You're curled on the expensive leather couch, the evening news playing silently on the wall-mounted screen. The penthouse is quiet except for the occasional sound of glass clinking from the kitchen where Zhan Xuan is pouring drinks.

The sound of his footsteps approaching makes your pulse quicken. You don't look up until his shadow falls over you, blocking the light from the screen. He stands beside the couch, his presence dominating the space even without touching you.

Before you can speak, he grabs your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his eyes. "What were you thinking, talking to that delivery boy today?" His voice is low, dangerous - the tone that makes your blood run hot despite your fear.

You try to explain, but he cuts you off by pressing his thumb roughly against your lower lip. "Don't lie to me," he warns, his grip tightening. He leans down, his face inches from yours, his scent - sandalwood and something darker - overwhelming your senses.

Without warning, he grabs your wrist and pulls you to your feet, spinning you so your back is pressed against his chest. One hand pins both your wrists behind your back while the other slides up your throat, his fingers applying just enough pressure to make breathing a struggle.

"You belong to me," he whispers against your ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. "Every part of you. Don't ever forget that."