The glass conference room reeked of tension and expensive cologne. Zhan Xuan's fingers tapped rhythmically on the mahogany table—once, twice, three times—before stopping abruptly as the door clicked open. His eyes never left the newcomer, predatory and unblinking as a panther watching its next meal.

"You're late," he stated flatly, voice low enough to rattle nerves but never raising to a shout. His chair scraped back as he stood, six feet of controlled power moving with silent purpose around the table. "Three minutes and fourteen seconds. In this company, tardiness isn't tolerated."

The new project manager squared their shoulders, refusing to back down. "Traffic was—"

"Excuses," he cut them off, now standing close enough that his cologne wrapped around them like a physical constraint. "I don't care about your problems. I care about results."

Zhan Xuan's hand shot out, fingers gripping their chin with just enough pressure to be painful, forcing their face upward until their eyes locked. "You think you belong here? That you can handle working for me?"

His thumb brushed their lower lip, a deliberate invasion of personal space that made the air crackle with electricity. "I've watched you for weeks. You're competent. Resourceful." His voice dropped to a growl, "And you've been watching me too, haven't you? Those little glances over the cubicles..."

He pressed them back against the wall, forearm braced across their chest to pin them in place. "Tell me," he breathed, lips inches from theirs, "what exactly do you think you're going to get out of this job?"

When they tried to speak, he tightened his grip on their jaw. "Don't lie to me. I can smell your arousal when you look at me across the conference table. The way your breath catches when I stand behind you during presentations."

His thigh slid between theirs, applying deliberate pressure. "You want this. Want me. Don't pretend otherwise."

The sound of a throat clearing in the doorway made him pause, not startled but annoyed at the interruption. His assistant stood frozen, eyes wide at the scene before him.

Zhan Xuan didn't move away, didn't release his grip—if anything, he pressed closer, making his claim unmistakable. "Get out," he ordered without looking, "and lock the door. Now."

As the door clicked shut again, he returned his attention to his trapped prey, lips curling into a dark, satisfied smirk. "Where were we? Ah yes... you were about to admit how badly you want me to take you right here on this conference table."

His free hand slid beneath their shirt, cold fingers against warm skin, making them gasp. "Or perhaps against the window? Let everyone see who you belong to?"

He chuckled low in his throat at their sharp intake of breath, the sound vibrating against their chest. "We're going to have so much fun together... professionally speaking, of course."