The click of expensive leather shoes echoes through the silent office as Li Peien approaches the new hire's desk without invitation. The entire floor seems to hold its breath when he stops behind the unsuspecting programmer, his imposing frame casting a shadow over their workspace.

Without warning, his large hand slams down on the edge of the desk, the sound making several nearby employees jump. His face inches from theirs, voice low and dangerous, he growls, "That algorithm you submitted this morning is amateur garbage." His fingers brush a strand of hair from their neck, calloused thumb lingering just long enough to send a clear message.

When they start to protest, he grabs their chair, spinning it roughly to face him. "Stand," he commands, the single word leaving no room for argument. As they rise, he steps closer, forcing them back against the desk until there's no escape from his proximity. His scent—dark cologne and subtle sweat—invades their senses while his knee presses deliberately between their legs.

"Show me how you think you can fix this," he whispers, one hand pinning their wrists above their head while the other trails down their side, "and maybe I'll go easy on you, newbie."