Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation-Chapter 132: Unholy

Chapter 132 – Unholy

Lux stood in front of the full-length mirror.

And for once in his chaotic, coffee-fueled, supernatural disaster of a life.

He actually paused.

"...Damn," he muttered under his breath, turning just slightly to the side. "That’s illegal."

The suit hugged him like it had been cursed into perfection. Every line sculpted, every seam smooth, every inch tailored for wickedness. It was quiet power. Confidence stitched into form. A whisper that turned heads louder than any shout.

Lux ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face, and watched his reflection smirk back.

He looked better than he did in Hell.

And that wasn’t arrogance talking.

That was objective truth.

Behind him, the thick velvet curtain of the changing room rustled. Fiera had come to check on him—probably to gloat. Or to stress over cufflinks. Or just to see if he broke something.

Instead, she stood frozen in the doorway.

Mouth parted.

Eyes wide.

Tails twitching.

He turned toward her, slow and deliberate, as if time had taken a shot of espresso and decided to watch this moment in HD. His suit flared just slightly as he moved, catching the air like it had its own gravity.

Fiera bit her lip.

Hard.

It wasn’t fair. None of it.

The man was unreal. Tall, broad-shouldered, carved in confidence. His smile was lazy and sharp. His eyes glinted with something unreadable—something older. Deeper. And the way the suit molded to his body? Unholy. It made him look like temptation personified. Very dangerous, very expensive baby.

Her breath caught, and she hated it.

Absolutely hated it.

She cleared her throat. "You... look nice."

Lux tilted his head slightly, gaze flicking down her figure before returning to her face. "You’re biting your lip."

Fiera immediately let go of it.

"You thinking something dangerous, Miss Ninevyn?"

"No," she said, a little too fast. "Just assessing the tailoring."

"Right," he said, voice a little too warm. "Totally about the cuffs."

Fiera stepped inside, eyes still fixed on him like she was worried he’d vanish. Or combust. Or pin her against the wardrobe and make her forget her company had a show in twenty minutes.

Honestly? That last one didn’t sound terrible.

She stopped one step away.

Close enough to feel the heat coming off him.

Close enough to see the faint pulse in his throat.

Her tails twitched again. Betraying her. She hated them.

And then, of course, he leaned in.

Not rudely.

Not forcefully.

Just... leaned.

Like he knew the chaos his presence was causing. Like he could smell the lust hanging in the air.

"I can guess what you’re thinking," Lux murmured. His breath tickled her ear, low and teasing.

She froze.

He wasn’t touching her, but every nerve lit up anyway.

"Don’t you dare," she hissed, voice too breathy to sound threatening.

"Oh, I dare," he said.

His hand reached out—nonchalantly, devilishly—and brushed over the tips of one of her tails.

Fiera shivered.

Visibly.

Her breath hitched, and her foot slipped half a step forward, like her body had betrayed her too.

The tail he touched curled instinctively, then flared like it had been struck by lightning.

"You—" she stammered, cheeks flushing now, heat crawling up her neck. "Just—just sit down. On your seat. Behave."

Lux arched an eyebrow. "That’s no fun."

"Behave," she repeated, jabbing a finger toward the exit, trying very hard to pretend her heart wasn’t drumming like a parade behind her ribs. "Or I will—"

Lux turned his head slightly, smirk deepening. "Will what?"

Fiera hesitated. Blinked.

Damn it, she hadn’t actually thought that far.

"I’ll..." she began, lips parting as if the words might magically appear. "I’ll call security."

He tilted his head. "Security? For brushing a tail?"

"You fondled it," she hissed, scandalized.

"It was a graze," Lux corrected, casually. "A respectful one."

"Respect doesn’t twitch my tail like that," she shot back.

He chuckled low in his throat, deliciously amused. "So you admit it twitched."

Her ears twitched now too. She cursed them silently.

Lux took a step forward again, voice velvet-draped and absolutely inappropriate. "Call security then. Let them walk in and find us in this high-tension standoff. You in that power dress. Me in this suit. Your tails in full betrayal mode. I’m sure it won’t start rumors at all."

Fiera opened her mouth to respond, then immediately shut it.

He had a point. A horrifyingly valid point.

She groaned under her breath, one hand dragging down her face. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re flustered."

"I am not—" she snapped, then stopped herself. Drew a deep, shaky breath. Composed her voice.

"I am professionally invested in you looking decent for a runway walk. That’s all."

Lux raised a brow. "Professionally invested? Cute."

"Out," she said firmly. "Now."

He sighed, but the smirk stayed. "Fine."

But just as he turned to go, he leaned in one more time—this time brushing his fingers just slightly over two more tails.

Fiera shuddered.

Her breath caught like a skipped heartbeat.

The tails flared instantly, one of them wrapping ever so lightly around his wrist before she yanked it back like it had betrayed her deepest secrets.

"You are so lucky this is silk season," she growled.

Lux gave her a wicked grin. "Then I’ll behave. For now. But remember, you don’t own me," Lux whispered, voice deep and velvet-drenched.

He walked out, leaving Fiera blinking in the wake of heat, chaos, and that terrifyingly perfect suit. Her tails curled in tight confusion behind her, her heart nowhere near recovering.

And worst of all?

She wanted him to do it again.

Fiera stood there, staring at the empty space he left behind, the scent of cologne and charm still hanging in the air like a curse. Her tails twitched wildly now, the little traitors. Her body was all flushed warmth and static electricity. And her brain?

Soup.

Absolute soup.

She pressed her hand to her face. "I hate him," she whispered.

She did not hate him.