Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire Is On Vacation Novels & Stories

Just clenched her fists tighter. "What’s your name?" Her voice cracked. "Sarah." I stared at her. Her eyes welled with tears... and for the first time in a long time, my heart did something strange. It twisted. "I... I want to leave," she whispered. "Please. Just take me away from here." I hesitated. Then nodded. "Yeah. I’ll get you out of here." Jackson drove us off, the city shrinking behind us. I’ve lived a double life for years... CEO by day, mafia lord by night. I’ve never mixed business with sentiment. Never cared.

After a brief conversation with Grandma Glenda, which ended in me getting a new job offer, aka the role of Rosen's shiny new Director, I was too exhausted to keep up appearances for the night. I'm half tempted to find Devon, drag him off to a bathroom and have sex with him. Take a picture. Or a video. Send it to my husband just to spite him. The temptation is real, but my feet hurt, and I honestly need to rest. Also, he doesn't fuck married women. Without saying goodbye to Daphne or anyone, I leave the gallery and take a cab straight to Grandma Glenda's mansion. I'm sure Carter can find some entertainment for the night.

Her curiosity argued with her fear. Finally, she picked up the napkin, the neat handwriting sending a cold wave of fear all over her body, "Alexander Steele. Steele Enterprises." The name sent a jolt of recognition in Emily’s head. Alexander Steele, the billionaire CEO whose ruthless business tactics were legendary. And here she is, a small-town café worker, about to be entangled in the world of this powerful, intimidating man all because of a spilled Black espresso coffee!. Her phone started ringing on the counter, startling her. It was Mark, probably calling with another apology that wouldn't clear up the betrayal she felt. Emily switched off her phone.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then a voice spoke up. "The youngest Billionaire who thinks he can have all he wants," the voice said. "I have your...no, our precious damsel here with me. Hold up! I think I need to rephrase that; I've got my pretty damsel which you stole from me," he said, laughing out loud. James's heart stopped, and he felt a wave of fear wash over him. "Who the hell is this and what do want you want?" James demanded, trying to keep his voice steady. The voice on the other end of the line just laughed.

The script is painfully simple: every strong man here will eventually die as a stepping stone, and every pretty woman—including our taken Succubus—will be magically brainwashed into his harem. What a tragic, predictable script, I muse. Good thing I don't care. I'm just here to make money. --- Room 306 is spacious. It features a shared living room, a kitchenette, two private bathrooms, and two bedrooms. I open my door. The room is immaculate—creamy white walls, a standard-issue bed with fresh sheets, and a desk. It doesn't need any cleaning. "Well," I say, turning to face Arlo. I clap my hands together. "Our contract is officially concluded. You are safely enrolled."

“G****e. He used to live in the One57 Billionaire Building, but he moved out of there and into a building on Park Avenue. His apartment is worth something like fifty million.” “Fifty million,” I gasp. “Are you serious? How could anything be worth fifty million dollars? That’s just crazy.” He shrugs. “Beats me. Must have gold toilets or something.” I laugh a little bit as I picture someone sitting on a gold toilet. Harper sits back down and gives me a shot of tequila. “Drink this, and then go and fuck him stupid.” “I’m not going,” I sharply tell her. “Well, what’s the plan of attack?” she asks. “Are you playing hard to get?”

Harper The penthouse was bigger than my entire childhood home. Marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, and silence so heavy it pressed on my chest. I’d moved in two days after signing the agreement. Fake fiancée for now. Wife soon. I stood in the massive closet they’d cleared for me, staring at clothes worth more than I’d ever earned. My real mission felt closer than ever, access to private servers, old contracts, everything. Yet every time I remembered that night with Damian, heat crawled up my neck.

He fingered her roughly, then fucked her hard in the moving limo, claiming her again and again until she was a sobbing, satisfied mess. Back home, he spent hours making love to her—slow, deep, passionate sex that left them both raw and emotional. “You’re mine forever,” he whispered as they came down from another climax. “Contract or not. I’m tearing up the escape clauses tomorrow.” Emma’s heart swelled. The ruthless billionaire was choosing her. But as they fell asleep, neither knew that Marcus Vale had already leaked documents to the press. The world was about to find out about their contracted marriage… and the real test of their love was just beginning.

“Ahhh. That explains the look on your face. Spill. Now.” I narrated everything to her, spilling my guts about what happened today. “WOW!” She exclaims, leaning back in her seat, taking a sip of her wine. “He’s interested in you.” “Then, he has a funny way of showing it.” “I live to see this hate unfold into something else,” she said, a mischievous light sparking in her eyes. Typical Anastasia. “Whatever.” I taunted her. “This guy is a billionaire, Demetria — not just running hotels and casinos here in L.A., but across states, across countries. He practically owns the playgrounds of the rich.”