Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Fiera clung to his shoulder like a ghost of herself. "I didn't mean to—"

"I know."

"I'm not weak."

"No, you're not."

"I still want to sleep with you."

Lux smiled faintly. "When you're sober, remember that. Then decide again."

He carried her out with no effort, just long strides and a calm heart rate that belied the heat she left on his skin.

The others were silent until he disappeared down the hall.

Naomi finally exhaled. "That was… intense."

"She nearly stripped him at the table," Ely whispered.

"I kinda wanted to see how far she'd go," Rava said cheerfully, returning with another drink. "She was like watching a trainwreck made of lipstick and unprocessed trauma."

Sira shrugged. "She'll thank him tomorrow."

"She better," Naomi muttered.

Mira stood. "I'm getting some air."

"You okay?" Ely asked.

"Yeah," she said. "Just… thinking."

She stepped out onto the terrace, the night air cool against her skin. Stars glittered above like stock tickers in a dark sky, twinkling promises and probabilities. Somewhere in the distance, the city glowed, unaware of the drama unfolding inside one luxury mansion.

Mira exhaled.

Because no matter how much she told herself she was immune…

Watching him?

Hearing him say that?

The part about remembering the first time. About wanting it to matter.

It hit something.

Not lust.

Not envy.

Something more dangerous.

Longing.

Behind her, the house continued its rhythm—music humming low, voices softening, someone laughing.

Mira stood still on the terrace, arms crossed under her chest, watching the glimmering skyline like it owed her answers. Her heels clicked faintly against the polished marble, but she didn't pace.

She just breathed.

Slow. Even. Controlled.

Like always.

But her thoughts? Her thoughts were not under control.

Lux Vaelthorn was a demon. A literal incubus. She had no excuse not to treat him like a walking scandal wrapped in sin and silk. And yet—

That moment earlier. When he told Fiera she could sleep with him only when she could remember it. When she could truly feel it.

It didn't add up.

If Lux had been anyone else—if he'd been one of the jackals that stalked every gala, every boardroom, every curated hallway of power—he'd have taken the opportunity. Slept with Fiera. Let her drown in the guilt after. Let it become a secret she carried while pretending it was her idea.

But he didn't.

He'd held her gently. Spoken calmly. Then carried her to bed like she was something to protect.

A demon shouldn't have that much restraint. Shouldn't look that good in self-control.

So what the hell was wrong with him?

What the hell was wrong with her?

"I brought wine," a voice purred behind her.

Mira turned. Of course.

Sira.

She floated into view like temptation personified, long legs bare under her silk wrap, her lips painted like murder and her eyes gleaming with old secrets. She handed a crystal glass to Mira with casual grace.

Mira hesitated, then took it. "Thanks. But… I think I've hit my limit. I'd rather have tea."

Sira tilted her head in that feline way. "Mm. Boring, but classy." She turned slightly and gestured with one finger toward the hallway.

A servant appeared from somewhere—too fast, too quiet—and bowed. "Yes, my lady?"

"Chamomile. Rooibos. And whatever she's having," Sira said, waving at Mira.

"Something floral," Mira added.

The servant vanished like a well-trained ghost.

Sira took a sip of her wine and leaned against the balustrade. "You're interesting."

Mira's brow twitched. "That's not usually the first thing women like you say to me."

Sira grinned, unbothered. "You're proud. Like me. You don't smell like the other mortals."

"…Smell?"

"Don't worry. It's not bad. You smell like resistance. Arrogance. Clean ambition. I like that." Her tone dripped with something between flirtation and genuine respect. "Most mortals either stink of desperation or perfume and lies."

Mira narrowed her eyes. "You're interested in me."

"I am."

"Why?"

"Because you look like someone I'd enjoy breaking over a bottle of wine and a power struggle." Sira took another sip. "And also because I'm bored. But mostly? You're smart. And you're conflicted."

"Conflicted?"

Sira turned to face her now, her voice lower. "It's because of him, isn't it?"

Mira didn't respond immediately.

The silence between them stretched. It wasn't uncomfortable. It was… heavy. Shared. Like two competitors sizing each other up before a final round.

Then finally—softly,

"Yes," Mira said. "It's him. I don't get it."

Sira didn't pretend to be surprised.

Mira exhaled, holding her glass loosely. "He's an incubus. A demon. He said it himself. Pride and Greed in one bloodline. He's literally made for manipulation. For indulgence. He's dangerous."

"Mmhm."

"And yet—he acts better than most mortals I know. Smarter. Kinder. More composed. That Fiera situation?" Mira shook her head. "If that happened anywhere else, it'd be online in thirty seconds. Or worse. Some guy would've slept with her and bragged about it. Lux didn't even let her unbutton him."

"Lux is picky," Sira said with a smirk.

Mira blinked. "Picky?"

"Painfully so." She laughed. "Drives other demons crazy. Incubi are supposed to feed. Sleep around. Ruin things. But Lux?" She rolled her eyes fondly. "He curates his appetite."

Mira stared. "That's… not how that's supposed to work."

"No," Sira said, taking another long sip, "but nothing about Lux works how it's supposed to."

"I don't get him," Mira murmured.

"I know."

"I want to."

Sira gave her a knowing look. "Dangerous thing to want."

Mira tilted her head. "You sound like you've been burned."

Sira chuckled. "I've been everything. Burned. Worshiped. Feared. But Lux…" She trailed off for a moment. Her voice, usually so smug and sharp, softened slightly. "Lux is the kind of danger you walk toward. Even when you know better."

The tea arrived—delicately poured, aromatic steam rising between them. Mira accepted the cup with a quiet thank you. The warmth grounded her, the scent of jasmine and something deeper filling the cool air.

Sira didn't touch hers. She just watched Mira drink.

Then, lazily, she asked, "What would you do if he did want you?"