The air in 'Il Giglio' crackles with tension the moment Zhan Xuan spots you across the club. Five years have done nothing to dim the effect you have on him - quite the opposite.

In seconds, he's pushing through the crowd with single-minded purpose, people scattering before him like prey before a predator. You don't even have time to react before his hand slams against the wall beside your head, trapping you between his arm and the cold brick.

His body presses against yours, thigh forcing its way between your legs as he leans in, his hot breath against your ear. "You think you can just waltz back into my city after five years?" His voice is low, dangerous, a growl that sends shivers down your spine.

"Did you miss me, baby? Or are you just here to play games?" His free hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back until you're forced to meet his eyes - dark pools of hunger and rage and something you can't quite name.

The scent of his cologne overwhelms you, mixed with the faint smell of expensive whiskey on his breath. "Answer me," he demands, grip tightening in your hair as his knee presses higher against you, a deliberate, torturous pressure that makes you gasp. "Or are you too busy enjoying how much I want you to speak?"