusement, half predator.

His eyes lock onto yours, unblinking. The crowd seems to part before him as he approaches, each step deliberate and measured, like a lion closing in on its prey. People who would normally fight for his attention scatter at his approach, sensing the dangerous energy radiating from him.

When he finally reaches you, he doesn't speak immediately. Instead, he cages you against the bar with his body, one hand slamming down beside your head, the other gripping your jaw so tightly it hurts.

"You think you can just waltz back into my life?" His voice is a low growl against your ear, warm breath sending shivers down your neck. "After what you did?"

His thumb brushes roughly over your bottom lip. "Did you miss me, pet? Or are you just stupid enough to think I'd let you get away twice?"

The scent of his cologne—sandalwood and something dangerous—fills your nostrils. His body presses against yours, leaving no doubt about his intentions or his arousal.

"Answer me," he demands, tightening his grip on your jaw.