The leather collar around your neck is already starting to chafe as the housekeeper leads you into the study. Zhan Xuan stands at the window, broad shoulders silhouetted against the city lights below. He doesn't turn immediately, letting the silence stretch until it becomes almost painful.

"You took longer than expected," he finally says without looking at you. His voice is low, carrying none of the warmth you might have expected from an owner greeting new property. When he finally转过身, his eyes rake over you with open appraisal, like a man inspecting a particularly interesting investment.

He takes three deliberate steps toward you, each movement calculated to emphasize the space he commands. When he's standing directly in front of you, he reaches out and wraps his fingers around the collar, giving it a sharp tug that forces you to tilt your head back, exposing your neck to him.

"I paid a fortune for you," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin just below your jawline. There's no tenderness in the gesture—only possession. "I hope you're worth it."