Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Chapter 147 – Under The Table

He was answering questions about tax structure and finance consultations and at the same time, his palm was dragging up the slit of her gown like he had every right.

Like they were alone.

Like none of the others at the table mattered.

His fingers brushed the skin of her inner thigh. Teasing.

Rava didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Her fork was frozen halfway to her mouth. Her breath caught. Her spine was still perfectly straight, but her mind was slipping.

She shifted slightly.

His hand followed.

Upward.

Higher.

And then...

His foot nudged hers under the table.

Just a graze. Just the toe of his boot sliding against her ankle.

But he knew what he was doing.

She looked at him sharply.

He didn’t look back.

Still talking. Still sipping wine like he wasn’t currently seducing her in front of three oblivious or not-so-oblivious women.

Her cheeks flushed.

His fingers moved again.

Bolder.

Wicked.

They traced the edge of her underwear—lace and thin and very much not meant to survive this level of attention.

She pressed her knees together.

His hand stayed.

Right there. Heat radiating into her skin. A reminder. A threat.

Elyndra was asking something now. Something about work ethics and hiring practices.

Lux gave a lazy answer, voice as smooth as sin-stirred silk.

But his thumb slid against her.

And pressed.

Rava exhaled through her nose, slow, sharp.

Her wineglass trembled slightly in her hand.

Mira was watching.

Of course she was. That smirk said she knew something was happening—but not what.

Not exactly.

Fiera raised a brow and went back to her steak.

Lux moved his foot again.

This time, it hooked around Rava’s ankle and pulled her leg toward his—spreading her subtly, possessively.

Rava’s jaw clenched.

She stabbed her fork into her plate.

Lux leaned forward then, finally turning his head, lips brushing the edge of her ear with just enough heat to melt her spine.

”You want to excuse yourself,” he whispered.

His voice didn’t match his expression. Calm. Composed.

His fingers were not.

”Or,” he continued, lower, darker, ”you want to finish dessert right here while pretending not to lose your mind.”

She whipped her head toward him.

The look he gave her—hungry, restrained, amused—nearly shattered her control.

She reached under the table, grabbed his wrist.

Firm. Final.

But he didn’t move.

Instead, his hand slid even higher and settled. Possessively. Right where she was warm and throbbing.

She could barely breathe.

The girls kept talking.

Ely said something about soul contracts. Probably a joke since she didn’t know Lux’s real identity yet.

Mira joked about selling hers if it came with Lux in a ribbon.

Fiera rolled her eyes.

But Lux...

Lux dragged one finger, slow and sinful, along her heat.

That was all it took.

All he needed to make Rava lose her goddamn mind.

Her vision blurred. Her pulse roared in her ears. The warmth under her skin surged into something molten, uncontainable, impossible to ignore. Everything else vanished—the conversation, the clink of cutlery, the hum of wine-fueled gossip. All she could feel was his touch. That single, infernal stroke.

Rava stood up so fast her chair scraped the floor, screeching across polished wood.

Everyone blinked.

Mira froze mid-sip.

Fiera raised both brows.

Elyndra squeaked and dropped another macaron.

Rava didn’t even look at them. Couldn’t.

She grabbed Lux by the wrist—his cursed, shameless, wandering wrist—and hissed through clenched teeth, ”Bathroom. Now.”

Lux smirked like he’d just won a war without drawing a sword. ”Finally.”

But before they could vanish through the archway...

Fiera leaned back, all lazy grin and crossed arms. ”I thought you didn’t want to get dragged to the bathroom. But in the end, it’s you who dragged him to the bathroom.”

Elyndra blinked rapidly. ”I thought you said you wanted to have dinner first before... you know...”

Mira set her wineglass down and smiled slowly, her eyes glittering like jewels polished by fire. ”Oh, I like this.”

She leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with Lux across the table like a predator to another predator.

”I really want to know how you do it,” she purred. ”How you break someone like that.”

Her voice dropped to a sultry murmur that danced between threat and promise.

”I want to break you more.”

Lux turned his head over his shoulder.

That smile?

Downright unholy.

”Careful,” he said, voice like molten silk. ”You’ll get your chance.”

And then they were gone.

Rava didn’t look back.

She didn’t care what they said. Didn’t care how smug Mira sounded or how Elyndra’s soul was probably trying to exit her body through her heels.

Because the moment she crossed that threshold, Lux’s hand slid down her back—slow, deliberate—like a devil claiming what was his.

And she wasn’t running.

She was burning.

The bathroom door slammed shut behind them without either of them touching it. Lux didn’t flinch. He never flinched. He just turned the lock with a flick of his wrist, not even looking.

Rava didn’t wait.

She grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him forward, her lips crashing into his in a kiss that had nothing soft in it. No teasing. No flirting. Just heat. Want. Hunger so sharp it scraped her ribs from the inside out.

Lux met her halfway, lips curling against hers as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment since the second she sat down at the dinner table. Since the second she crossed her legs too tightly, since she glared at Mira, since he touched her under the table and lit her on fire like it was routine.

Her hands curled in his shirt.

His lips moved over hers with maddening control. Like he was holding back.

So she bit him.

Not hard—just enough.

He let out a low noise. Amused. A groan wrapped in a laugh.

And then his voice—damn his voice—brushed over her lips.

”Relax,” he murmured, warm breath against her cheek. ”You’re acting like you’re about to eat me alive.”

She pulled back, just enough to meet his eyes, her own glowing faintly with that iridescent, aquatic gleam her kind got when pushed too far toward instinct.

”I am,” she hissed. ”And you’re smiling about it.”

He leaned in again, lips ghosting over the edge of her jaw, voice dark and velvet-smooth. ”Of course, I am.”

Her tentacles moved before her brain even caught up.