The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 406: Famous House of Pleasure - 2

Rani turned to Milan with a more formal bow.

”Prince Milan. This is a rare honor. You so seldom accept invitations to social engagements.”

”Mistress Rani,” Milan acknowledged with a respectful nod.

”Your reputation for discretion and quality made this an easy decision.”

Then Rani’s attention shifted to Jolthar, and her expression became intrigued.

”And you must be Baron Jolthar Kaezhlar. The young man who has set the entire capital talking.” She bowed, deeper than she had for the princes.

”Welcome to the Pinkblosom House. I’ve arranged a very special evening for you.”

”Special how?” Jolthar asked with a slight smile.

”Because I’ve learned that ’special’ in places like this can mean anything from exceptional hospitality to elaborate assassination attempts.”

Rani’s laugh was genuine and delighted.

”How refreshingly direct! I assure you, Baron, the only thing in danger tonight is your assumption that all-powerful women want something nefarious from you. Sometimes we simply wish to know interesting people and build connections.”

”In my experience, interesting people are exactly the ones everyone wants something from,” Jolthar replied.

”But I appreciate the assurance.”

Rani’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she responded, ”Well, consider me an exception to the rule then. Let’s just enjoy the evening and see where it takes us.”

Jolthar nodded, with a slight smile playing on his lips. He could feel her gaze on him, like checking him out.

Rani gestured to a seating area with several large mattresses arranged in a conversational circle. ”Please sit. Be comfortable. I’ve ordered refreshments.”

They settled onto the cushions—impossibly soft, clearly stuffed with down or something equally luxurious. Immediately, several women appeared carrying trays with drinks and delicate foods. The service was smooth, professional, and almost invisible in its efficiency.

Jolthar had just accepted a glass of what appeared to be wine when another figure entered the hall.

The woman who approached was perhaps in her forties, with striking features and a commanding presence that rivaled Rani’s own.

Her black hair was styled elaborately, and she wore a dress that was both elegant and strategically revealing, accentuating a figure that would make men half her age stumble over their words. Her bearing spoke of nobility and wealth.

She moved directly to their seating area with the confidence of someone who belonged anywhere she chose to be.

Jolthar was watching her hips, swaying with elegance, and his gaze was drawn to her delicate mounds, which were jiggling every time she took a step. Such a delicious creature she was.

”Prince Andrion,” she said warmly, bowing.

”Still as charming as ever, I see.”

”Duchess Jazmin,” Andrion replied with a grin.

”Looking as magnificent as always.”

”Prince Milan,” Jazmin continued, her bow to him slightly deeper.

”What a pleasant surprise to see you here. I was under the impression you avoided such establishments.”

”I make exceptions for extraordinary circumstances,” Milan replied diplomatically.

Then Jazmin’s gaze settled on Jolthar, and her smile widened.

”And Baron Kaezhlar. The man himself. I’m Duchess Jazmin Akupa, and I was one of the people who sent you an invitation. I’m delighted you accepted.”

”Duchess,” Jolthar acknowledged. He furrowed his brows, seeing how she familiarized herself with him.

”Your invitation was certainly persuasive.”

”Was it the phrasing or the prospect of meeting interesting people?” Jazmin asked, settling onto the cushions beside them with practiced grace.

”Honestly? It was the fact that multiple invitations arrived simultaneously, all suggesting the same location,” Jolthar replied.

”That level of coordination suggested something worth paying attention to.”

”Clever,” Jazmin observed.

”I like clever men. They’re so much more entertaining than the usual peacocks who strut around the capital, pretending their family names make them interesting.”

”Speaking of interesting,” Rani interjected, still standing, ”we’re still waiting for a few more guests. Important ones. Tonight’s gathering is rather more significant than a typical evening at the Pinkblossom House.”

Before anyone could ask what she meant, the sound of armored footsteps echoed from the entrance. Multiple sets are moving in synchronized formation.

The whole chamber went quiet.

Every woman present turned toward the entrance, and Jolthar noticed that many of them were standing, their expressions shifting to something formal, almost reverential.

A squad of women in armor entered first, not ceremonial armor but functional battle gear that marked them as serious warriors. They took positions on either side of the entrance, and three women walked through.

The moment they appeared, the entire hall seemed to shift. Andrion and Milan immediately stood, and Jolthar noticed that even Rani and Jazmin had risen to their feet.

Milan noticed that Jolthar was still sitting and quickly grabbed Jolthar’s arm and pulled him up urgently.

”Stand,” he hissed quietly.

Jolthar stood, watching as the three women entered fully.

The one in the lead was breathtaking in a way that transcended simple beauty.

She appeared to be in her late thirties, with features that were strikingly beautiful.

Almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones, and a bearing that radiated authority. She wore robes of deep crimson and gold that marked her as imperial, and she moved with the arrogance of someone who had never been denied anything she desired.

Behind her, two more women followed.

The first had distinct features, graceful and elegant, perhaps in her mid-thirties, wearing robes of green and silver. The second woman sharp features, pale skin, and an intense gaze. She wore blue and white robes that complemented her companion’s.

Rani stepped forward and bowed deeply—far deeper than she had for anyone else.

”Your Imperial Majesty, Empress Dayamati. The Pinkblossom House is honored beyond measure by your presence.”

Second Empress, that’s what people called behind her back but before her, they called her empress and if they did not refer to as such, they will have no head to think.

Jolthar’s mind clicked through the implications.

This was one of the Emperor’s wives, one of the most powerful women in the entire empire.

”Mistress Rani,” Dayamati replied, her voice carrying the musical quality of someone accustomed to being listened to.

”You promised an interesting evening. I hope you deliver.”

”I have no doubt it will exceed expectations, Your Majesty,” Rani assured her.