Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Lux poured himself into the seat across from her, posture relaxed but alert. "Yes. There was supposed to be one more."

"Fiera?" Rava piped up from the couch, holding a glass of pale rosé and nibbling on some cheese bread.

Lux nodded. "She said she couldn't come."

"She what?" Mira asked, surprised.

"She said she'd send someone else instead," Lux added, reaching into his pocket and casually flicking his phone into his palm. "Here."

He turned the screen toward her.

A simple message, timestamped, unmistakably from Fiera's number.

Mira's frown was immediate. "Wait a second. She said that?"

Lux nodded. "Yes. That's exactly how she replied. No fluff. No follow-up."

Naomi leaned in from beside Rava. "But that's… her number."

Rava frowned. "It's weird. Fiera's always direct, yeah. But not this vague."

Mira took the phone from Lux's hand, scanning it again. "It's fishy. Fiera doesn't do delegation. If she's busy, she says no. If she's coming, she says yes. There's no middle ground."

Ely, who had been quiet next to Naomi, tilted her head. "But she has been busy, right? That runway show went viral. She's probably swimming in orders."

Mira handed the phone back to Lux, but her eyes were shadowed with thought. "Sure. But even when she's busy, she doesn't send replacements. She's not a politician. She's a control freak with a label."

"And she doesn't let anyone represent her voice without a contract," Naomi added.

"That too," Mira agreed.

Rava sipped her drink, gaze thoughtful. "Maybe she's testing something."

"Or someone," Mira said under her breath.

Lux leaned back, phone resting on his knee, fingers drumming lightly against the case. "Well, whoever she's sending hasn't arrived yet."

He looked at Mira. "You worried?"

"I'm curious," she replied. "Fiera doesn't play games with her name. If someone else has her number—either she gave it willingly… or something's wrong."

Naomi frowned. "You think she's in trouble?"

"I think," Mira said, eyes flicking toward Sira—who was currently lounging with a wine glass and not even pretending to care—"we should be aware that things are shifting."

Sira, of course, smiled at the tension like she was sipping on a brand-new IPO with unlimited returns.

"Relax," she said. "Whoever shows up, we'll handle it. This is Lux's house."

Lux gave her a look. "You saying that like it guarantees safety or chaos."

Sira shrugged. "Both."

The room was quiet for a beat.

The tea was brought in—five cups, steam rising from ceramic as elegant as anything east of Heaven. The scent was sharp. Clean. Green leaves kissed with mana. Strength and clarity brewed into one.

Mira raised her cup, studying the tea with quiet reverence. "Try this," she said. "You'll feel your blood balance."

Naomi sipped first and blinked. "Whoa. That's…"

"Clean," Ely murmured. "But it burns just a little. I like it."

Rava pouted. "I don't like things that don't sparkle."

"You're drinking tea, not magic," Lux muttered.

Rava lifted her glass. "Magic of leaves. I'm loyal."

Mira chuckled. "You're loyal to drama."

"And snacks," Rava added.

Lux finally took a sip.

And damn.

She wasn't lying. It cut through the lust-fog like a sword of clarity. Still warm. Still subtle. But behind it? Mana. Perfectly tempered. Just enough to make him blink twice and feel his control re-solidify.

He set the cup down, exhaled slowly.

"…You're trying to rewire my brain."

"Call it a gift," Mira said smoothly.

Lux gave her a long look.

And then smiled.

"Thanks," he said. "I needed it."

Because yeah. He did.

Meanwhile, Aelitha Ninevyn adjusted the hem of her high-slit crimson gown for the third time and smoothed the sleek waves of her honey-colored hair, glossy and freshly curled. The scent of foxglove and high-end perfume clung to her skin—intoxicating but sharp, like a warning to any woman who dared step in her lane. The scent of ambition.

She stared at her reflection in the tinted car window as the city lights dimmed behind her, replaced by the looming walls of a private residential district—one that didn't belong to just anyone.

No, this was Carson's former stronghold.

Or, more accurately—what used to be. The man had gone bankrupt faster than a meme stock crash on Judgment Day. She'd watched the financial scandal unfold with popcorn in hand. It was delicious. The ex-boyfriend of Naomi, humiliated and gutted out of his own estate. Apparently, demons didn't need to swing swords anymore—just liquidation papers.

And now?

The mansion had been bought. Quietly. Swiftly. No press release. No gala. But everyone in the inner circle whispered the same thing.

Lux Vaelthorn.

A name that had gone from a curiosity to a market-altering headline overnight. One runway. One suit. One woman—Fiera—whose sales chart spiked so hard it gave Aelitha acid reflux.

She clicked her tongue.

But tonight?

Tonight would be different.

Her.

Lux.

And a custom-designed suit that outclassed Fiera's by at least three basis points in cut, five in swagger, and ten in raw seductive ROI.

Her phone was at 100%. Full battery. Front and back camera lenses wiped clean. She planned to document everything.

Lux's reaction when he saw her.

Lux wearing her suit.

Lux laughing—ideally—with her, not at her.

Lux choosing her designs as "what he actually wears day-to-day."

She already had the caption saved in drafts.

"Modeling is marketing. Comfort is commitment. Guess who the man actually chooses to wear off-camera? "

This post alone would trigger a dozen new client contracts and five copycat brands overnight. She'd heard Lux was a bit cold—reclusive even—but he was also new in city.

Unmarried.

And clearly someone who appreciated good taste.

She smirked.

"I'll make him smile. And then I'll make him wear me."

Her driver coughed awkwardly in the front seat.

"Everything okay, Miss Ninevyn?" he asked.

"I'm fine. Just manifesting my quarterly goals."

They rounded the final turn, and her eyes widened slightly.

Damn.

She'd never heard rumors that Lux had "renovated" the mansion, but this—this was insane.

Black marble walls stood clean and menacing under the streetlights, etched with glowing silver runes. Palm trees swayed along the perimeter like they'd been programmed to flirt. Fog curled around the base of the driveway, too perfect to be natural. It was like the mist had been set to luxury mode.

Even the security camera blinked like it had expensive opinions.