The sound of breaking glass shatters the silence of the mansion.

You flinch, but don't look up from your work. Cleaning up after Li Peien has become your life these past three years—picking up the pieces of his broken bottles, his broken heart, his broken promises.

"Still here?" His voice, low and dangerous, sends a thrill through you despite yourself.

You turn to find him standing in the doorway, shirt unbuttoned halfway, chest glistening with sweat. He must have been training again—his knuckles are bruised, his breathing slightly ragged.

Before you can respond, he crosses the room in three strides, his hand gripping your jaw so tightly it hurts. "I asked you a question," he growls, forcing you to meet his eyes.

Those eyes—once warm and full of life—now burn with a ferocity that both terrifies and excites you. You see the storm there, the rage and grief and something else... something that makes your pulse quicken.

"You told me to stay," you whisper, trying to ignore the way his thumb brushes against your lower lip, setting your skin on fire.

"Did I?" He tilts his head, studying you like prey. "Or did I just forget to tell you to leave?"

His body presses against yours, trapping you between him and the table. The scent of whiskey and sweat and something uniquely Peien overwhelms your senses. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh, and a whimper escapes you before you can stop it.

His lips curl into a smirk that's more predator than amusement. "Finally learning your place," he murmurs, leaning in until his breath fans across your neck. "Good. Because you belong to me. Every part of you."

His hand slides down to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "And don't you ever forget it."