The glass doors of Li Corporation slid open as if recognizing their master. Cold air from the central system brushed against his skin, but Li Zeyan was colder.
He didn't pause to greet anyone.
Didn't slow his steps.
Didn't acknowledge the staff who stood straighter the moment his Italian leather shoes clicked against the polished marble floors.
Black suit. Platinum cufflinks. Tie the exact shade of midnight.
He looked like a man carved from shadow and steel.
Three assistants followed him from a respectful distance with fear not to anger him, not daring to speak unless summoned.
As the chrome doors shut, Li Zeyan's reflection stared back at him.
Sharp cheekbones. Expression unreadable. Eyes dark and distant.
But behind that impassive gaze… something else flickered.
Her lips.
That stupid, clumsy moment in the car.
It wasn't even a kiss , not really.
Just an accident. A careless stumble from her side. A brief brush. Barely a second.
But it had burned.
The moment they touched, something short-circuited.
Like the sound of glass cracking under pressure.
And now, no matter how hard he tried, the memory refused to leave.
The elevator dinged. He stepped out without a word.
—
His office was located on the top floor , a space that whispered wealth, power, and danger with every corner.
Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the city z skyline, bathed in soft morning gold.
The furniture was custom-made: a mahogany desk carved from ancient wood, imported from Italy. The chair behind it was handcrafted leather , black, sleek, stitched with a thread so fine only someone of extreme taste would know its worth.
He walked in, removed his expensive suit jacket, and tossed it lightly over the chair. It landed perfectly, without a crease.
He undid the top button of his shirt and sank into the seat.
One hand reached up and ran through his hair, disheveling the carefully styled strands, a rare, unguarded movement.
Why couldn't he stop thinking about it?
The feel of her lips.
Warm.
Full.
Pink.
Soft in a way that matched how she looked that day , disheveled and beautiful without trying. His shirt hanging off her frame. Hair tied messily, skin still slightly flushed from sleep.
She didn't even realize how she looked.
And maybe that was the problem.
She wasn't seductive on purpose. She wasn't calculating.
And yet, she was burrowing under his skin with frightening ease.
He knew those lips would be soft.
The moment he saw her asleep, when he came back from work late that night, almost pushed by the urge to touch her face , he had known.
But he didn't expect to care.
He had built walls so thick around himself, even warmth couldn't find its way through. He didn't want love. Didn't need tenderness. He had been shaped by hatred, disappointment, and betrayal.
Even his own grandparents had cursed his existence, accusing him of killing his parents.
So he became what the world asked of him a weapon. Sharp. Ruthless.
And now here she was.
Clumsy. Gentle. Unwanted by her family. Married to him by force. A girl who said she didn't need his love, only her space.
"I'll live," she had whispered, wearing his shirt, draped in his jacket, as if claiming her right to exist on her own terms.
That angered him.
No, not anger.
Something else.
It shook him.
He hated that he noticed her. Hated that he cared enough to send that jacket. Hated that her presence made the cold feel slightly less comfortable.
He clenched his jaw, trying to focus.
His phone buzzed, reports, stock updates, security alerts.
He ignored them.
His mind, usually precise, brutal, and controlled, kept drifting back to the collision.
He cursed under his breath.
What was wrong with him?
He wasn't some hormonal teenager. He was Li Zeyan.
Feared by corporations.
Obeyed by the elite.
Feared even by his own family.
And yet...
His eyes flicked toward the security camera feed on the wall. She'd be arriving at work soon. In his building.
Wearing his ID.
Working under his name.
She would pretend nothing happened. She would smile at others like she always did, quietly, softly.
As if she wasn't haunting his every thought.
He leaned back in his chair, breathing in slowly, letting the silence crawl over him.
But even silence wasn't safe anymore.
Not with the memory of her lips, brief, accidental, unforgettable.
Not with the way she looked at him, not like a CEO or a husband or a monster.
But like a man.
And that… that was dangerous.
Because Li Zeyan could survive hatred, revenge, betrayal.
But to be seen?
That might just kill him.