Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Chapter 1027 – Wounded Royal Devil Cat

Naomi’s hand lifted before she fully decided to move.

Then stopped halfway.

Lux noticed.

His eyes shifted toward her hand, then back to her face.

That silence gave her permission more than words would have.

Naomi gently placed her palm on his head.

Lux blinked once.

Then stayed still.

Her fingers moved through his hair carefully, slow and soft, as if touching him too roughly might wake whatever storm still turned behind his eyes. The strands were cooler than she expected, silk-dark beneath her fingers. She stroked once. Then again.

Lux lowered his gaze to the mug and took another sip.

No complaints.

Just quiet acceptance.

Naomi’s heart squeezed.

He looked like a wounded cat.

No.

A wounded royal devil cat.

The kind that had probably conquered three kingdoms, audited their treasury, seduced their queens, and then pretended he did not need affection while secretly leaning into the hand petting his head.

Naomi almost smiled.

She did not want to ruin the softness too quickly.

So she kept stroking his hair as he drank.

The hot chocolate slowly vanished.

Lux’s shoulders lowered little by little. The harsh edge of his breath softened. The silence between them no longer felt heavy with war calculations.

Eventually, the mug was empty.

Lux looked at the bottom of it, as if mildly betrayed by physics.

Then he placed it on the bedside table.

He said nothing.

Naomi’s hand lingered in his hair for one more second before she withdrew it. ”Do you want more?” she asked softly. ”Or anything else?”

Lux did not answer immediately.

He lifted his eyes to hers.

That wounded prince’s face remained.

Then he said, with complete seriousness, ”I want snacks.”

Naomi stared at him.

For a moment, she thought he meant exactly that.

Maybe Gula had infected the house more deeply than expected. Maybe Lux, after all his stress and impossible calculations, genuinely wanted something sweet. Maybe the hot chocolate had awakened a dormant need for comfort food.

Naomi smiled.

”What kind of snacks?” she asked. ”You haven’t had your dessert yet. Do you want Gula’s dessert?”

And then...

Like flipping a coin.

The wounded prince disappeared.

Lux’s smirk appeared. ”I want you.”

Naomi’s breath caught.

Lux tilted his head slightly, eyes glowing with that familiar amusement. ”You are my snack.”

”Lux.”

Her voice came out warning.

Mostly.

A little breathless.

His hand moved before she could step back. He caught her wrist, not harshly, not painfully, but with enough certainty that her body reacted before her pride could decide what expression to wear.

Naomi gasped.

His fingers were warm around her skin.

She looked into his eyes and instantly knew.

Oh.

That face was not the wounded prince anymore.

This was Greed.

This was Lust.

This was the CFO of Hell she knew too well. The man who could sit through a room full of demons with half-lidded eyes and leave everyone wondering when they had started obeying him.

The softness had not been fake.

That was the dangerous part.

It had been real.

But Lux could move from real softness into temptation like someone changing weapons.

Effortless.

Unfairly attractive.

He pulled.

Naomi stumbled forward.

Her knees touched the edge of the bed, and in the next breath, her body fell onto the mattress. Lux followed with controlled ease, one hand braced beside her shoulder, the other sliding near her waist, not trapping her cruelly, but surrounding her with enough presence that escape became a theoretical concept.

Naomi’s heart kicked.

”Lux,” she said again, but it had lost most of its blade.

He leaned over her.

His hair fell slightly forward. His robe shifted, revealing the line of his collarbone. His eyes studied her face with lazy hunger and something warmer beneath it.

”Naomi,” he answered, voice lower.

A velvet trap.

She swallowed. ”You were stressed. I heard you.”

His smile faded by a fraction. For a second, his eyes sharpened. ”You heard what?”

Naomi looked at him steadily. ”You were calculating your survival probability.”

A thin silence passed between them.

Lux did not deny it. He could have. He was very good at lying with truth-shaped sentences.

Instead, his gaze softened just enough to admit she had caught him. ”I was,” he said again.

Then the smirk returned, slower this time, edged with warmth.

”But I am an incubus too.”

Naomi’s lips parted.

Lux leaned closer, voice dropping into that seductive tone that wrapped around her spine before her thoughts could defend themselves. ”Calculating those things is my job as the Greed heir.” His mouth hovered close to hers. ”Making myself stress-free and seducing you is also my job as Lust heir.”

Naomi closed her eyes for half a second. ”Very convenient job description.”

”I negotiated it myself.”

His smile brushed close enough that she felt it before his lips touched. Then he kissed her.

Deeply.

Like he had been quiet for too long and chose her mouth as the first place to return. Naomi’s breath shivered against him, and then she answered.

Her hands rose to his shoulders.

At first, she meant to steady herself.

Then her fingers curled into the fabric of his robe.

Their tongues met.

Naomi’s chest tightened with warmth, with want, with the absurd frustration of knowing exactly how manipulative Lux could be and still wanting him anyway.

Because she knew him.

She knew he could be dangerous with words.

She knew he could tilt a situation, change a mood, turn weakness into leverage, and make seduction feel like strategy.

But what she had seen before was real.

The way he looked at survival numbers and pretended fear was only another calculation.

That wounded softness had not been bait.

It had been Lux without armor.

Naomi broke the kiss just enough to breathe.

Lux smiled down at her.

She looked into his eyes, trying to find the seam between the exhausted man and the tempting demon. There was no seam. That was what made him Lux.

”You can flip your mood too fast,” she whispered.

”Not mood.”

”Then what?”

His thumb brushed lightly over the back of her hand. ”Function.”