Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 719

Chapter 719: Hot Lingeries

Since that moment in the car—since she’d called him Master and then immediately had a complete meltdown about what that meant—Ashley had done everything possible to avoid him. Played the perfect role of Madison’s loyal friend who definitely didn’t have deeply complicated feelings about her friend’s boyfriend.

Smiled and laughed and acted totally normal while pretending that Rolls-Royce-confession had never fucking happened.

Peter hadn’t pushed. Had respected the boundary she’d drawn when she’d texted asking for time to process. Had acted like the whole thing was forgotten, like they could go back to being friendly acquaintances who occasionally made small talk at group events.

But he sure as fuck hadn’t been sitting around doing nothing.

No.

He’d been planning. Carefully. Meticulously. Building the perfect trap in the perfect location for the perfect moment to end this bullshit silence and show Ashley exactly what happened when you stopped running from truths that terrified you.

Soon.

The plan was happening soon.

But first—Helena.

Peter hit his bedroom and went straight for the closet. He needed to transform. Needed to look like Eros.

He pulled on dark jeans, a black button-down tailored so perfectly, added the Patek Philippe that whispered "generational wealth" without saying a fucking word. Checked the mirror.

Keys. His Quantum Watch was on, he got a phone too. The AMG One was waiting in the garage—millions of fuck you on wheels.

Peter headed back. Linda looked up from organizing canned goods like they’d personally offended her, smiled that mom smile that still managed to hit him right in the chest despite everything.

"Heading out, baby?"

"Business meeting." Not technically a lie. "Won’t take long."

"Drive safe." She crossed over, reached up to fix his collar in that automatic mom gesture. "And eat something since you’re bailing on my meals."

He smiled despite still being half-hard and frustrated. "Sorry, and I will, Mom."

She kissed his forehead—quick, innocent, completely unaware that five minutes ago he’d been imagining bending her over the counter. "Love you, my Love." that came out without minding Jasmine.

"Love you more my Empress."

****

The garage door closed with a low, mechanical rumble, sealing the world outside. The AMG One came alive with a sound that made thinking impossible and adrenaline mandatory—a feral, turbulent roar, engine snarling, vibrating through the chassis, Peter’s bones, his soul.

Peter pulled out, felt the car respond to his hands like it could read his fucking mind, tires gripping asphalt, acceleration a visceral punch, G-forces pinning him back.

Celestial Grand was thirty minutes away.

Helena had been cooling her heels for hours, pacing, fuming, her empire in ruins.

By the time he got there, she’d be ready to negotiate.

And Peter was exceptional at negotiations that involved beauties alone with her in a presidential suite.

Especially the kind where the other person thought they had cards to play but had actually been checkmated three moves ago and just didn’t know it yet, their defeat inevitable, his victory sealed.

LA scrolled past in afternoon gold—polluted and beautiful and perfect in all its contradictions, sunlight glinting off glass towers, smog haze, palm trees swaying, traffic a chaotic symphony.

Beautiful.

He grinned as the hotel appeared ahead—all glass and marble and the kind of place where rich people went to feel important while pretending they weren’t just as fucked up as everyone else, facade gleaming, valets in crisp uniforms.

He shifted into his Eros disguise.

The AMG One pulled up to valet. The attendant’s jaw literally dropped, eyes wide, staring at the hypercar, its carbon fiber curves, glowing taillights.

First—Helena.

Then Ashley.

Then Ms. Chen’s answer tomorrow.

Then whatever fresh disaster came next.

Being a teenage god was fucking exhausting.

But someone had to do it, right?

Peter handed his keys to the star-struck valet and was halfway to the lobby doors when his watch vibrated, a sharp buzz against his wrist.

Not a text. A video call.

From Priya’s number.

He stopped, thumb hovering over the accept button, heart kicking. Priya never called. She texted in carefully constructed sentences that took her five minutes to compose because she’s a perfectionist beautiful lawyer she wanted everything perfect, precise, poetic.

A video call meant something was happening, urgent, unplanned.

He accepted.

The hologram screen pulled up and instantly filled with three faces—Patricia, Priya, and Janet—all crowded together like they were staging an intervention. Except interventions didn’t usually feature black lace, red silk, and the kind of lingerie that made his dick forget it had been frustrated two minutes ago, cock twitching, blood rushing south.

"Oh fuck, me!" He breathed, voice low, stunned.

"Hello, darling," Patricia purred, and even through the phone her voice carried that CEO-motherly authority mixed with bedroom promise, sultry, commanding, a shiver down his spine. She was wearing something black and barely there, all strategic lace and revealed skin, cleavage spilling, nipples faintly visible through sheer fabric, thighs framed in garters.

Priya leaned into frame next to her, dark hair spilling over bare shoulders, wearing red that contrasted beautifully against her brown skin, silk clinging, curves accentuated, a teasing glimpse of hip.

"We are your business," Priya interrupted, and the firm tone in her voice made his cock immediately stand to attention, throbbing, straining. "You promised us time. You have not delivered. So we are delivering ourselves." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Peter ran his free hand through his hair, frustration, arousal warring. "You’re serious."

**

In lingerie.

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