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Guan Shan tossed back the rest of his champagne, the notes of elderflower and mint settling with a sparkling tingle on his tongue and tasting like summer. If he closed his eyes, he could tune out the tinny tinkle of glass and silverware, the trill of jazz piano, and the timeless lilts and drawls of polite small talk. He couldn’t, however, tune him out—the tenor of mahogany set to smoulder, laughter like gravel wrapped in silk.
‘There is only one rule: You obey me without question.’
Even with his gaze firmly fixed on the iconic skyline of the capital and the backdrop of a setting sun, Guan Shan couldn’t shake off the image of him. Decked out in a Valentino tux with satin trimmings, Guan Shan’s new boss was the paragon of power and grace. And calculated brutality. The shiny black bowtie around his neck was faux genteelness. It was like putting a collar on a panther and calling it a housecat.
Guan Shan would know; he’d been the one to fasten it.
‘Kneel.’
With a sharp tug at his own collar—too snug for the summer breeze to slip through and cool his heated skin—Guan Shan startled slightly when a pint-sized waitress appeared at his elbow to whisk away his empty flute glass. She primly asked if he would like another, her accent polished and a far cry from her roots: the tenderloin district of the city, its dialect one that Guan Shan had smothered as soon as he was old enough to realise it marked him as something lesser.
The waitress was one of many youth offenders the catering company hired as part of a rehabilitation programme, one that Guan Shan was aware his boss endorsed privately by way of anonymous donations. Made public, it would have been an excellent PR move, potent enough to snuff out the contentious press that painted He Enterprise as ruthless and power-hungry. But the CEO resisted Guan Shan’s not-so-subtle suggestions to disclose his philanthropy. After all, the He name was built on savagery and the corpses of rival corporate companies, not goodwill and charity.
In fact, the outdoor party atop the sleekest skyscraper in the city was a toast to He Enterprise’s recent acquisition of a long-standing rival: She & Co., Guan Shan’s former employer. The takeover had been hostile with collateral damage galore, including Guan Shan’s job as a PA to one of the directors. The sting of redundancy had been short-lived though; the position of executive secretary at He Enterprise opened up and Guan Shan suddenly found himself at the CEO’s every beck and call. It was more than he’d bargained for, not least because Guan Shan couldn’t help but want to surrender to the sheer savoir-faire of a man who could command a board room full of the wealthiest and most influential people this side of the Pacific. It didn’t help matters that Guan Shan was also stupidly distracted by how eminently enticing his boss looked in a three-piece, those broad shoulders and buff thighs regularly testing the mettle of designer threads.
Enticing and yet, achingly unavailable.
Softly, the waitress cleared her throat, still waiting for a reply.
Shit.
Just as he was about to ask for something stronger than a champagne cocktail, Guan Shan’s nape prickled with the familiar feeling of being watched. He turned his head towards the VIP lounge where the CEO was mingling with a handful of board directors. Guan Shan’s nose twitched as the breeze carried a fusion of the spice of expensive booze and expensive cologne, the faint undertones of chlorine from the terrace pool and the cloying scents of a city at dusk.
‘Be a good boy and show me how much you want it.’
Smoky grey eyes, dappled with twilight and twinkling fairy lights, locked on Guan Shan’s. There was a discrete but unmistakable shake of the head and Guan Shan’s heart stuttered at the implication. He quickly looked away before someone caught him gawking and mistook it for eye-fucking the boss.
“Club soda,” Guan Shan murmured to the waitress, opting instead for a non-alcoholic beverage. “With a twist. Thank you.”
As soon as she returned with his drink, Guan Shan made his way over to the oyster bar, hoping to put some distance between himself and the VIP lounge. A couple of colleagues from Legal sidled up to him and Guan Shan half-heartedly engaged in some meaningless conversation about upcoming vacation destinations. Their cordialness, however, was a thin veneer stretched over a burning curiosity and Guan Shan wasn’t at all surprised when they started dropping indirect questions and comments about the number of holiday homes the boss owned. Resisting the urge to flip them off, Guan Shan made his excuses and headed for the gents.
He didn’t get very far.
A high-pitched whistle followed by an ear-popping bang stunned him in his tracks—along with every other guest on the rooftop. A flash of brilliance lit up the early night sky, and the whizz and crackle of starry fireworks rebounded against the cheers and hoots of a receptive crowd. Getting caught up in the celebratory ambience and the dazzling display, it was a minute or two before Guan Shan registered the presence behind him.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” He Tian remarked, tone like a honey-warmed blade.
“With good reason.” Guan Shan folded his arms, pitching his voice cavalier but missing the note completely.
When a loaded silence fell between them, stifling and uncomfortable, Guan Shan peeked cautiously over his shoulder. He Tian’s pupils were blown wide in the darkness, their depth immeasurable, the message they conveyed unreadable. To most.
“Sir,” Guan Shan added with haste, dampening down the knee-jerk reaction to scowl. To rebel. He inclined his head downwards to indicate his misstep, his collar low enough that it left the back of his neck exposed.
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Not much. A glass and a half at most.”
“Good.” He Tian rolled his shoulders as he contemplated the explosive, kaleidoscopic exhibition in the sky. “We’re leaving.”
Guan Shan stiffened. “Now? Together?”
“Did you think I’d leave without you?”
“No. I mean—” As discreetly as he could, Guan Shan surveyed the guests hovering nearby. Enraptured by the fireworks, no one was looking in their direction. “We can’t. Not together.” Guan Shan could feel the displeasure rolling off He Tian and he turned towards him, leaning close enough so that he could be heard over the cracks and booms, but not too close to look intimate. “We can’t just... People will talk. They’re already talking.”
The shadow of a wry smile traced He Tian’s mouth. “That was a rhetorical question.”
Guan Shan’s breath hitched; he sometimes forgot how unyielding He Tian could be. It was as infuriating as much as it was a turn-on.
The scintillating, pyrotechnic storm reflected off the feral cut of He Tian’s cheekbones, catching the blue-black tones in the relaxed, slick-back coiffure Guan Shan had watched He Tian casually style his hair into earlier that day. By virtue of habit, Guan Shan’s gaze was drawn to the engagement ring on He Tian’s left hand, the platinum band glinting daringly in the radiance offered by the evening’s entertainment. Guan Shan felt a tightening under his ribcage—guilt. Excitement. Denial.
Defiance.
“I hate being your dirty little secret,” Guan Shan whispered, hugging himself against a chill that had little to do with the mild temperatures of a summer night.
Lips curving into something just this side of a smirk, He Tian asked, “Am I to suppose that your symphony of screams and pleas last night was your way of telling me how much you hated choking on my cock?”
The choice of words along with the teasing tone underlying He Tian’s upper-crust cadence had Guan Shan’s face simmering with a mortified flush. He shushed He Tian, frantically gauging whether anyone in the immediate vicinity had overheard.
“The only opinion that should be of any concern to you is mine.” A growl burred low in He Tian’s throat, impatience making the sound all the more menacing. “Now move your ass.”
With a last-ditch attempt to reason with He Tian, Guan Shan blurted, “I haven’t even booked a room—”
“We won’t be needing one. We’ll spend the night at my residence.”
Guan Shan baulked. “But what about—”
“We’ll have the place to ourselves,” He Tian cut in tersely. His dark gaze dropped to Guan Shan’s lips as though he was tempted to claim Guan Shan there and then. Instead—and much to Guan Shan’s relief—He Tian turned briskly on his heel, slipping into the throng of bodies dressed in their best black-tie attire. He Tian was taller than most, and Guan Shan had no trouble visually tracking him in the crowd as he headed towards the smoky glass doors that led back indoors.
Hesitating, Guan Shan considered the scandal that would arise should his affair with his boss—his engaged-to-be-married boss—come to public light. There was little doubt in Guan Shan’s mind that he would lose his job, that his career in the industry would be over. After the rumours emerged that he—a low-class commoner from the bowels of the city—bit pillows to climb his way to the top, who the fuck would hire him? And what about He Tian? Would his moral indiscretions adversely affect the net worth of He Enterprise? Would he be forced to step down as CEO? Surely the affair would spark renewed scrutiny of the objectives and methods used in the acquisition of She & Co.?
“Fucking shit,” Guan Shan snapped, and winced when a female colleague from HR squinted at him.
Nimbly, he sidestepped a waiter and weaved through black tuxes and bedazzling floor-length dresses, barely acknowledging the salutations addressed at him. He needed to put an end to this. To tell He Tian that they couldn’t be more than boss and secretary; the stakes were too damn high.
The glass doors slid open automatically with an artificially cooled gust of air and Guan Shan spotted He Tian’s board back at the bank of elevators, about to disappear into the one reserved for VIP clientele.
“Hold the lift,” Guan Shan hollered, and the bellhop fumbled to keep the doors open.
As he jogged towards them, Guan Shan mumbled a word of thanks to the somewhat flustered bellhop who was looking to He Tian for non-verbal signs that he was disgruntled with the interruption or would object to Guan Shan mounting. Not surprisingly, there were none.
Guan Shan boarded the cabin, biting his back teeth when the bellhop dutifully quipped, “Have yourselves a good night, gentlemen.”
Yeah, right.
The doors glided closed with a subdued swish, tranquil elevator music filling the tense silence between them and doing fuck all to soothe Guan Shan’s tightly wound nerves. The multi-panel mirrored interior of the cabin cast back their overt differences: He Tian’s wide, muscular frame and tailored tux, his buffed nails and unblemished, tanned skin; Guan Shan was shorter, narrower, his suit rented out as a business expense and his pale face a freckled mess.
As if he could read Guan Shan’s thoughts, He Tian met his gaze in the polished mirror, boldly drinking in Guan Shan’s reflection. When Guan Shan’s cheeks coloured, relish lit up He Tian’s eyes and a smug slant titled his lips.
Damn him.
Since the VIP elevator was programmed not to stop en route, it would take less than two minutes to descend to the ground lobby. Guan Shan couldn’t afford to pussyfoot around.
“I can’t go home with you, sir,” he announced. When He Tian turned to look at him directly rather than through the mirror, Guan Shan did the same, having to angle his head up to make up for the height difference. “The fallout isn’t worth it.”
He Tian’s gaze narrowed, jaw squaring. “I don’t recall you having any such doubts when I invited you to my hotel room last night.”
“I know.” Embarrassed, Guan Shan looked away for a second. “I wasn’t... thinking straight.”
Stepping closer, He Tian crowded Guan Shan till his back hit a mirrored wall. One hand slipping out of his pocket, he cupped Guan Shan’s chin, fingers like a vice, thumb a sweeping, velvet caress against his lower lip.
“I don’t play games,” He Tian stated. “And I take no pleasure in bedding an unwilling lover.”
Guan Shan’s heart thudded against his breastbone. He tried to take a steady breath in—Amber Aoud, the hints of cinnamon of the organic cigars He Tian smoked when in the company of top brass, and the lingering aroma of the grilled meat they’d dined on—but it caught in his throat like a spiked wrecking ball.
“I’m not... unwilling. But we can’t—Sir, this is...”
“Dammit, spit it out.”
“Last night was a mistake,” Guan Shan professed. But the tremor—the want—in his voice made a lie of his words.
He Tian saw right through him. “A mistake?”
His thumb prodded at Guan Shan’s lips, and Guan Shan reflexively mouthed at the pad, tasting skin at the end of a long, sun-warmed day, a trace of citrus and high-end liquor. Pressing their bodies close till their chests were flush, till He Tian’s thigh was a hot brand against Guan Shan’s groin, He Tian dipped his head and whispered into Guan Shan’s ear.
“What was it you said to me last night, when you were down on your knees?” Guan Shan’s breath stuttered as scalding licks of air curled around the whorls of his earlobe. He Tian wedged a thigh between Guan Shan’s legs, and firmly nudged it against the underside of Guan Shan’s balls. “Hm? Be a good boy and remind me.”
The impulse to defy—to push back, to rebel—re-surfaced, and Guan Shan had to quell a “fuck you” with a grunt that sounded more needy than he’d intended.
“I’m still waiting,” He Tian urged, teeth grazing the delicate flesh of Guan Shan’s ear.
“I said...” Guan Shan swallowed audibly. “I said, ‘Can I suck it?’”
He Tian, frowning, pulled back slightly so that they were eye-to-eye again. “That’s not how I remember it.” Slipping his thumb between Guan Shan’s lips, He Tian slowly plunged it in and out. Guan Shan allowed it, enjoying the feel of the digit against his tongue, although its weight, its taste, its girth was nowhere near as sublime as the heavy, thick-veined cock he’d had in his mouth last night. “I think a re-enactment might help jog your memory.”
Cheeks flaming, Guan Shan spluttered around He Tian’s thumb. “No, wait—”
He Tian stepped back, sliding his hands back into his pockets with an enviable nonchalance.
When Guan Shan protested further, He Tian simply stared at him, dissatisfaction and a cutting temperament resonant in his silence. Not long after, Guan Shan found himself on his knees, the de lux carpet cushioning his landing. He could barely look up at He Tian, shame and anger blurring his vision.
“I said—”
“Not quite, love.”
Flicking his gaze upwards, Guan Shan glimpsed the distinct outline of He Tian’s arousal, his tuxedo pants tight enough that Guan Shan could make out the flare of his cockhead against his left thigh. Travelling further north, Guan Shan’s survey took in the hungry, harassed look in He Tian’s dilated eyes. Clearly, he wasn’t as unaffected as he was making out to be and that fact alone emboldened Guan Shan to undo the buttons on his own fly. In imitation of the wanton way he’d played with himself last night, Guan Shan wriggled his hand down his pants.
“‘I wanna suck it. Please, sir,’” Guan Shan echoed. “‘I’m a cocksucker and I want your fat cock so fucking bad.’”
A rumble of approval sounded deep within He Tian’s chest. “That’s more like it.”
He helped Guan Shan back onto his feet and gently coerced his hand out of his pants. Once he’d buttoned Guan Shan back up again and tucked his shirttails in, He Tian took Guan Shan’s left hand—the one that had been cupping his clammy balls—and planted a chaste kiss on the swell of his palm. And when He Tian cradled Guan Shan’s hand against his nose and took a deep, deliberate breath in, Guan Shan’s face heated up like it had been set alight.
Meanwhile, a content smile coasted across He Tian’s lips. “Now, here’s how I want you. And here’s how it’s going to happen.”
Oh, mother of fuck.
The elevator bell dinged.
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The ride to He Tian’s opulent penthouse on the other side of the city was, for the most part, uneventful. He kept a possessive hand curled around Guan Shan’s upper thigh, kneading now and again, pinkie only occasionally brushing against Guan Shan’s dick—even then, it didn’t appear deliberate. His other hand was busy flicking through his personal cell phone doing fuck knows what.
Although the electrochromic glass between the front and rear passenger compartments offered sound-proof privacy, He Tian had chosen not to render the screen opaque for the duration of the journey. Guan Shan knew He Tian’s chauffeur was too professional to be sneaking looks through the rear-view mirror, but it made Guan Shan feel self-conscious anyway. Consequently, he spent the free time on his work phone, itemising emails and thwarting interview requests from tabloid magazines wanting the downlow on the country’s formerly most eligible bachelor and what was speculated to be the wedding of the decade.
Once the luxury limo had rolled to a stop, the chauffeur opened their door, bowing his head deferentially when He Tian and Guan Shan respectively wished him a good night and a safe drive home. Together, they ambled towards the bespoke revolving doors that led to the foyer of the high-rise residential tower, Guan Shan stiffening minutely when He Tian rested a hand against the small of his back.
“Relax,” He Tian murmured, pulling Guan Shan close like they were a couple returning from an evening stroll under a fireworks-spangled sky.
It was easy to see the additional respect and attention He Tian commanded when he entered the building—after all, he owned the entire block of swanky-ass apartments, all of which were in high demand and currently on lease, save for the penthouse which was reserved for He Tian’s personal use. The nightwatchman greeted them both congenially and the concierge congratulated He Tian on the acquisition and asked whether they would like some celebratory fizz to be brought up.
“Not tonight.” He Tian peered down at Guan Shan meaningfully, who blushed in response and internally cursed He Tian for his brazenness. “Send up a full breakfast at eight tomorrow with those fruit and cream pastries from Jian’s Patisserie. You may choose to complement it with something light from the wet bar.”
Acknowledging the request with sibilated adulation, the concierge summoned the private elevator for them. Once the biometric scanner inside the capacious cabin recognised He Tian, they ascended to the top of the complex, bypassing the restricted access to the uppermost floors. Guan Shan had visited the triplex penthouse before—although not in any immoral capacity—and it was pretentious to a T: floor-to-ceiling windows and a sky-high glass atrium, a wraparound terrace with a vertical garden and twin infinity pools, and breathtaking, panoramic views of the West Lake.
As soon as they exited the elevator, He Tian curtly indicated the cloakroom. “You can place your things in there.”
Guan Shan then watched him disappear in the direction of the kitchen, motion sensor lights illuminating his path, footsteps a muted clack against marble floors. A fluttering sensation in Guan Shan’s chest made itself known, and his fingers tingled with apprehension. Shit. He was starting to feel a little lightheaded.
Was he really doing this?
Toeing off the fanciest shoes he owned, Guan Shan shrugged out of his blazer and opened the door to the cloakroom. He was reaching for a clothes hanger when he noticed an assortment of coats and jackets that were too slender to be He Tian’s, a pair of boots and running sneakers that were too small to be his either. Guan Shan swallowed back his guilt, wondering what the fuck he was doing being a homewrecker. Did he think he was fucking special because He Tian had chosen to bed him rather than one of the countless other offers that were undoubtedly lined up?
How the hell could Guan Shan think this was okay?
“You’re still dressed.”
Heart tripping over a beat, Guan Shan swivelled round and clumsily dropped the hanger. He Tian, sipping from a crystal-cut tumbler, was studying Guan Shan with a pensive look on his face. Neither of them said anything as He Tian leisurely circled him, gaze narrowed and intent, like a panther assessing its prey.
Before Guan Shan knew it, he was wordlessly accepting the tumbler from He Tian, eyes widening as his boss deftly detached Guan Shan’s bowtie—a clip-on—and loosened the collar of his shirt with a flick of the wrist.
“You’re having second thoughts,” He Tian surmised, matter-of-factly.
Guan Shan worried his lower lip; He Tian’s nimble fingers were a blur as they efficiently unbuttoned his shirt and stripped him of it.
“You’re engaged,” Guan Shan stressed. The beginning of a reproachful growl had him swiftly tacking on a “sir.”
The temperature in the penthouse was higher by degrees than it was outside at this time of the night, the lingering indoor heat from the balmy summer day warm enough that Guan Shan hadn’t realised he was almost nude until He Tian instructed him to step out of the pants pooled around his ankles.
Clad only in socks and cotton boxer briefs, Guan Shan fumbled for the right words to explain how wrong this felt. How right, and how good, it felt to be desired, but how wrong it was to desire someone who belonged to another.
As he struggled with his conflicting thoughts, Guan Shan quietly observed as He Tian retrieved the hanger from the floor and hung the rented suit from it, smoothing away a crease in the blazer. There was something sensual in the way his boss had undressed him and meticulously put away his outfit, and there was no doubt in Guan Shan’s mind that the attention He Tian was lavishing him with—him, a nobody from the slums of the city who was foolish enough, poor enough, desperate enough to have been She-fucking-Li’s personal lackey—was flattering. Heart-warming, even. And when He Tian crouched and slipped Guan Shan’s sock off, pressing a cool, wet kiss to the inner arch of his foot, Guan Shan had never felt so wanted.
Fuck dammit.
He couldn’t do this.
“I don’t want to be the reason your engagement, your marriage, falls apart.” Guan Shan’s voice cracked a little. “It wouldn’t be fair. To either of you.”
He Tian ignored him in favour of slipping off the other sock, forgoing a kiss to nip lightly at the flesh of Guan Shan’s first toe. It tickled and Guan Shan suppressed the whimper that wanted to escape, the whimper that beckoned for more. His dick, on the other hand, was enjoying the sight of He Tian—with his perfectly pressed tux and perfectly-in-place hair—on his knees. It twitched expectantly within the confines of Guan Shan’s clingy underwear.
Just as Guan Shan was admiring the view—the curve of He Tian’s nape, the precisely buzzed hairline, the width of the collar needed to accommodate his thick neck—He Tian stood up with a soft exhale.
“Drink up,” He Tian said, folding the socks into a ball. “You’ll need it.”
“But, sir—”
“Drink.”
With an infuriated sigh, Guan Shan knocked the glass back—a sparkling lemonade, chilled. He hadn’t realised how parched he was and wished the tumbler had been full, but fuck if he was going to ask for a refill.
He forgot that He Tian could read him like an open book.
“You can have more later,” He Tian intoned, taking the glass from Guan Shan and placing it on a nearby console table. He then hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband of Guan Shan’s underwear. Rested his hands on Guan Shan’s hips. Pulled him close.
The wool of his pants brushed lightly against Guan Shan’s inner thighs. The satin of his lapels teased Guan Shan’s nipples. The cotton of his shirt rasped under Guan Shan’s clenched fists.
With their height difference, he was at eye-level with He Tian’s delectable lips and it took every ounce of self-control not to push up onto his toes and kiss them. Bruise them. Own them.
“You called yourself my dirty little secret,” He Tian muttered, the words no more than a whisper. Guan Shan looked up and flinched at the storm brewing in He Tian’s grey eyes. “You presume I permit secrets in my relationship. That I would entertain an illicit affair. That my prospective spouse is none the wiser.” At Guan Shan’s stunned silence, He Tian continued, “You don’t think I shared how shameless you were last night? How indecent you looked with your lips wrapped around me? How, from the very first moment you stepped into my office, I’ve conjured countless crude scenarios, each ending with you bent over my desk?”
Guan Shan didn’t realise he was quaking until the fabric bunched in his fists hissed at being stretched to its limit.
All this time, Guan Shan had battled with the self-reproach of lusting after a man who was not only his boss, but spoken for. Last night, he’d put that all aside for what he’d assumed would be a one-off indulgence, a guilty pleasure. To feel. To be felt. Fuck, it had been the longest blowjob Guan Shan had ever given. He Tian hadn’t even let him cum and yet it had been enough to watch He Tian come undone.
Guan Shan should have felt a sense of relief that he wasn’t a sordid secret, a homewrecker, seducing a man who he had no business seducing. But all he felt was anger, humiliation, that He Tian had divulged the intimate details of their night. It had been... sacred to Guan Shan. Special.
Warring with his emotions, Guan Shan tried to pull away from He Tian but his boss maintained a bruising grip on his waist.
“So I’m, what? Just a plaything? Your piece on the side?” He grit his teeth. “A third? Fuck that.”
One of He Tian’s hands released their hold, only to encircle the back of Guan Shan’s neck. Fingers swept a pulse point in Guan Shan’s throat, a thumb stroked the hinge of his jaw. It had a strangely soothing effect and Guan Shan felt himself melt a little.
“You, my love, are the most exquisite man I’ve ever laid eyes on.” With an icy edge to his voice, He Tian snarled, “And, no, no one will be claiming you but me. Not my intended. Certainly not those bastards from Legal.”
“Huh?”
“This isn’t a dalliance. It’s an agreement with an exclusivity clause. I won’t have you shaking your ass at other men. Or women, for that matter.”
Affronted, but also revelling in the relaxing ministrations He Tian was bestowing on his neck, Guan Shan countered, “I’ve never shaken my ass in my life.”
He Tian glanced at the open door of the cloakroom. “Next you’ll be claiming you bought those improperly tailored dress pants because they were a bargain and not because of how they advertised your availability.”
“Actually, yes.” Guan Shan bit his lip to suppress a smile; he hadn’t known how thrilling it would be to experience a possessive He Tian. “Speaking of improper...”
A snap of elastic. A two-second shimmy. A careless kick and a pair of boxer briefs were flung across the entranceway.
He Tian’s amused gaze followed their trajectory before flicking back to Guan Shan. “I don’t approve of the way you divest yourself of your clothing.”
Guan Shan rolled his eyes to distract from how much He Tian’s uppity, high-bred accent turned him on. “What you gonna do about it”—he flashed what he hoped was a naughty come-spank-me grin—“sir?”
“For one, you’ll be leaving without them.”
“I could work with that. And two?”
“I hadn’t spared you a climax last night and I was intending to be more... merciful tonight. But now...”
“No, you weren’t,” Guan Shan interjected, calling him out on the half-truth.
“No,” He Tian conceded, a predatory glint in his eyes. “I wasn’t.”
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Bathed in a comfortable darkness, the master bedroom was bracketed by three walls made entirely of glass, none of which were currently blacked out. The soft lustre from distant city lights and the shimmer illuminating the pavilions, bridges and shores of the West Lake seeped through the windows, as did sputtering bursts of brilliance from the closing scene of the fireworks show that now seemed a lifetime ago. The crystal pitcher of sparkling lemonade on the bedside table fractured the glimmering lights into a harlequin mosaic across the bedroom ceiling that Guan Shan might have found pretty—were he not preoccupied with an entirely different kind of visual.
Oh, fuck me.
Bowtie unfastened, cast aside. Tux jacket dismissed, lace-up Oxfords untied. Sleeves rolled up, collar open wide.
I want him I want him I want him.
Sprawled naked on a bedspread that felt like a dream, Guan Shan propped himself up on his elbows and admired the delicious specimen of manhood before him. He Tian might not belong to Guan Shan, but he was his for the night. And Guan Shan was hellbent on making it one to remember.
Once he’d unclasped his Breitling watch, He Tian briefly rummaged through the top drawer of the bedside table, pulling out a red velvet pouch that fit in the palm of his hand.
“What’s that?” Curious, Guan Shan sat up.
“A gift,” He Tian replied, relinquishing it to him.
Tentative, Guan Shan tugged at the drawstrings and the pouch unravelled. “I don’t want you buying me gifts. I’m not... selling myself to you.”
“I know. The gift isn’t intended for you. It’s for me.” He Tian perched on the edge of the mattress, lofting a dark brow when Guan Shan hesitated.
Certain it would be nothing short of an exorbitant sex toy, Guan Shan inhaled sharply when he pulled out a pair of slender, silver bangles. They caught the light and glistened like a thousand diamonds.
“Are you trying to tell me you have a jewellery kink or something?”
“Or something,” He Tian said cryptically as he took a bangle at a time and slid one each over Guan Shan’s hands. A snug fit, they curled elegantly around his wrists, scarcely dangling at all.
The way He Tian’s gaze heated had Guan Shan covering the short distance between them and crawling into his lap. Stradling his boss, Guan Shan linked his arms loosely around He Tian’s neck.
“A bling kink seems pretty tame for you, sir,” Guan Shan teased.
Leaning in, He Tian ghosted his lips over Guan Shan’s in a knee-buckling almost-kiss. “Behave.”
Suddenly, the airy weights on Guan Shan’s wrists were a leaden load, pulling at his arms till his wrists overlapped and locked together.
“What the shit?” Guan Shan exclaimed. He swung his arms over He Tian’s head, trying again to wrench his wrists apart. He could roll them around one another, but only with the bangles still connected at any one point. It was like—like they were fucking magnets. “What the shit?” Guan Shan repeated, baffled.
“Tame enough for you, love?” A twinkle in He Tian’s eye danced to a tune Guan Shan wished he could hear.
“These are handcuffs.”
“Only when you misbehave.”
Scowling, Guan Shan tried once more to force his wrists apart. “What does that mean?”
He Tian enveloped Guan Shan’s hands, stilling them. “It means, when you’re a good boy”—the bangles came apart without so much as a clink—“they’re simply pretty pieces of—what did you call them?—bling.”
Guan Shan blinked, taken aback by how lightweight his wrists felt again. “Wait,” he mused, impressed despite himself. Crazy rich folk. “They’re voice-operated.”
“The catch and release commands are programmed specifically to my intonation,” He Tian confirmed. “Although, in case of an emergency, it will also recognise a pre-set safe word uttered generically.”
Guan Shan had zero intention of flirting with safe words and safe signals tonight, but He Tian’s consideration was touching. Grasping He Tian’s shoulders, Guan Shan pushed himself up onto his knees, groaning softly when his balls—still heavy and full from the night before—swung between his legs. He’d been rocking a semi for the last fifteen minutes which, much to Guan Shan’s annoyance, He Tian was still ignoring.
“Tell me what you want,” Guan Shan crooned, scrambling to re-phrase when He Tian’s jaw clenched. “I mean—Sir, how may I serve you?”
He Tian stroked his knuckles down Guan Shan’s cheek, his other hand curving around Guan Shan’s hip bone. Squeezing. The pressure a promise of things to come. “I want you speared on my cock.”
Guan Shan’s keen whimper was cut short, fusing with a fervent, ravenous growl that He Tian unleashed when he crashed their mouths together.
Fucking finally.
Sucking on He Tian’s full upper lip, Guan Shan threaded his fingers into his boss’s maddeningly flawless coiffure, scraping blunt nails against his scalp, scrunching up feather-soft locks of hair. Their lips grew slick, sliding against one other with damp sounds lost in the harmonics of heavy breathing and urgent notes. When He Tian sunk his teeth into Guan Shan’s lower lip—the sting sharp and sweet—Guan Shan gasped, tugging at the hair strands looped around his fingers. Wanting more. Wanting to feel more.
The thrust of He Tian’s scalding, moist tongue was a welcome intrusion, and Guan Shan sucked on it like he had on the thick cock that had fucked his mouth last night, teasing it with twines of tongue and the light graze of teeth. A hot hand palmed Guan Shan’s balls, firm but not enough. And he rocked his hips, trying to get He Tian to touch his neglected dick.
“Fuck me,” Guan Shan panted against He Tian’s mouth. “Please. Please.”
“On your back,” He Tian instructed, not sounding the least bit breathless. Bastard. “We’ll have words about the ruin of my hair later.”
Hiding a smile behind his hand, Guan Shan glided off He Tian’s lap. As he laid down, he took in the contrast of He Tian’s mussed hair, lips swollen and glistering, and the sartorial grace of his slightly wrinkled shirt and impeccably cut dress pants. The long, hungry gazes and the hauteur guise.
Perfection.
And, for tonight at least, he was all Guan Shan’s.
Without overthinking it—because, fuck, he’d never been so bold before—Guan Shan hooked his hands into the crooks of his knees, pulling them toward his chest and splaying his thighs open. He Tian was busy retrieving the velvet pouch and almost dropped it when he caught sight of Guan Shan, legs spread wide, inviting.
Ears burning like they were on fire, Guan Shan worked some intimate muscles, hoping that his hole flexed in a saucy wink. He had always pitched himself average in the looks department, including his undercarriage. But when He Tian ran a slightly tremulous hand down his face, grey eyes smouldering like coal, Guan Shan figured his closely trimmed pubes, smooth balls and hairless asshole were adequately suited to his boss’s tastes.
He was still embarrassed as fuck.
“Where did you learn that?” He Tian asked, voice strained.
Guan Shan floundered. “Learn what?”
“How to bring a man to his knees.”
There was a blur of motion, a dip and bounce of the mattress. Next thing Guan Shan knew, He Tian was between his thighs, tilting his ass off the bed for better access, and licking a thick, wet stripe from his hole all the way to the divot between his tight balls.
“Fuck.”
“You ever show another man this side of you and you’ll be wearing that bling long-term, permanently shackled,” He Tian growled against his perineum, the vibrations making Guan Shan’s balls squirm in the best way.
“I won’t,” Guan Shan babbled. “I won’t. Just... don’t stop.”
He Tian laved him with a few more swipes, each hotter and wetter than the last, skimming over Guan Sha’s hole but not quite penetrating. He then nuzzled Guan Shan’s balls, breathing in, sniffing, taking one in his mouth and then the other.
Holy fuck, my boss is sucking my balls.
When He Tian chuckled, releasing his hold on Guan Shan’s thighs, Guan Shan discovered he’d spoken aloud.
“You’d do well to remember who’s in charge here,” He Tian remarked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Guan Shan felt a whine start in his throat and he clamped down on it. “You’re still gonna fuck me though, right?”
He Tian mumbled something under his breath that Guan Shan didn’t quite catch; it sounded like “bossy bottom”. He watched as He Tian picked up the velvet pouch again, plucking out a translucent vial of clear liquid.
“What is that? Rich-man’s lube?”
Huffing an exasperated breath and pinning Guan Shan with a look, He Tian replied, “It’s a sensual oil made entirely of natural ingredients that can be used to massage and lubricate. It’s unscented, tasteless and thoroughly edible.”
“So...” Guan Shan squinted, biting back a smile. “Rich-man’s lube.”
“Yes, and a worthy accompaniment to this rich-man’s cock, wouldn’t you say?” This had them both laughing, and Guan Shan realised the flush on his cheeks was only partly due to his arousal; he was happy. Hopeful, even. Something he’d never felt under She Li’s rule, not until He Tian had come along and offered him a taste of freedom.
Guan Shan snagged his boss by the open collar of his ridiculously priced shirt—Guan Shan would know; He Tian delegated much of his personal transactions to his executive secretary to authorise—and pulled him down so they were lying side by side. He Tian started kissing him, slow. Small pecks that barely tasted of anything. When Guan Shan tried to deepen their kiss, He Tian dodged, and came right back in to nuzzle the underside of Guan Shan’s jaw and press hot-mouthed imprints along the length of his neck. He felt the pinch of He Tian’s teeth at the juncture of his shoulder and neck, brief, before He Tian sucked the bite into a searing bruise that had Guan Shan groaning and gasping for more.
A sure, firm hand hoisted his leg up and over He Tian’s hip, before slinking over the curve of Guan Shan’s ass.
Yesyesyes.
Warm, oil-slick fingers traced a path down his cleft, circling his hole with air-light strokes. They rubbed into the soft skin of his taint, soothing, swirling motions that made Guan Shan’s cock swell. They then fondled his balls, the oil drifting in lazy rivulets over his sack and down his thigh.
The rich-man lube was going to be a bitch to get out of the sheets. And Guan Shan couldn’t find it in himself to give a fuck.
“Put ’em inside me,” he urged. And yelped when a wide palm landed with a rude, punishing smack against his ass.
“Stop trying to top from the bottom,” He Tian grit out.
Guan Shan buried his face in the crook of a brawny neck, basking in the scents of Amber Aoud and He Tian’s musk. “Sorry.” Except he wasn’t the least bit fucking sorry. He was horny as all hell. “Please, sir, put them inside me.”
And He Tian did.
The slow sting of being breached was short-lived, and Guan Shan could feel He Tian’s long finger slipping inside him, working in and out, leisurely, like they had all the fucking time in the world. But Guan Shan stilled his tongue and instead focused on the sensation of being finger-fucked, particularly enjoying the stretch when He Tian’s second knuckle—thick, squared—pushed past the tight ring of muscle. By the time He Tian had worked a second finger in, Guan Shan’s cock was throbbing. He knew there’d be hell to pay if he started rutting against He Tian, trying to find some friction, so he distracted himself by palming his boss’s pecs. Firm, sturdy pecs that were unfairly sheathed in a layer of downy cotton.
Guan Shan was looking forward to watching them bounce when He Tian fucked him into oblivion.
“What are you doing?”
Blinking away the image of He Tian’s sweaty tits, Guan Shan looked up. “What?”
“Are you trying to help? Because you’re just getting in the way.” He Tian’s frustration leaked through his voice, breath hot against the side of Guan Shan’s face. “Take them out. Now.”
It was then that Guan Shan realised he had slid two of his own slim fingers in alongside He Tian’s. In the tight space, they were all tangled together, uncoordinated.
But He Tian’s frustration set Guan Shan’s off. “I’m not trying to help,” he spat, irked. “I’m trying to feel full which, you know, your dick could really help with if you’d just whip it the fuck out.”
There was a tense pause, a stare-down Guan Shan knew he had no chance of winning but stubbornly refused to back down anyway. He lost himself a little in the embers of He Tian’s stormy eyes, dark, sooty lashes casting brooding shadows, irises svelte rings in the night light.
“Be good,” He Tian murmured, planting a kiss on Guan Shan’s temple. “And wrap your arms around my waist.” The affection melted away Guan Shan’s resolve, and he drew his fingers out. Naturally, as soon as his arms circled a wonderfully tapered torso, He Tian whispered, “Behave.”
The bangles hummed with the force of attraction, snapping together. Guan Shan rested his restrained hands against the small of He Tian’s back. And pouted.
But not for long.
Three fingers in, He Tian’s thrusts gradually picked up speed, the oil allowing for slick, swift movements. Guan Shan threw his head back when they curled, pegging his prostate. And when He Tian’s thumb pressed up against his perineum, nudging in time with the thrust of agile fingers, electric tingles shot up to the head of his cock. His leaking, aching cock.
“I wanna cum,” he begged.
“Do it.”
“Touch me,” Guan Shan rasped. “Touch my dick. I... can’t otherwise.”
“Yes, you can,” He Tian countered, his voice a sexy rumble against the base of Guan Shan’s neck. A deep, throaty rumble that Guan Shan felt all the way in his taut nipples.
But Guan Shan knew he couldn’t. He’d never been able to cum without working his cock.
His boss, though, didn’t get where he was today by being anything but relentless.
He continued to assault Guan Shan’s p-spot, tapping faster, harder, thumb pressing deep. And then he was kissing Guan Shan—bruising, bristling—tongue-fucking his mouth and finger-fucking his ass.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” He Tian grunted and the warmth building in Guan Shan’s groin turned to liquid, racing up his spine and drawing his balls impossibly tight.
He came with an arch of his back, a glittering release and a high-pitched cry that sounded nothing like him. He felt like a star going supernova.
He clung to He Tian as he came down from his high, slight shudders rocking through him.
“Fuck, that was amazing,” he slurred.
“Yes.” He Tian kissed the corner of his mouth. Once. Twice. “Yes, it was. Absolutely stunning.”
Then Guan Shan felt the slight twitch of He Tian’s fingers still stuffed inside him. He tried to shift so that they would slide out, but his boss didn’t take the hint. In fact, He Tian slowly turned his wrist, and his fingers swept lightly along the sensitive bundle of nerves inside Guan Shan.
Grimacing, Guan Shan tried to pull off. “Take ’em out.”
“Put them in, take them out.” He Tian tsked, the bewitching smile on his face taking the bite out of his words. “You’re very demanding tonight.”
“I’ve been good.”
“My hairstylist would beg to differ.”
Rolling his lower lip into his mouth—and wincing because He Tian had bitten it good—Guan Shan tried again, “I’ll be good. I’ll even wash the cum stains out of your shirt.”
They both glanced down at He Tian’s chest, the white cotton damp with Guan Shan’s spunk.
“Damn right you will,” He Tian grumbled. “Now let me check you over.”
He withdrew his fingers and Guan Shan hissed a little, surprised that he felt bereft without the fullness. Once the bangles separated with a “good boy”, He Tian had Guan Shan on his back again, a pillow wedged under his ass, legs splayed.
Guan Shan groused, “I’m fine. You weren’t even that rough.”
“You’re a little puffy, pink. But no tears.” Gently, He Tian prodded around his hole. “Checking helps me judge how much more you can take.”
Cheeks heating up, Guan Shan mentally kicked himself for forgetting that He Tian hadn’t cum yet. “I could suck you off,” he offered. “I don’t think my ass is ready for round two yet.”
He Tian pulled back from his inspection, resting on his haunches. “You’re ready when I say you are.”
Guan Shan swallowed an unruly retort. “Yes, sir.”
“And, anyway,” He Tian added, “I think I would prefer to be the one doing the sucking tonight.”
“You would?” Bemused, Guan Shan peered down at his love popsicle, soft and lying limp against his thigh. Despite being recently spent, it gave a valiant twitch at the thought of being blown by the CEO of one of the wealthiest corporations on the continent. “I think the little guy would prefer it too.”
With a tempered eyeroll and a smirk tantalising his lips, He Tian began unfastening the rest of the buttons on his dress shirt. He was perfunctory about it, and if Guan Shan was hoping for some sort of striptease, he would have been disappointed. He was not, however, dissatisfied in the least by the show of powerful sinew bunching and rippling, biceps that curved for days and abs that popped for miles. Guan Shan’s favourite, though, was He Tian’s pecs: The swell of dense muscle sculpted by sweat and strength, nipples that were duskier and smaller than his own, and the deep, fanlike cleavage that would serve no purpose other than being Guan Shan’s personal cum gutter.
“My eyes are up here, love.”
Guan Shan’s gaze snapped up. He quirked a brow at the smug look on He Tian’s face. “Yeah, I can see you’re very offended.”
“Why is it that every other sentence that comes out of your mouth begs for a raw spanking?”
Guan Shan shrugged. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.”
“Oh, let me assure you.” He Tian tossed his shirt to the side, eyes dark with desire. “I won’t be through with you till I’ve had you every way I want. Twice. And then in reverse order. And thrice again to be absolutely sure.”
Guan Shan’s charmed snicker turned sharply into a gasp when He Tian mouthed at his cockhead; it was still too sensitive. He allowed himself a whimper—deep-throated because he wasn’t a pussy—and let He Tian continue. Tonguing his ridge, slit and the sensitive vein running along the underside of his shaft, He Tian kept his ministrations light-touched, a careful caress. When Guan Shan felt himself plumping up under the unhurried attention, he ran a hand through He Tian’s tousled locks, urging him to ramp it up.
And he did.
Working him with tongue and a rumour of teeth, He Tian swallowed him down to the base, sucking hard enough that Guan Shan thought he might disappear down his boss’s throat. He raked his fingers through He Tian’s hair, tugging, trying to take control. But He Tian gripped Guan Shan’s quads, fingers digging in harshly and making Guan Shan cry out. Relenting, Guan Shan let go of He Tian’s head and instead tried canting his hips, slowly thrusting in and out of that sinfully hot mouth.
Slowly. And then not so slow.
He Tian pulled off with a lewd, wet pop. Brows a thunderhead, he glowered, his swollen, deep-red lips seaming in a puffy frown. “You, my love, have been a very bad boy.”
His voice, roughened by a dark-edged burr, made a threat of his words and sent a chill down Guan Shan’s spine—a delightful chill that ended in a sublime spark at the crown of his cock.
Before Guan Shan could spew an apology, something stiff and well-greased poked at his hole. He attempted to squirm away but He Tian locked a thick arm across his waist.
“What is that?” Guan Shan shrieked, trying and failing to wriggle out of He Tian’s steel grip.
“Rich-man’s lube happens to double as a butt plug,” He Tian replied. “Stay still. It won’t bite.”
“I knew it! I fucking knew you had a sex toy in there.”
They grappled; Guan Shan’s pitiful efforts to dislodge He Tian’s arm did nothing but tire him out. The vial—which, when turned upside down with the flared cap screwed securely in place, certainly looked like a butt plug—slid smoothly into Guan Shan’s ass. Still raw from earlier, the intrusion stung and made his eyes water.
But He Tian wasn’t done.
He moved up Guan Shan’s body, bracketing Guan Shan’s thighs with his knees and bracing a forearm above Guan Shan’s head.
“Hi,” Guan Shan quipped when they were eye-to-eye, noses barely inches apart. He flashed a disarming smile, hoping to distract He Tian from whatever punishment he had in mind.
It didn’t work.
Of course it fucking didn't.
A well-oiled hand with an unforgiving grasp fisted his hard-on, setting a furious pace that had Guan Shan’s toes curling and his breath quivering. He Tian’s wrist rolled roughly on the upstroke, rubbing oil and sweat and precum over Guan Shan’s shaft on the downstroke. Again and again and again.
Ah, sweet fuck. His cock was on fire.
“How sorry are you?” He Tian barked.
“Mmsososorry—” Guan Shan’s wail stuttered into a sob when He Tian flicked his frenulum.
“Not good enough.”
Lips of silk and flame collided with his own—demanding, claiming, destroying the last of Guan Shan’s control over his body. The sweet torture of deep-bruising kisses, the uncomfortable sting in his ass, and the glorious agony engulfing his dick; the combination caused Guan Shan’s vision to white out. And when He Tian plunged the side of his thumb into Guan Shan’s slit, his entire body went taut. He climaxed with a choked gasp, balls aching from the force of it, nails clawing at He Tian’s musclebound back. A short sputter of cum landed like hot, searing wax on his stomach.
He panted into He Tian’s mouth, heart pounding a rhythm of truth: this man was made for him.
Mercifully, He Tian released Guan Shan’s tormented prick. Coaxed the butt plug out. Propped him up with some pillows.
After he helped Guan Shan down a glassful of lemonade, He Tian wiped him down with a cool, damp flannel. The blessedly chilled wetness left a trail of goosebumps in its wake, and Guan Shan shivered a little. He curled into He Tian, who hugged him close and shared his warmth.
“That was cruel,” Guan Shan said, scowling when the words came out as little more than a croak.
He Tian hummed. “You loved it.”
“I did.” Guan Shan nuzzled closer and He Tian manoeuvred them both so they were under the sheets.
They cuddled, He Tian sketching an invisible path up and down Guan Shan’s back with feather-light sweeps that mapped out their serenity. As their breathing slowly evened out, harmonising, Guan Shan threaded his jelly legs through He Tian’s, fine wool chafing against his skin.
“Why don’t you take your pants off?”
Remarkably, He Tian complied without rebuking Guan Shan for the lack of respectful address. With the clunk of a belt unbuckling, the metallic purr of a zipper parting, and the susurration of fabric let loose, He Tian eased out of both his tux pants and black boxer briefs. His gorgeous cock was rock-hard, slanting slightly to the left, its head a purpling treat.
Guan Shan eyed the wet-dewed slit—remembering the distinctive taste, the silken feel of loose foreskin—and unconsciously licked his lips.
“You want it inside you, don’t you?” He Tian stretched out on his back, thighs limber, scrotum drawn tight around hefty balls. He deliberately scratched at the neatly groomed pubes at the base of his shaft, making his dick sway enticingly.
Guan Shan’s raw ass clenched painfully in anticipation.
“Shut up.” Mouth drying up, he swatted at He Tian’s chest, then groaned,“Yes.”
He Tian’s chuckle was honey and gravel and hellfire on Guan Shan’s over-sensitised cockhead. He kissed Guan Shan’s sullen pout, the paradox of his mouth sufficient enough to divert Guan Shan’s attention from the fact that his arms were being bound behind his back.
“No,” Guan Shan screamed, yanking at his wrists in vain. “I’ll be good, sir. I’ll be so good.”
“A good boy keeps his mouth shut,” He Tian thundered, tossing Guan Shan onto his front. “And a good slut keeps his head down and his ass up.”
Sweet mother of fuck, have mercy.
֍ ֍ ֍
Dawn came with a special kind of hell.
Splashes of peach, plum and cherry-red painted the room in the colours of daybreak, pale sunlight gilding the sharp lines of furniture and the soft swerves of the occupants sprawled on the bed.
Warm scents and warm impressions; Guan Shan awoke to a cosy embrace, tucked into He Tian’s side, head resting on his shoulder.
Everything hurt.
Everything.
From the bruises staining his collarbones and inner thighs, to the burning throb between his ass cheeks, the stinging bitemarks around his nipples and the prickling ache where his cockhead should have been.
“Motherfucker.”
“What was that?” He Tian drawled, voice deep with slumber, lilting with a smile. He shifted so they were face-to-face, expression lax and dreamy. “Good morning.” He leaned in for a kiss, a light brush of lips.
Fuck, even Guan Shan's mouth was sore.
He took He Tian’s hand, directed it to the delicate chain around his neck. With a small nod, He Tian unclasped the necklace. It tickled Guan Shan’s skin as it came undone and He Tian deftly caught the ring that coasted off. In a practised movement, he slid the engagement band onto Guan Shan’s finger, the infinity engraving an echo of the one on his own hand.
With the platinum ring back exactly where it ought to be, He Tian pressed a kiss over it.
“Just you,” he promised.
A smile tugged at the corners of Guan Shan’s lips as he felt something click in place. “Just you, too.”
He Tian’s face lit up and he waggled a brow. “That play was wild,” he snickered, the refined accent giving way to his usual, laid back inflexions.
“I think you were having a little too much fun.”
“You know I can’t help myself around you, especially when you’re all ‘yes sir, no sir’. It drives me crazy.” He Tian pulled Guan Shan close, pecked his nose. “Plus, you’ve got an ass that won’t quit. I had zero chance of coming out of this with my gentleman card intact.”
Guan Shan laughed, playfully pinching his fiancé’s nipple. “Dork.”
With a roguish growl, He Tian caught Guan Shan’s lips in a kiss. It started off slow, gentle, but soon grew heated and handsy. When it continued long past the point they should have come up for air, Guan Shan pulled back; he didn’t want to inadvertently invite another round of sex.
He might just cry.
“Breakfast first, then spa?” He Tian suggested, resting his palms possessively over Guan Shan’s ass.
“Coffee first. Then I need to go into the office.”
“What? It’s the fucking weekend, Shan.”
Guan Shan sat up with a wince. “Your business doesn’t run itself. I literally have a million and one things to do.”
“See, the best part about being the executive secretary is that you have minions to delegate shit to.” Looking like a fucking swimsuit model, He Tian folded his arms behind his head with a mesmerising ripple of muscle. “I know it’s only been two weeks, but what do you think so far? Is it weird working for the company?”
“Why? Because I don’t understand half the shit that gets discussed in your meetings?”
“No.” Fondly, He Tian rolled his eyes. “Because you work for me and I'm marrying your ass next spring.”
Guan Shan shrugged. He didn’t want to admit that it was weird. The first hurdle had been going public with their relationship—which they’d been forced to do mid-acquisition after they were papped walking out of a restaurant together. With He Cheng running interference, the blowback had been contained, although there were still plenty of critics sceptical about the aggressive nature of the She & Co. takeover. And now that Guan Shan had been hired as exec sec, he found that he was having to constantly prove himself, prove that he was worthy of the position, that he was more than just the CEO’s love interest.
They’d both known it wouldn’t be easy. But was it worth it?
“It isn’t weird, Tian,” Guan Shan finally said, lacing their fingers together. “Although, the power dynamics can be... distracting sometimes.”
He Tian grinned like a panther that had caught its prey.
Hell yeah it was worth it.