Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation-Chapter 135: Sin on Vacation

Chapter 135 – Sin on Vacation

"She twirled," Elyndra added. "There was actual choreography. Is that legal?"

"I blacked out," Rava muttered, sipping her drink.

Lux smiled innocently. "So how did I do?"

Rava’s tentacles slowly wrapped around a breadstick and snapped it in half.

"I’ll take that as approval," Lux said.

Fiera appeared ten minutes later for the final bow—still glowing, but more composed. She waved once to the crowd. Microphone in hand, she announced her thanks, the theme of the collection, and something about modern femininity wrapped in sleek silhouettes.

The audience roared their approval.

Orders poured in instantly—her tablet buzzing with incoming messages. Preorders. Bookings. Articles already being drafted by fashion media around the world.

But none of it compared to the warmth still lingering on her skin.

From his hand.

From his voice.

From him.

As the lights dimmed one last time and the crowd began to disperse, Fiera caught Lux’s gaze across the room. Just for a second.

He winked.

Like he hadn’t just ruined every carefully laid plan she had for the night.

And made her want it.

That was the end of the show.

But not the end of them.

Little did they know—hidden among the royalty-tier seating, tucked behind crystal partitions and velvet ropes designed to keep the peasants and billionaires out—sat a woman who wasn’t here for the glitz, the gowns, or even the gossip.

Lylith Seravelle.

Lamia.

Queen of the Obsidian Coil Jewelry Empire.

Auction matron of the forbidden markets.

Snake waist-down, seduction waist-up.

She lounged on a custom-carved seat lined with midnight fur, her long tail coiled beneath her like an exotic rug that could bite back. Her upper half was draped in gold-threaded silks, her arms bare save for glimmering bracelets shaped like fanged mouths. She wore her wealth like it was armor—and in her world, it was.

Around her, the royalty section buzzed in the most restrained way possible. Soft murmurs, polite wine-sipping, the occasional hushed chuckle. These were people who bled nations dry with a single nod and didn’t need to clap to make you feel seen.

The fashion show was, to them, a warm-up.

A side dish.

Appetizer before the real event.

Tonight’s auction.

But for Lylith, the air shifted before the first item ever hit the stage.

Because he happened.

The man on the runway.

Lux.

He walked like sin on vacation—one that didn’t apologize for the tan lines or the body count. That infernal suit clung to him like it was stitched with secrets and sexual tension. Every step radiated practiced control and casual ruin. The way he looked at the woman beside him—Fiera, was it?—like she was prey and accomplice, had a ripple effect through the entire hall.

Lylith’s tongue flicked out once. Testing the air.

She froze.

He didn’t smell mortal.

Not fully.

But something old. Something velvet-dark with a hint of smoldering coin.

"...Interesting," she whispered, coiling tighter.

The duke beside her, ancient and wrinkled like a taxidermy turtle in royal brocade, dared a sideways glance.

"Miss Seravelle?" he murmured.

Lylith didn’t even look at him. "The man. In the suit. Who is he?"

The duke blinked. "Model, I assume."

"No." Her voice was soft, but sharp. "Too confident. Too comfortable on a stage not meant for him."

"Well, he walked well enough—"

"He danced with her. On a runway. You know how much ego it takes to do that?"

"He twirled her," said a lady behind them, her jeweled veil trembling slightly. "Like some ballroom fiend."

"Arrogance," the duke scoffed. "The younger generation has no—"

"It wasn’t arrogance," Lylith murmured. "It was claiming."

She leaned forward slightly, one golden claw resting against her lower lip. Her eyes didn’t blink—just narrowed in cold, quiet focus. All around them, the buzz was building again. Not for the auction. Not yet. But for him.

And Lux?

He had just returned to his seat among the high-born heiresses like he hadn’t just walked a stage and ruined several marital engagements.

Rava. Mira. Elyndra. Fiera.

One man. Four women. Each worth more than a country.

Lylith’s eyes flicked across them. Her tail shifted slowly, wrapping higher around the leg of her seat like a lazy serpent deciding which vein to bite.

"How strange..." she purred to no one.

"Ma’am?" one of her guards leaned in.

"Find me his name. Now. Discreetly."

"Yes, Lady Seravelle."

She sipped from her chalice—a delicate thing, carved from the spine of a sea dragon—and let the chill of the wine wash over her tongue. A perfume of blackberry and blood. Perfect.

He didn’t belong to any of the upper houses. Not to the investors. Not to the lords, not even the Virellion family—she would’ve known.

But something in him glimmered with legacy.

He didn’t act like someone used to being on a leash.

He moved like someone who’d broken his.

Across the room, Lux leaned in to whisper something to Fiera again. The girl blushed. Actually blushed. Her fox tails fluffed violently behind her before she swatted them back into order.

Lylith chuckled under her breath.

Oh, this was delicious.

"He’s not just a model," she said quietly.

The duke grunted. "You’re being dramatic, Seravelle. Maybe he’s a charmed plaything. One of the heiresses’ pretty pets."

"No. I know pets. They follow. They don’t make the world bend around them."

She tilted her head, tongue flicking out again—tasting the space between them.

Heat. Lust. Greed.

All in one.

He smelled like leverage.

And Lylith?

She’d spent her entire life turning leverage into currency.

The show was ending. Final bows, glowing praise. Fiera stood beneath the golden lights, smiling with the grace of a woman who had won her battle but accidentally started a war.

The crowd rose. Polite clapping. Royalty nodding. The auction would begin soon.

But Lylith remained seated.

Still.

Watching.

Studying.

Scheming.

This man was not listed on any of the auction’s guest ledgers. At least not until today. ƒreewebɳovel.com

But tonight?

He might just be the most priceless thing in the room.

And if he was what she thought he was...

He wouldn’t walk out of this hall without at least a few offers.

Some whispered.

Some forged in blood.

And one, maybe... from her.

With a smile, Lylith leaned back and whispered to herself, tail flicking once more.

"Let’s see what you really cost, devil boy."