Chapter 1

The sound of the rain hitting the floor-to-ceiling glass was the only thing keeping me from screaming. It lashed against the windows of the penthouse, turning the Shanghai skyline into a smear of neon blood and charcoal grey.

My hand shook as I slid the white envelope across the mahogany desk. It looked pathetic there—a flimsy piece of paper against the fortress of Li Industries.

"I’m resigning," I said. My voice was thinner than I wanted it to be. "Effective immediately, President Li."

Li didn't look at the letter. He didn't even blink. He was standing by the window, his back to me, watching the storm. The reflection in the glass showed a man carved from ice and arrogance, his three-piece charcoal suit tailored to hide the violence I knew lived beneath it.

"Is that so?" he murmured. His voice was low, a vibration that traveled through the floorboards and straight up my spine.

"Yes," I lied, clutching my purse strap like a lifeline. "I... I found another position. A logistics firm in Pudong. They need a start date tomorrow."

Li turned slowly. The movement was predatory, fluid, and silent. He walked toward the desk, his eyes dark and unreadable. He reached for his cuffs, undoing the silver links with slow, deliberate movements. As the fabric pulled back, I saw it—just the edge of black ink on his wrist. The tail of the dragon.

I stopped breathing.

"Chen Logistics," Li said, tossing the cufflinks onto the glass surface of the desk. *Clink. Clink.* "I acquired them this morning. They are currently undergoing a restructuring. All hiring is frozen."

My stomach dropped. "You bought the company?"

"I buy many things, Lena. Usually to protect my assets." He rounded the corner of the desk.

I took a step back. "I’m not an asset, sir. I’m an employee."

"You are a liar," he corrected softly. He took another step. I retreated until my heels hit the cold glass of the window. There was nowhere left to go.

He stopped inches from me. He smelled of expensive tea, ozone, and the metallic tang of danger. He placed a hand on the glass next to my head, boxing me in.

"You aren't running because you found a better job," Li whispered, leaning down until his lips were brushing the shell of my ear. "You are running because of what you saw last night."

I squeezed my eyes shut. The image flashed behind my eyelids—the alleyway behind the gala. The man on his knees. The way Li had looked, calm and clinical, as he handled "business." It wasn't the violence that terrified me. It was the fact that when I watched him, I hadn't wanted to call the police. I had wanted to call his name.

"I didn't see anything," I whispered.

"You saw everything." His hand moved from the glass to my chin, tilting my head up. His thumb traced my lower lip, rough and possessive. "You saw the monster. And now you are terrified because you realize you don't want to run away from him."

"You're crazy," I breathed, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. "Let me go."

"Go, then," Li challenged. He dropped his hand. He stepped back, leaving a cold void where his heat had been. He gestured to the heavy double doors. "The elevator is unlocked. You can walk out. You can go home, find a nice, boring job, marry a nice, boring man, and never look at the shadows again."

I looked at the door. It was right there. Freedom. Safety. Sanity.

"But if you stay," Li said, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl, "if you stay in this room for one more minute, Lena, you do not get to leave. You belong to the Dragon. No more secrets. No more running."

I looked at the door. Then I looked at him.

I looked at the dark eyes that saw right through my carefully constructed armor. I looked at the man who could burn the city down for me.

I realized I had never wanted to be safe. I had spent my whole life waiting for the storm.

I didn't move toward the door. I took a step toward him.

Li’s eyes flared with triumph.

I reached up, grabbing the lapels of his suit jacket. "I’m not afraid of the dark anymore," I whispered.

Li didn't smile. He groaned, a raw, primal sound, and crushed his mouth to mine.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a claiming. It was a seal on a contract written in adrenaline and desire. He lifted me up, pressing me against the cold glass, devouring the last of my resistance. I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my hands in his hair, surrendering to the fire.

When he finally pulled back, we were both breathless. He looked down at me, his eyes possessive and fierce.

He reached over to the desk, picked up my resignation letter, and shredded it in one swift motion, letting the pieces fall to the floor like confetti.

"Get back to work," he whispered against my lips.

"Yes, sir," I answered, and I knew I would never hand in another letter again.