Was the car temperature set too low? Li An rubbed his arms and adjusted the heating higher.
Stealing a glance at the CEO through the rearview mirror—expressionless, unreadable as always.
"Li An." An icy voice cut through the cabin.
"Y-yes?"
Responding reflexively, Li An finally noticed the CEO's gaze—ferocious, though whether directed at him or...
"Sir, I'll have it investigated immediately." A competent assistant wouldn't ask for instructions but act proactively.
Xuan Mohan closed his eyes, feigning rest. Only he knew it was to conceal the storm inside. For someone who'd mastered emotional control since childhood, this loss of composure was unprecedented.
Yet... he couldn't help it. A murderous rage simmered beneath his skin at the thought of *her* smiling so brightly for another man—that adoring gaze that should've been *his alone*.
The corner of his lips curled into a bloodthirsty arc as his fist smashed against the bulletproof window, cracking the high-density composite material.
Li An's jaw dropped. In all his years, he'd never seen the CEO this unhinged. After hurriedly finishing his call, he gripped the wheel with white-knuckled focus.
If ordinary days permitted 1-2% margin for error, today demanded *perfection*.
*Miss Lan, whatever you're doing—please stop!* Li An internally wailed. In his view, rejecting the CEO wasn't foolish—it was *suicidal*. Though he'd never voice it, not even in thoughts. Professional caution? No, just self-preservation!
The black Rolls-Royce shadowed the white sedan ahead at a discreet distance—no orders needed. Li An prided himself on understanding the CEO better than even Miss Lan herself!
...Was that jealousy talking?
Xuan Mohan paid no mind to his assistant's mental theatrics. His thoughts churned with images of Lan Qianqian in that car. Worried she might be upset, he'd come at dawn bearing her favorite breakfast, the insulated box still cradled against his chest.
Even as their vehicle parked, his grip remained—until the rival driver emerged, circling to open *her* door with protective courtesy. The lunchbox crumpled in his grasp.
"Thank you, senior." Lan Qianqian's voice carried renewed cheer after their conversation.
The man smiled warmly. "Since when do you stand on ceremony with me? Feeling better now?"
"Much. See you at lunch?" She turned to leave.
"Wait—"
Before she could react, he'd stepped close, thumb brushing her lip with affectionate familiarity. "All set."
Flushing crimson, Lan Qianqian mumbled thanks before fleeing inside. *How embarrassing—food stains at her age!*
The senior's chuckle followed her.
*Drip. Drip.*
Li An's eyes darted until they landed on the source. "Sir! The soup—" The CEO's custom suit and leather seats were ruined.
A glacial glare silenced him.
When Xuan Mohan finally moved, he discarded the deformed container with lethal calm. Li An's heart wept—*that cost more than my monthly salary!*
CEO Office
Changed into another black suit (goodbye, this morning's bright tie—the monochrome palette now screamed *danger*), Xuan Mohan faced the delivered dossier.
He took the file but didn't open it, instead walking to the floor-to-ceiling windows where dawn's fingers crept across the skyline. Beautiful. Like *her* that first day...
Normally, he'd finish such documents in sixty seconds. Today, his pace matched the sun's sluggish ascent.
"Come up."
His command through the phone held the usual deep timbre—just utterly devoid of inflection.
Distracted by design drafts, Lan Qianqian answered absently before freezing. *He's at the office already?*
"I'm working. Is it urgent?"
*Click.*
She stared at the disconnected call. *Odd.* Shrugging, she returned to her sketches—until the door exploded inward.
Xuan Mohan crossed the room in strides as she frantically checked for witnesses. Only when confirming they were alone did she relax.
*Hah.* So *he* had to sneak around while that *senior* paraded her to the entrance?
Without preamble, he hauled her into a searing kiss—rough, possessive, as if trying to fuse their bodies together. Only when she gasped for air did he relent... before claiming her lips again.
After several rounds, Lan Qianqian pushed back. The resistance ignited something feral in his eyes. Pinning her wrists behind her back, he bit down hard on her lower lip until copper flooded their mouths.
"Mm—!" She wrenched free. "What's *wrong* with you?"
This version of Xuan Mohan was rare enough to temper her anger with concern.
Meeting her clear, guileless gaze, the tempest in his eyes stilled. Gently, he traced the injured lip. "Did I hurt you?"
She shook her head. "Did something happen?"
"Nothing." The mask slid back into place. "I missed you."
*We saw each other yesterday!* Baffled but amused, she nudged him toward the door. "You've seen me now. Work starts soon—"
*Dismissing him?* The urge to brand her as *his* before the world nearly won.
...But she'd recovered. Time to fast-track their wedding.
"Leave early for lunch." The stiff command came as he turned away, bitterness curdling his tongue at her secrecy.
Then—
A small hand caught his sleeve.
Damn it all. That simple touch unraveled him. When he looked back, his eyes had softened despite himself.