Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs Chapter 1027: Fruits and Harem Man

Before reaching the main mansion, Maria's call reached me.

She expressed her desire for me to assist her in sharing time with her daughter while confirming the women hosting Luna suited her well.

A grin formed on my face while strolling the hallway, since of course Maria would consent in precisely that fashion.

Not via a plain 'yes,' or 'sure,' or 'okay.'

No.

Her agreement came disguised as a check-up.

A parent's careful check masquerading as the true drive—while the genuine urge lingered on that bed inside the black lace robe, contemplating the outcome if I'd approached her anew rather than exiting through the door.

Her unvoiced longing resided in the silences amid her statements—those tiny half-second hesitations when her breath caught, her detached voice softened momentarily before she reined it in sharply like a trooper standing at attention.

Now audible was a lady who had reassembled herself during the five harried minutes post-departure, now urgently feigning that the reconstructed form matched the initial one.

I permitted her that pretense. Certain thresholds remain propped without highlighting the traverser's chosen path.

Luna jumped me right after I shared the news.

Complete embrace with arms vise-tight round my neck, legs hooked round my hips, her full mass colliding forcefully enough to make me step back before I steadied her.

Her kiss struck midway through my sentence, words half-lost on my lips as she sealed them prior to completing her thought.

Returning the kiss, I suspended her there, feet swinging free, glasses tilted once more, that vivid glowing smile melded to mine as though injecting it into my veins.

A slight retreat allowed her gaze—bright, sparkling, probing—to hunt my features for the naughty secrets behind my feat.

Nothing from me.

Merely grinned. Eyes slitting, she pegged the grin instantly as cat-who-got-the-cream and chose another kiss over demanding details.

Her initial no to Paris stemmed from wanting day two with mother here, followed by lab immersion.

Mother priority one, research two, Peter's overseas venture a remote third on priorities sensible to all save the greedy fragment of me itching for her jet-bound.

Maria's arrival shifted things, lab deferred, Luna thrumming with delight owing naught to style spectacles or overseas spots, purely her avaricious hope coming true absent any request.

Unbeknownst to her, the toll it exacted—sliding robe, moistened gaze, throaty 'come right to me,' that door trek akin to wading flesh through drenched cement amid my cock's protests.

No necessity for her awareness. Such love unfolds offstage—the hushed bargains, savage concessions, dire selections crafting joy sans the joyful witnessing the foul gears churning.

The estate soon hummed with customary gorgeous orchestrated mayhem as three dozen women mobilized in unison.

Upstairs second level, Amanda and Vivienne clashed in earnest discourse on luggage restrictions. Charlotte patrolled foyer as field marshal, tablet gripped firm.

Madison ghosted beside me eventually—noiseless as mist—thrusting warm coffee my way.

'You need this,' she said.

'Thanks,' I replied.

Two hushed seconds appraising my visage. Silent, she pecked my cheek tenderly then glided off. Madison sought no accounts. She craved assurance and my expression delivered abundantly.

Eziel and Genevieve occupied Eziel's chamber when I arrived.

They reclined across Eziel's mattress—Genevieve legs folded versus headboard, Eziel propped nearby book in grasp evidently ignored.

Pausing doorway, I signaled seeking admittance, acting the gent cognizant chambers hold domains with infraction penalties.

This duo forged quick camaraderie as orbit females often did—linked via closeness, mutual encounters, tacit accord that same-man devotion spawned kin or foes. Sisters selected wordlessly.

Genevieve piped up at once, chin high, arms barred, stare provoking.

'Permission pending,' I noted pointing Eziel already chuckling. 'This being another's domain, entry rules fall to proprietor. Not visitor.'

Genevieve unleashed that adorable calculated pout—lip jutted devastatingly, eyes saucer-wide as if holidays revoked.

'Your game is clear. You’re scheming me into permanent residency for my private space to rule. But no.' She flung head theatrically. 'Nope.'

She then handed Eziel a fresh hundred-dollar bill.

ARIA was indebted to me. Now Genevieve was paying Eziel off for short-term control of the bedroom. My massive empire relied on real estate, quantum tech, and Liberation Funds' algorithmic trading—yet the harem's private economy thrived on cash payoffs and minor room politics.

"Eziel," Genevieve intoned with the solemnity of a world leader in high-stakes talks, "can I borrow your authority here for two minutes?"

Eziel snatched the bill, scrutinized it as though hunting fakes, and replied, "One. One minute. Not a second extra."

She activated her phone timer and positioned it on the nightstand, visible to all three of us as it ticked down.

I burst out laughing at the total ridiculousness. My world was a mad circus, populated by breathtaking clowns.

"Deal," Genevieve proclaimed. She rose from the bed, composed herself, cleared her throat, and delivered her words with the pomp of a herald reciting a king's edict.

"

She halted. Swiveled toward Eziel. Flashed a devious, drawn-out grin—the smirk of someone who'd schemed this moment for ten minutes minimum.

"That’s it! The deal is OFF!" Eziel announced, yanking her phone from the nightstand as if Genevieve had perpetrated treason against her personal bedroom realm.

Genevieve jabbed at the timer—still running, thirty-eight seconds to go—and shot back, "There are still forty seconds remaining and if you—" her finger whipped toward me, "—don’t enter this room and claim me as my man like the decree requires, you won’t touch me ever again."

I shook my head.

These women would surely end me, and I'd express my gratitude in the hereafter.

"Are you girls ready?" I inquired. "The van’s loaded and everyone’s waiting."

Genevieve pouted — a pout worthy of museum glass under a plaque reading Weapon of Mass Seduction — and then she pounced.

She rocketed from the bed like a spring-released projectile, feet abandoning the sheets, her form curving through the air at me with no prior alert and utter confidence I'd seize her.

I snatched her from the air. One arm scooping her thighs, the other securing her back, our whirl sending us spinning halfway around in the doorway. I kissed her while still in motion — intense, unyielding, savoring the mirth lingering on her lips —

Eziel observed from the bed, arms folded, timer dwindling, wearing a look that screamed my domain, my rules.

The timer struck zero. Eziel’s phone buzzed.

"Minute’s up," Eziel stated. "Get out of my room. Both of you."

Genevieve, nestled in my hold, twisted to Eziel and sent an air kiss. Eziel intercepted it, inspected it with identical feigned gravity as the bill, and tucked it away.

Eziel quipped, "Don't do anything I wouldn't."

I bore Genevieve from the room, never anticipating she'd request release. I made no such proposal.

We encountered three women in the hall — Aria, Lila, Brooke — each eyeing us, then exchanging glances, before striding on in silence.

The van awaited. Paris beckoned. The Ghost Mansion loomed.

And in the guest mansion somewhere, Maria stuffed a suitcase into which she'd never intended to pack, preparing for a voyage unplanned, heading toward a man she'd never meant to crave.