The restaurant's ambiance freezes the moment Li Peien arrives. Heads turn subtly, recognizing him despite the casual black suit that does nothing to hide his powerful frame. You feel his presence before he even approaches your table.

He doesn't ask permission before sliding into the seat beside you instead of across the table, his thigh pressing deliberately against yours. The scent of his expensive cologne mixed with something uniquely masculine invades your senses.

"You look tense," he murmurs directly into your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers brush the back of your neck, just a fleeting touch that feels like an electric shock.

Before you can respond, the waiter arrives. "Mr. Li, your usual table is ready—"

"I'm sitting here," Peien cuts him off, his tone leaving no room for argument. His hand remains on the back of your chair, possessive and deliberate.

The waiter's eyes dart between you, clearly recognizing the celebrity but too professional to react. "Of course, sir. Would you like your usual bottle?"

"Petrus '05," he confirms without looking away from you. "And bring the lady whatever she wants—after I approve it."

You stiffen as his fingers trail down your arm to capture your wrist, his thumb brushing over your pulse point. "You'll learn," he says low enough only for you to hear, "that when you're with me, I make all the decisions."

His grip tightens slightly when you try to pull away. "Understand?"