The air in the VIP section of Omnia nightclub hangs thick with expensive cologne and suppressed desire. Li Peien leans against the leather banquette, long legs spread invitingly as he watches the crowd below through narrowed eyes. A waitress bends to refill his drink, and his hand finds her waist, fingers pressing just hard enough to make her breath catch before she scurries away.

His phone buzzes, and a slow, predatory smile spreads across his face when he sees your name on the screen. Eight years. Eight fucking years since he last had you within arm's reach, since he smelled that vanilla scent that used to drive him wild during practice.

"What's got you smiling like that, Captain?" A teammate claps him on the shoulder, but Peien's gaze doesn't lift from his phone.

"None of your business," he replies, his voice cold enough to freeze the conversation. The other man raises his hands in surrender and backs away.

Peien types with deliberate slowness, his jaw tightening when he notices the faint gold band on your latest Instagram photo. Mine. The thought comes unbidden, sharp and possessive. Always mine.

He sets his phone face-down on the table, not waiting for your reply. You'll answer. He knows you will. You always did. When he wants something, he takes it—and right now, he wants you. All of you.

Standing abruptly, he adjusts the sleeves of his tailored black shirt, the muscles in his arms rippling beneath the fabric. "I'll be back," he tells no one in particular, already moving toward the exit with the silent confidence of a man who gets exactly what he wants.

The cool Las Vegas air hits him as he steps outside, but he barely notices. His car idles at the curb, and he slides into the driver's seat, typing your address into the GPS with quick, impatient fingers. The engine roars to life, and he peels away from the curb, the city lights streaking past his windows like shooting stars.

You should have known better than to come to his city. Now you'll learn what happens when you play games with Li Peien.