Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 1114

Chapter 1114: The ’Normal’

Most mornings around Peter were chaos. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

’Beautiful chaos at least.’

This chaos that had its own grammar, its own punctuation, its own tells—and she had long ago appointed herself its private grammarian, the only one sober enough to diagram the sentences before they ended in screaming or sobbing or both.

She watched him from the long chair, one leg crossed over the other with a posture no man his age could perfect. Old money or not.

He was nurturing again. Always nurturing... cutting Rebecca’s steak into smaller pieces because she’d bitten her tongue one night—gallantly, Rebecca had called it, which was a tremendously generous word for what had actually been an enthusiastic accident involving too much enthusiasm and not enough coordination.

The inside of her mouth was still tender, poor lamb.

Refilling Linda’s tea before she’d even noticed the cup was empty.

Sliding the salt closer to Margaret without breaking conversation.

Asking Patricia if her back was bothering her in that quiet, particular way he asked things—the question itself a small held hand across the table, a question that had ruined, Soo-Jin estimated, at least four of the women in this room for any future man who might one day mistakenly attempt to court them.

Mortals were not built to recover from him. It was not a fair fight. One did not, as a rule, recover from being loved by a god who had decided to take notes.

Especially when those notes included annotated diagrams, timestamps, and a color-coded key for "preferred angles of approach."

’Breakfast. It was supposed to be just breakfast.’ But Soo-Jin had been watching long enough to know better.

The walks gave them away first. They always did. Vanessa had come down with that loose-hipped sway, her pelvis evidently rearranged overnight into a softer, more cooperative dialect of itself.

Emma—Emma was almost an embarrassment to herself, glowing the way only thoroughly fucked women glowed, cheeks flushed in those uneven pink patches that no skincare regimen on earth had ever produced and no influencer had ever successfully faked without ending up in a psychiatric hold.

Then there were the smiles. Those stupid, satisfied, can’t-quite-tuck-them-back-in smiles.

The way Celeste’s and Gabrielle and Ashby’s gazes kept sliding to Peter mid-sentence and then dropping, as though they’d remembered something deeply unholy mid-fork.

The way Madison’s hand kept drifting absently to the side of her own neck, checking for a wound she rather hoped was still there.

The way Vivienne sat down too carefully—Vivienne, who in any other context could be relied upon to fling herself into a chair like the world owed her the cushion and possibly a small tip.

’An orgy,’ Soo-Jin concluded. This morning.

Roughly two hours ago, give or take a tremor and one very enthusiastic round of applause from someone who should have known better.

He had, with the punctuality of someone running a small carnal railway, gathered all of them—’all of ’the originals—and seen to each of them inside a window so tight it almost qualified as athletic performance.

Linda, Patricia and Margaret had not joined either.

Pregnancy excluded all three by his rule, not theirs, and they had each complained about it in their respective registers—Linda with regal disappointment, Patricia with a wounded sigh she had not produced in years, Margaret with two sentences of profanity and a glare that could curdle milk at fifty paces—and the complaints had only made him stricter, which, Soo-Jin felt, was rather the point of complaining to Peter about anything.

You didn’t tell a wildfire it was burning too hot and expect it to dial it down.

’You just got out of the way or brought marshmallows.’

Ashley, the new girl, was not part of this either.

He had a whole quiet protocol for that—the slow drawing-in, the patience that none of his enemies would ever believe him capable of, on account of being too busy dying.

Or already dead. Depending on how the previous evening’s entertainment had concluded.

’But the rest. Yes. All of them.’

’Morning exercise.’

And it was exercise, in the strictly medical sense.

Sarah had not made it. Sleep had won, evidently. Reyna likewise, curled somewhere in a knot of duvet, missing the entire affair the way one might sleep through a small earthquake or a moderately enthusiastic apocalypse.

Or like the neighbor’s dog that kept digging up the garden but was too cute to shoot.

Maria lived her life by reading rooms and people’s bodies, and she was reading this one now, and she was—clearly, quietly—curious.

"Oi." A nudge of the elbow, sharp enough to be deliberate, soft enough to qualify as friendly.

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