He’d gained a monkish reputation among his men for working longer hours than most of his counterparts. All work and no play for Victor Zhang. Phantom, Han, and most of their men had to blow off steam with alcohol, drugs, and sexual release. Victor never felt such desires.

It was like the flesh between his legs didn’t exist. Only with Dawn.

Victor reached out a hand to touch her, to trail a hand over her alluring skin. He only just managed to catch himself before he did. This was precisely why he had to stay away. He was her owner. She was his prisoner.

But in moments like this, it felt like the other way around.

With an angry grunt, he rose from the bed, determined to remove himself from her spell.

After putting on his clothes, he searched her drawer. He found what he was looking for in her nightstand beside an instrument he could only assume was some kind of vibrator. Another urge flashed through him. To use it on her. To watch her fall apart again and again as he had last night.

But it’s May 26th. Time to return to your world, the voice of reason reminded him.

He swiftly extracted the object he’d been looking for and closed the drawer. Then he wrote out a message on a piece of scratch paper from his notepad and set the item down on top of it.

After that task was done, he looked over at her again. Not because he wanted to, but because he had to. Not looking at her when they were in the same room together was like trying to hold your breath underwater. Four… Six minutes tops. That was all he’d ever been able to manage.

And this time, he couldn’t stop himself from running the back of his hand over her cheek. She let out a contented mew and nuzzled her face into his knuckles.

One murmur from her was all it took for him to become fully hard again. As if the last four times never occurred.

He didn’t climb back into the bed and cover her with his body as he wanted to, however. With one last look at her sleeping form over his shoulder, he forced himself out of the room.

Next year will be better. He promised himself this as he left her prison. Next year, I’ll be able to resist coming to her.

* * *

He’d forgotten to plug in his phone, and it had died over the course of the night. The screen filled up with messages as soon as he attached it to the USB cord in his Audi. Most of them were from Han, one of the few people who had this number. But there were also a few from Phantom. And his cousin’s messages particularly stood out.

“Where the fuck are you??? Kuang wants a meeting.”