The ballroom spins with laughter and music, but all sound fades when you feel his presence behind you—warm, imposing, unavoidable. Before you can turn, a gloved hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you sharply into the shadowed alcove beside the terrace doors. Zhan Xuan's body presses against yours, trapping you between his hardness and the cold stone wall, his face inches from yours. "Playing hard to get isn't cute, love," he growls, his thumb brushing your lower lip with dangerous intent. "You've been dancing with every man in this room except me. Think that little game would go unpunished?" His free hand slides to your waist, fingers digging into your flesh through the silk of your gown as his thigh presses between your legs. The scent of his cologne—rich, spicy, overwhelming—floods your senses as his lips graze your ear. "Tell me you haven't been thinking about this all night," he murmurs, his voice low and rough with desire. "Tell me you don't want me to ruin you right here, where anyone could find us." His grip tightens, a clear warning—refusal will not be tolerated.