Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Naomi's eyes widened, and she swallowed hard, lips slightly parted. Whether she was imagining a palace of hellfire and obsidian… or just the size of his bed in said palace, Lux couldn't be sure. But he was very aware of the temperature spike in the air.

Still, before that moment could melt into something entirely unfit for the housewarming party, the sound of heels clicking at mortal-inappropriate speed echoed from the hallway.

Rava.

She rounded the corner in a blur of seafoam green and shimmering mischief, tentacle-tipped hair bouncing with every step. Her smile could've powered a small kingdom.

"Lux!" she beamed. "How do I look?"

She twirled on one heel, the hem of her satiny sundress flaring out dangerously high for a "casual mortal event." Thin straps. Bare shoulders. A tasteful but aggressively flirty slit climbing up her thigh like a stock price after market manipulation.

Lux blinked.

Then choked a little.

"…Fabulous," he managed, voice about half an octave too low.

[Your incubus pheromones have risen by 21%.]

'Damn it! Stop raising!' he thought.

[Your mind, sir. Not me.]

'Yeah… that's the problem.'

Because all the dresses looked casual.

The atmosphere was meant to be casual.

The drinks, the lighting, the soft music playing on loop—it was all casual.

But Lux's mind?

Very much not casual.

His brain was firing off scenarios like a malfunctioning smut fantasy algorithm. The kind that came with internal captions like "estimated duration: 3.4 hours, positions rotated: 9, maximum satisfaction bonuses unlocked."

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to stand straight. Gentleman mode, on.

Rava's smile faded slightly as she stepped closer. "What happened?" she asked, reaching up and resting her cool hand on his cheek. "You look… weird."

Lux smiled. It was definitely forced. "Uh… I'm good."

He wasn't.

Not when his brain was trying to calculate the ROI of bending her over the canapé table before guests arrived.

He turned, desperate to reset his mind like a broken spreadsheet—

Only to stop short.

Because there she was.

Sira.

Descending the stairs like sin wrapped in silk. Black heels. Deep crimson dress. Low neckline. Long slit. No sleeves. Gold accent jewelry draped casually around her neck like she owned the very concept of attention.

And her smirk?

Yeah. It said she knew exactly what this dress was doing.

"Good?" she said as she reached the bottom of the steps. "You look far from good."

[Your incubus pheromones have risen by 32%.]

Lux winced.

This time visibly.

Sira's smirk widened. Naomi blinked at him, concern flashing across her face again. Rava just tilted her head like she was trying to decide if she should comfort him or seduce him. Possibly both.

Lux raised his hands, surrendering to the chaos. "Okay," he said, voice strained. "Tonight is supposed to be casual. That's the dress code."

Sira cocked a brow and gestured down at her gown. "This is casual."

Lux stared at her. "How is that casual? That's… that's mortgage-default sexy. That's limited-stock-IPO sexy. That's insider-trading-in-a-bathtub sexy."

She stepped forward, leaned in, and whispered, "Your mom dresses sexier than this."

That shut him up.

Hard.

Because, unfortunately, it was true.

His mother—The Lady of Lust—didn't own a dress with more than three inches of fabric. Her casualwear could get her banned from three continents and invited to four demon summoning circles simultaneously. That was the reason why they kept fucking wherever and whenever they could.

Lux groaned, covering his face. "That's not a defense."

"It's genetic," Sira said innocently. "We're just built like this."

Naomi coughed delicately behind him. "Should I… change?"

Lux dropped his hands and looked at her.

"No," he said, tone softening instantly. "You look incredible. If anyone here's overdressed, it's me."

Rava laughed. "You look like a hot sugar daddy trying to blend in at a college reunion."

"I am trying to blend in," Lux muttered. "I told you—casual. This isn't an orgy."

"Yet," Sira added, sipping from a glass that hadn't existed five seconds ago. "We'll see how the wine flows."

Lux pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why did I think I could throw a normal mortal party?"

[Your pheromone levels are stable—for now.]

'Yeah, because I'm holding back the economy of hell from exploding out of my pants.'

Naomi stepped closer, her arm looping through his. "You're doing fine," she whispered. "You're the picture of control."

He smiled at her.

And then at Rava.

And then—at Sira, who gave him a wink that felt like a contract offer with seven hidden clauses and a bite mark.

"Alright," Lux exhaled. "Let's greet our guests. Pretend we're functional. Try not to scare the guests."

Naomi gave a dainty nod.

Rava snapped her fingers and three tentacles coiled her hair into a sleek braid in seconds.

Sira drained her glass in one go and said, "Lead the way, darling."

Lux adjusted his collar, straightened his jacket, and strode forward like a man about to host a perfectly normal, totally boring, absolutely not cursed party.

But in the back of his mind?

His Greed was purring.

His Lust was growling.

And his self-control?

…Was probably hiding under the buffet table praying no one touched the shrimp.

And then—

The intercom buzzed to life.

Fenrir's voice crackled through the polished brass wall speaker like a refined hellhound wearing a tuxedo.

"Sir. First guest has arrived. Miss Vireleth."

Rava's ears twitched. "Ooh, Ely's here!"

Lux nodded, already moving toward the foyer. "I'll escort her. You guys enjoy the food and drinks."

He turned at the hallway threshold, pointing two fingers—playfully, but warm.

"Especially both of you." His gaze lingered on Rava and Naomi. "You worked hard today."

Naomi gave a soft smile, eyes low. "You noticed."

"I notice everything," he said with a wink.

Sira tilted her head. "And me?"

Lux looked at her, the smirk coming slow. "You too. Please enjoy yourself. You worked hard."

A pause.

"—On the bed. With me."

Sira rolled her eyes and flicked a finger toward him, a faint pulse of pride magic snapping his sleeve in retaliation.

"Behave," she said.

"Never," he muttered, already walking away.