Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Lux's eyes dropped briefly to her neck—where a velvet choker held a single obsidian jewel. Real obsidian, by the aura. Not a fashion statement. A weapon. A ward. She was smart.

And then he looked at her arms, her fingers—each glimmering with rings and bracelets of mixed gem resonance. Most mortals wore jewels like trophies.

Lylith wore them like tools.

Strategic. Controlled. Calculated indulgence.

Yeah.

She was Greed.

Not his Greed. Not infernal royalty.

But a fair greed.

Not someone who wanted to use him to win a war. Not a chess player with bloodlust.

Just someone who saw a valuable piece, and wanted it to shine for her.

He could work with that.

So he didn't pull away. Didn't step back.

Mira was still watching.

And Lylith?

She glanced sideways. Met Mira's stare.

Smirked.

Like she'd just won a silent auction.

Then turned back to Lux with practiced ease.

"Let's get moving," she said.

He offered her his arm.

She took it like it was always meant to be hers.

They continued walking, eyes following them like magnetic compasses caught between hurricanes.

Lux could feel Mira's aura press at his back, like storm clouds coiling against the edge of his shadow.

It didn't bother him.

Not really.

But it did interest him.

He leaned slightly toward Lylith as they approached the next display case.

"Just to be clear," he said under his breath, voice warm and smooth like whiskey and sin, "you're doing all this because you want to win. Right?"

"Of course." She didn't even flinch. "This is a game. I intend to win."

He smiled. "Against Mira?"

"Against everyone."

That? That was sexy.

Terrifying.

But sexy.

She stopped him in front of the next case. It was some myth-touched staff—obsidian rod, sapphire inlay, supposedly owned by a prophet.

Lux squinted.

Fake.

He didn't say anything yet.

Lylith turned to him, hand still resting on his arm.

Her fingers were cool, smooth, precise—like she knew the value of every touch, and never wasted a gesture unless it could be weaponized.

"You're not just a pretty face," she said quietly. "You're a force multiplier. You break illusions. You cut through pretense. You don't lie to yourself."

"Occasionally," Lux replied with a lazy smile. "If it helps with taxes."

She smirked, lips curling like the blade of a jewel-encrusted dagger.

Then her gaze lingered—just a bit too long.

"Sometimes," she said slowly, "I wish you were a jewel."

Lux raised a brow, amused. "So you could lock me in a case and put a price tag on my neck?"

"No," she murmured. "So I could buy you. Wear you. Bring you with me. Own you outright."

The words were soft, but they shimmered with something far sharper than flirtation. Possession. Hunger. Appreciation in its most dangerous form.

"But…" she added, voice dipping into something that almost sounded like genuine regret, "you're not."

She looked at him like she was calculating the risk. Weighing it. And still smiling.

"This is the first time I've liked a person more than a jewel," she said, almost absently. "That's new for me. They usually don't impress me. People bore me. Break. Lie. Dull easily."

Lux tilted his head. "That's why you want to buy me?"

She nodded, amused. "At least you'd shine longer."

"And here I thought I was priceless."

"Oh, I could afford you," she said, matter-of-fact. "I just don't know if I could handle you. There's a difference."

Lux chuckled. "That's fair. Handling me does require some hazard training."

Lylith slittered closer, their bodies now nearly touching in front of the next glittering case. She didn't look at the artifact. Didn't need to. Her eyes were fixed on him.

And then her expression shifted—just a degree.

Sharper.

Hotter.

"I'll earn your price," she said softly. "Just tell me the fake or the genuine one. The trash or the valuables. You don't even need to lift a finger—just name them, and I'll make sure they're seen accordingly."

Lux didn't smile.

Didn't need to.

He just looked at her—

Really looked.

Not at the emeralds framing her ears or the gemstone-laced veil of her hair.

Not at the calculated curve of her hips or the pendant pulsing faintly at her throat.

No.

He looked beneath that.

At the strategist.

At the queen.

At the woman who didn't flinch when he stepped closer.

The one who didn't care he was dangerous.

Didn't care he had power.

Because she wanted it.

She didn't want to run.

She wanted to match him.

Buy him.

Maybe even break him, if she could figure out how.

And Lux?

He liked that.

He leaned in—casually, but just enough to cast his shadow across her cheek.

"So you'll give yourself to me?" he asked quietly.

She didn't answer right away.

Instead, her lips parted on a soft breath. Her lashes dipped. Her fingers tapped a slow rhythm against his wrist—calculating, always.

Then her voice returned, silken and sharp.

"Entertain me with that thought," she whispered. "It's delicious. The idea of being yours."

She smiled then, slow and wicked.

"But let's be clear."

She lifted her chin, eyes glittering like sapphires in a dragon's horde.

"I prefer making you belong to me."

She tilted her head. "You can't possibly expect a queen to kneel, do you?"

Her tone was playfully mocking. But her gaze burned.

"You want me? Then be worthy. You'd need to be a king to do it."

Lux's smirk returned, molten and lazy.

"How about a prince?" he said.

And that stopped her for a moment.

A flicker in her expression.

The corner of her mouth twitched like she was trying not to be impressed.

"I knew there was royalty in you somewhere," she murmured, mostly to herself.

Lux just winked.

Didn't confirm. Didn't deny.

Because that?

That would ruin the fun.

Instead, he reached forward and tapped the glass case beside them.

"Fake," he said simply. "Color's too even. It's dyed. Cracks in the gilding are artificially aged."

"Noted," Lylith replied with the grace of someone already planning to bankrupt whoever put it there.

Her assistant immediately scribbled something into a tiny gold-edged notebook.

They began walking again—closer now. Her hand remained on his arm. His stride matched hers. And behind them, the room couldn't look away.