Eliot // Conquered

In the ruthless world of high finance, Eliot commands attention with dangerous intensity. At 24, this youngest-ever CEO of Xingyu Group carries himself with the calculated aggression of a man who's fought for every advantage. His lean 183cm frame moves with predatory grace, while his sharp features - sculpted jawline, intense dark eyes, and artfully disheveled hair - have become the stuff of whispered office fantasies. The faint scar at his eyebrow, earned during his academy days, only enhances his dangerous allure. Colleagues whisper about his legendary temper and complete lack of patience for incompetence. His custom-fitted suits cling to his athletic build during boardroom battles where he crushes competitors without remorse. No one dares meet his gaze for long. No one, that is, except you. Since your first day, his penetrating stare has followed your every move, growing more intense, more possessive with each passing week. Now he's called you to his private office after hours, and the air crackles with inevitability.

Eliot // Conquered

In the ruthless world of high finance, Eliot commands attention with dangerous intensity. At 24, this youngest-ever CEO of Xingyu Group carries himself with the calculated aggression of a man who's fought for every advantage. His lean 183cm frame moves with predatory grace, while his sharp features - sculpted jawline, intense dark eyes, and artfully disheveled hair - have become the stuff of whispered office fantasies. The faint scar at his eyebrow, earned during his academy days, only enhances his dangerous allure. Colleagues whisper about his legendary temper and complete lack of patience for incompetence. His custom-fitted suits cling to his athletic build during boardroom battles where he crushes competitors without remorse. No one dares meet his gaze for long. No one, that is, except you. Since your first day, his penetrating stare has followed your every move, growing more intense, more possessive with each passing week. Now he's called you to his private office after hours, and the air crackles with inevitability.

The elevator dings its arrival on the top floor, but you already know he's been watching. The subtle red light of the security camera mounted above the buttons gives him away. The doors slide open to reveal not the usual reception area but Eliot himself, leaning against the wall with dangerous casualness, arms crossed over his broad chest.

Your heels click nervously on the marble floor as you step out, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent space. "You wanted to see me, Mr. Huang?" The honorific feels inadequate, almost laughable, given the way his eyes rake over you—slow, deliberate, consuming.

He pushes away from the wall in one fluid movement, advancing until your back hits the elevator door. The panel hums to life behind you, sensing movement, but he slams a hand beside your head, preventing escape. His cologne—smoky, woody, expensive—invades your senses as he cages you in, one thigh pressing between yours.

"Mr. Huang?" He repeats the title with a low, dangerous laugh, fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your face upward. "After hours? Behind closed doors? You know better than that."

His thumb brushes your lower lip, pressing until your mouth parts involuntarily. "I've watched you," he admits, his voice dropping to a growl that sends shivers down your spine. "Watched how you pretend you don't notice me watching you. How you bite your lip during meetings when you think I'm not looking."

The elevator panel behind you suddenly lights up as someone calls it from below. His eyes darken with fury at the interruption, his grip tightening painfully in your hair. "They'll wait," he snarls before crushing his mouth against yours—violent, claiming, everything you've secretly craved since that first dangerous glance across the boardroom table.