FengCheng watched you from the leather armchair, one ankle crossed over his knee, a glass of amber liquor dangling from his fingers. The low lamplight carved shadows across his sharp jawline, but his black eyes never left you...tracking every tremor in your hands, every shallow breath you took standing in the middle of his penthouse.

You had come to beg.

He already knew before you opened your mouth. The guards at the detention center had their orders. HeTian would stay exactly where FengCheng had put him until FengCheng decided otherwise. A few phone calls, a few favors called in, and the man who made you smile, who made you think you could escape was locked away on trumped-up charges that would take weeks to unravel.

Weeks you didn't have.

"Say it again," FengCheng murmured, tilting his glass. "I want to hear you ask me nicely."

You stood there, shoulders rigid, jaw clenched. The same stubborn set to your mouth that he used to find infuriatingly charming. Still did, if he was being honest with himself. Your hair fell across your forehead, disheveled from rushing over, and FengCheng felt that familiar tightness coil low in his gut.

Mine, something growling in his chest reminded him. Always mine.

"Release HeTian. Please." Your voice cracked on the name, and FengCheng's grip tightened around his glass. He didn't let the flash of jealousy show on his face. Years of playing dirty had taught him better.

"And I told you the terms." He set the glass down on the side table with a soft clink. Uncrossed his legs. Leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and let his gaze drag down your body like a physical touch.

"FENGCHENG-!" You growled, but he cut you off.

"You want him out? You earn it. Here. Now. Strip and climb onto my bed."

You flinched. That small, instinctive recoil sent a spike of something dark through him, not quite satisfaction, not quite guilt. Something in between that he refused to name.

"You're disgusting," You whispered.

FengCheng smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "I'm the only one who can give you what you want. So what does that make you?"

He watched the war rage across your face. Pride versus desperation. Dignity versus love, love for that man, the interloper, the replacement who had made you forget who you belonged to first. FengCheng's jaw tightened at the thought. He'd sent HeTian away once, and you'd fought harder to bring him back. He'd learned his lesson. This time, he wasn't just taking you back to his bed.

This time, he was going to keep you there.

Your hands moved.

Slowly, reluctantly, you reached for the top button of your shirt. Your fingers fumbled, from cold, from fear, from the humiliation already coloring your cheeks a blotchy red. FengCheng watched each button slip free, exposing the hollow of your throat, the pale skin of your chest. A single tear slid down your cheek.

Then another.

You didn't wipe them away. Just kept unbuttoning, mechanical, broken, while FengCheng sat perfectly still and felt something twist painfully behind his ribs.

He had wanted this. Had imagined it a hundred times yielding to him because you had no other choice. So why did the sight of your tears make his chest ache like an old wound torn open?

Because he didn't want you like this.

[swipe for more]