Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Chapter 264 – Sin Dipped in Finance

He moved like a walking recession—dangerous, expensive, and ready to destabilize the local market with a single smirk.

Tall. Shirtless.

And yeah... his cock?

Clearly outlined.

One woman dropped her drink. Another elbowed her friend hard enough to cause a spiritual injury. A third was pretending to read a book upside down.

Lux walked past them like it didn’t matter. Like his d*ck wasn’t the main character.

Inside? His brain was screaming.

’Why did I decide to do this? Why am I walking into the middle of the Real Housewives of mortal’s Capital like I’m a tribute from District Horny. I just want to calm down.’

He kept his face calm. Confidence was a currency. And today, he was investing in everyone else’s distraction.

He slid into the pool.

Cool water wrapped around him instantly—shockingly cold, sharp against his skin, yanking the last of his rising frustration into something manageable. His muscles relaxed. His heartbeat slowed.

”...Okay,” he muttered, letting his head fall back. ”This was a good idea.”

[Libido levels reduced by 37%]

”Thank you, ice water,” he whispered.

He floated for a few minutes, eyes closed, senses dulled. Until...

”Excuse me...”

A voice. Honey-sweet. A little breathless.

He opened one eye.

A woman stood at the edge of the pool, towel wrapped loosely around her hips. Maybe around her 30s. Fox-like smile. Jewelry expensive enough to file taxes.

”Sorry to interrupt,” she said, tilting her head, ”but are you... an actor? Model?”

”No,” Lux said, pushing hair back. ”Just stressed.”

She laughed. ”You don’t look stressed.”

”You haven’t seen my inbox.”

More giggles. Another woman came over. Then another. Suddenly Lux had company—tanned, perfumed, curious.

”You’re not wearing a ring,” one noted.

”Are you new in town?” another asked.

”Do you... do massage?” the third said, completely straight-faced.

Lux just smirked.

And thought, ’This pool might’ve cost me 1,200$. But the real ROI (Return on Investment)?’

Yeah... he was about to find out.

He tilted his head slightly, water dripping from the edge of his damp hair, and gave them the kind of grin that wasn’t just a smile—it was a financial hazard. ”Yes, I’m new,” he said smoothly. ”And no... I don’t do massage.” He leaned in a little, voice dropping, low and silky. ”Unless it’s a... different kind of massage.”

He used that voice. The one calibrated with demonic precision. Deep, smooth, with just enough gravel to imply sin and just enough heat to imply regret—after the third round on the floor.

The women froze.

Not like prey.

Like predators caught off guard by someone with sharper teeth.

One of them—tall, sharp cheekbones, red-lacquered nails wrapped around a flute of prosecco—smirked knowingly. ”Is that so?”

Another one, draped in gold silk like a half-unwrapped gift, gave him a once-over that felt like an audit. ”Well. If I knew the pool included complimentary fantasy, I would’ve canceled my spa day.”

Lux chuckled softly, letting his arm rest along the pool’s edge, exposing the fine lines of muscle down his chest and the suggestive V that the trunks absolutely refused to hide. ”Sadly, I’m not on the menu. I’m just here to relax. Maybe do a bit of swimming. You know. For the muscles.”

He rolled a shoulder in demonstration. The move was subtle. The reaction wasn’t.

The third woman—a petite type with a serpent tattoo wrapping up her thigh—tilted her head. ”Swimming’s good. Builds stamina.”

”Flexibility,” murmured the first, sipping her drink. ”And control.”

Lux gave a low hum, amused. He knew exactly what they were doing.

Flirting? Obviously.

Testing boundaries? Absolutely.

Scouting investment opportunities? Maybe not literally—but the look in their eyes screamed asset acquisition.

And who could blame them? Half-incubus. Half-CFO. Fully built like sin dipped in finance.

He was the kind of temptation that didn’t just ruin marriages—it restructured them.

Still—he had to be careful.

[Warning! 15 Horny MILFs in Range. Yes, Sir. They Are All Horny.]

’Thanks, system. Very subtle.’

One of the women—sun-kissed, with legs that seemed to stretch into next fiscal quarter and a voice smooth as insider trading—offered him a shy, radiant smile. She tucked a curl behind her ear, leaned closer, and said, ”Would you like something to drink? A juice maybe. My treat.”

Her tone was light. Casual. Friendly.

But Lux had done enough due diligence in his life to recognize a soft open for a hostile acquisition.

The kind that started with organic nectar and ended with an NDA in silk sheets.

Lux wanted to say yes. A polite nod, a charming smile, maybe even a sip—just enough to acknowledge the gesture. But he didn’t. Because he couldn’t.

Not here.

Not with them.

Not when every cell in his body recognized the signs.

See, accepting a drink from a group of rich, bored, and very interested women wasn’t just dangerous—it was reckless. Not because they were mortal. Not because they were married. But because women like this didn’t offer refreshments.

They offered traps.

Wrapped in citrus-scented temptation.

And probably laced with enough aphrodisiac to drop a dragon.

And Lux?

He was an incubus.

An incubus on aphrodisiacs didn’t just get horny.

He went feral.

No restraint. No conscience. Just a walking catastrophe of sex and ruin, the kind of blackout that ended with broken furniture, stained silk, and lawsuits.

’Right,’ Lux thought, managing not to groan. ’No drinks. No food. No accidental licking of any flavored lip gloss either.’

”No thanks,” he said, smiling politely. ”I have a bit of sensitivity. Can’t risk anything with additives.”

”Oh,” she blinked. ”Allergic?”

He shrugged. ”More like... occupational hazard.”

And that was the truth, wasn’t it?

Because Lux wasn’t just a hot guy in a luxury pool. He was a Vaelthorn. The son of Greed and Lust. The Crown Prince of Capitalized Carnality. The demon who could bankrupt someone with a kiss and walk away smelling like sin and dividends.

An aphrodisiac in his system?

Bad idea.

Feral was the polite term. The real one?

Market collapse. On the thighs.