Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Lylith blinked.

Then smiled wider.

"No one ever refuses me."

Lux tilted his head. "You sure about that?"

Lylith stood slowly. The scales of her lower half shimmered in the light like serpentine armor forged from gemstone dust.

"I don't make threats," she said. "I make purchases."

He didn't move.

Didn't blink.

Just smiled.

"Then you'll need to make a down payment," he said. "I'm not cheap."

She slittered close. Too close.

The warmth of her skin. The scent of crushed garnet and perfume wrapped in silk.

"I didn't ask for cheap."

And Lux?

He laughed.

Soft. Dangerous. Curious.

A sound that slid between her ribs like a secret and made the shadows on the ceiling twitch.

He stepped back—not out of fear, but like a dancer resetting his rhythm. Arms loose. Smile coiled.

"So," he said, voice light as mist and twice as cutting, "how much are you willing to pay?"

Lylith blinked. Once.

Then reclined again, as if the question amused her.

"It depends," she said, plucking her goblet from the tray. "On your performance."

She sipped the wine, ruby-stained lips kissing the rim like it owed her something.

"I can also," she added, voice now dipped in lazy threat, "make your life very miserable."

Lux tilted his head. "Wow. So warm. So generous. Has anyone ever told you your negotiation style feels like being seduced and threatened by a tax audit?"

Lylith's grin was subtle, but there.

Lux narrowed his eyes slightly, then said, "Is that better than Miss Xianlong's offering?"

That earned her attention.

Her eyes flicked toward his face with sudden sharpness. "What did Mira offer you?"

He hummed. Like he was deciding whether to tell her or make her guess. Then…

"A date."

"A date?" Her voice hitched half a pitch higher—still elegant, but laced with disbelief. "That's all?"

He nodded. "Technically. No contracts. No threats."

A beat.

"And," he added with a raised brow, "her subordinates didn't point a gun at me."

Lylith's expression twitched—just a little. A flash of something… maybe guilt. Maybe annoyance. Maybe disappointment that she wasn't the only one circling him.

"Fair enough," she murmured. "So what do you want, Mr. Vaelthorn?"

The words were smooth, but there was steel behind them. The way she said his name—slow, deliberate, like she was unwrapping it in her mouth—told him she wasn't just asking. She was testing.

He didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he stepped closer.

Slowly. Quietly. Like gravity was pulling him toward her.

The lighting shifted as he moved—soft shadows bending just slightly, like the room leaned to hear what he was about to say.

He stopped just in front of her, looking down at the lamia queen with the kind of composure reserved for royalty and psychopaths.

"If you want to get in business with me," he said, voice low and silk-wrapped sin, "I need you to pay me."

A pause.

She lifted her chin. "Name the price."

Lux leaned in.

Close enough to smell the floral heat of her skin.

"To get me," he whispered, "you pay with yourself."

Silence.

Real, thick, luxurious silence.

Lylith's eyes didn't blink. Didn't flinch.

Her lips parted slightly, more in amusement than shock.

[Dramatic seduction line delivered. Subtle threat level: 57%. Emotional manipulation: moderately effective.]

Lylith raised a brow, then leaned forward, her tail subtly uncoiling, the scales brushing faintly against the velvet like whispers.

"Me?" she asked, not cold—just curious. Her voice was velvet, the kind used to unwrap bombs. "You want me?"

"Yes," Lux said, without hesitation. "You. All of you."

He didn't blink. Didn't smirk.

Not yet.

"And you won't be disappointed," he added, stepping closer, his tone dipped in slow-burning certainty. "I could promise that. I can give you more than anything you think you want."

It wasn't flirtation.

It was fact.

And it landed.

Hard.

Lylith's lips parted, but not with shock—something closer to surprise layered with intrigue.

Then she chuckled.

A rich, throaty sound, mocking but not cruel.

"Oh, darling," she said, drawing herself higher on her coiled throne. "Do you have any idea how many have tried that line?"

Her hand gestured vaguely around the room. "I have statues of men who've said the same. Literal marble tributes to failures."

She leaned in, chin tilted with glimmering pride. "I don't belong to anyone. I don't pay myself out."

Lux's smile sharpened.

He nodded once, like that was the answer he expected. "Good. Because I don't want a statue."

He met her gaze—unflinching. Infernal gold locked on crimson.

"I want a stake. Not a trophy. Not a transaction."

He let the weight of his words settle like heat between them.

"If you want my help," he continued, his voice lower now, darker, like a secret being unwrapped with a blade, "if you want me—not just my eyes, not just my instincts, but my full involvement—then I need something real."

He raised a hand slowly, drawing an invisible circle in the air between them. The light caught on the gold of his cufflink, flashing just enough to echo his eyes.

"Not a wire transfer. Not a vault key. Not even another name carved into your museum of almosts."

She watched his hand trace the air like it was sketching a deal into the world itself.

"I need skin in the game."

Lylith's fingers tapped her goblet once—faint, deliberate.

The jewels on her wrists glittered like her patience was being measured by light.

"So, what—my body?" she asked, voice dry. "My name? My blood?"

Lux shrugged.

"Whichever part hurts the most."

There was no malice in it. Just honesty. That was what made it hit harder than any threat.

Lylith blinked once. Slowly. Her lashes casting long shadows against her cheekbones.

Then she smiled again—but this time, it wasn't amusement.

It was something closer to recognition.

He wasn't another sycophant. Not a flirt trying to win a throne he didn't understand.

He was here to barter properly.

And that?

That was dangerous.

And… fascinating.

That did something.