Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation-Chapter 722: Do You Want It?

Chapter 722 – Do You Want It?

He spoke again without even looking at her.

"Wanna touch it?"

Her brain stalled.

"...Huh?"

He finally turned his head, eyes calm, almost teasing.

"You keep looking at me," he said simply. "You can touch it. I don’t mind."

Her entire body went rigid.

"I—I was not—"

"You were."

She stared at him.

He gestured faintly to his chest.

"Those lap dancers touched me," he continued. "Kind of disappointing, honestly."

Her mouth opened slightly.

"Disappointing?" she repeated. "They’re pros."

"Yes," he said. "But I felt like a genie lamp."

She blinked.

"...What?"

"Rub me," he said dryly, "and I’ll give you money."

She almost laughed despite herself.

"But you did that," she pointed out.

"I did," he agreed. "Because it was transactional. That’s normal."

He leaned back again.

"Maybe that’s why I was disappointed."

She frowned slightly.

"...Then why are you letting me?"

He looked at her for a long second.

And this time there was no teasing in his eyes.

"Because yours is curiosity," he said quietly.

Her breath caught.

Curiosity.

Not greed.

Not calculation.

Not leverage.

Curiosity.

Her fingers twitched against her knee.

He didn’t rush her.

Didn’t lean closer.

Didn’t grab her hand.

He just sat there.

Waiting.

The air between them felt thick.

Dangerous.

She swallowed. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

"...You’re unbelievable," she muttered.

"And yet you’re still here."

She shot him a look.

"That doesn’t mean anything."

"Sure."

She glared.

He smirked.

She inhaled slowly.

Fine.

Fine!

It was just touching his chest.

Not illegal.

Not scandalous.

Probably.

She shifted slightly closer.

Her hand hovered.

Her brain screamed.

’Don’t.’

’Do not.’

Abort mission.

But her hand betrayed her.

Her fingers brushed lightly against his chest.

Warm.

Firm.

Solid.

She inhaled sharply without meaning to.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t flex.

Didn’t make a sound.

Her fingers slid lower, almost against her own will.

Over the defined line of his abs.

The muscles tightened faintly beneath her touch.

Not aggressive.

Just alive.

Her tail flicked nervously.

"You’re shaking," he observed calmly.

"I am not."

"You are."

She glared up at him.

"Stop analyzing me."

"You’re fascinating."

That did not help.

Her hand rested against his abdomen now.

She was very aware of how close she was.

Very aware of the faint warmth radiating from him.

Her imagination was not helping.

"You’re thinking again," he murmured.

"I hate you," she said weakly.

"You don’t."

Unfortunately, he was correct.

She slid her hand back up quickly, retreating like she’d touched fire.

"That’s enough," she declared.

He raised a brow.

"Sure?"

"Yes."

"You didn’t even test the hypothesis."

She blinked.

"What hypothesis?!"

He leaned slightly closer.

"That I’m not disappointing."

Her brain short-circuited again.

"You are insane."

"Probably."

She pushed him lightly in the chest.

"You’re too confident."

He smiled faintly.

"I have data."

She snorted.

"You do not."

"I do."

"Lux."

He leaned closer again, voice lowering slightly.

"You were curious," he said. "You satisfied it."

She stared at him.

"...You’re not going to make a move?"

Lux didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he smirked.

Slowly.

And then he leaned closer.

Not aggressively. Not forcefully.

Just enough that the space between them shrank into something dangerous.

"Do you want it?" he asked quietly.

Oh.

Oh no.

Those words hit her like a pulse of electricity.

Her heart kicked hard against her ribs. Her ears burned. Her tail froze mid-sway.

Do you want it?

He wasn’t grabbing her.

Wasn’t pushing her down.

Wasn’t cornering her.

He was asking.

And somehow that made it worse.

"If you allow me," he continued, voice dropping lower, smoother, "I will make a move."

Her breath caught.

"A nasty one."

Her fingers twitched at her side.

"Just... remember," he added calmly, eyes never leaving hers, "I won’t stop on one round."

Her stomach flipped.

"And I..." His gaze sharpened faintly. "Am Greed. Once mine, will mine. I don’t let go."

Her brain short-circuited.

Greed?

Was that metaphorical?

Was he joking?

Was this some dramatic billionaire personality trait?

She didn’t know.

All she knew was that her pulse was racing and the velvet-lit room felt smaller.

Her lips parted slightly.

She wanted to kiss him.

She wanted to.

But this state...

Champagne.

Heat.

Tension.

Adrenaline from the Aelitha mess.

Lux might be able to hold himself.

She wasn’t sure she could.

And that scared her more than anything he’d said.

Because if she leaned in...

She didn’t know if she’d stop.

And after what Aelitha had done?

After the media mess?

After the fake pregnancy stunt?

She couldn’t afford to create another storm.

Her family would implode.

Her cousins would gossip.

Her name would be dragged next.

And she wasn’t Aelitha.

She didn’t run from consequences.

Her chest tightened.

She stood up abruptly.

"I need to go."

Her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

She turned toward the door.

Two steps.

And then...

His fingers closed gently around her wrist.

Not tight.

Just enough.

She froze.

Her heart slammed again.

He didn’t yank her back.

Didn’t pull her into him.

He just held her there.

"I heard your family wants to invite me," he said calmly, still seated. "To apologize. Officially."

Her throat felt dry.

"...Yes."

He studied her face.

"Send me the invitation."

Her pulse pounded in her ears.

He released her wrist slowly.

"I’ll come," he said quietly, "not because I want the apology."

Her heart skipped.

"But because of you."

Silence.

Her brain melted.

He leaned back again like he hadn’t just detonated her entire emotional stability.

She nodded stiffly.

"...Okay."

That was all she trusted herself to say.

She turned and walked toward the door.

Not ran.

Walked.

Composed.

Dignified.

The second the door shut behind her...

She hurried down the hallway like someone fleeing a crime scene.

Her face was burning.

Her tail was a disaster.

Her heart would not calm down.

Because he hadn’t kissed her.

He hadn’t even stood up.

He’d just asked.

And promised.

And warned her.

Once mine, will mine.

Who says that?

Who says that in a strip club lounge?

She reached the end of the corridor and paused, pressing her back against the wall for a second.

Breathe.

She touched her wrist where he’d held her.

It still felt warm.

Not possessive.

Not forceful.

Just certain.

And that certainty was terrifying.

Because he meant it.