Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 727

Chapter 727: The Voss Black Sheep

He walked past her into the suite like she was furniture that had already been paid for, taking in the space with the lazy, proprietary scan of someone doing a routine check on something that belonged to him.

Which it did.

The whole hotel, actually—every floor, every room, every discreet camera angle tucked where lawsuits went to die—but Helena didn’t know that yet. And ignorance, in situations like this, wasn’t just a disadvantage. It was a limp he enjoyed watching people drag around while pretending they were fine.

The presidential suite was obscene. Not flashy-rich. Obscene-rich. Floor-to-ceiling windows dumped Los Angeles straight into the room, the city sprawled below like a glittering circuit board powered by cocaine, ambition, and terrible decisions. Furniture that cost more than jewelry. Leather so soft it felt illegal.

Marble and gold used sparingly, like punctuation marks for people who didn’t need to shout.

The bar was a quiet flex—liquor that required permits, favors, and people who didn’t put things in writing.

Single-malt scotch older than most marriages survived. Tequila distilled in volcanic caves by men who treated it like a sacrament. Vodka filtered through diamonds because excess had long since stopped being the point.

The room didn’t say money and power.

It said: watch your mouth.

Helena had been pacing.

He clocked it immediately. Couch cushions out of alignment, indented, shifted, never quite fixed. A water glass on the coffee table refilled too many times, condensation rings overlapping like anxiety fingerprints.

Faint scuffs in the carpet near the windows where her heels had pivoted, stalled, pivoted again.

Tiny tells.

Honest ones.

She’d been nervous.

Which was fucking adorable.

If adorable even applied to a woman like her and not dangerously beautiful, the kind of woman who used to end careers with emails that said "per my last message."

"I’ve been waiting for two days," Helena said, closing the door behind her with a soft click and following him into the living area. Her voice had that sharp, controlled edge people used when they were trying to claw back dominance through irritation—polished, irritated, but brittle underneath.

"I thought this was urgent."

"It was." Eros turned to face her, slow and unbothered. The movement pulled his shirt tight, fabric stretching just enough to show hard muscle underneath—muscles, sweat, heat, pheromones still clinging to him like a crime scene.

He saw her eyes track it.

Saw her notice before she could stop herself. Pupils dilating just a fraction too long before discipline snapped back into place like a snapped leash.

"For me," he said. "Your schedule? I don’t really give a fuck about."

The words didn’t explode.

They landed.

Helena’s spine went rigid. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." He turned away and went to the bar, poured himself whiskey from a bottle that cost four figures without bothering to check which one it was. Crystal decanter. Amber liquid. No ice. He didn’t offer her shit.

Just lifted the glass and let the silence ferment while he took a slow sip, throat working, Adam’s apple bobbing, the air thick with musk, sex, power—everything he carried with him whether he wanted to or not.

"You’re here because I told you to be here," he said calmly. "You came because you don’t have better options. So let’s skip the little theater where you pretend you have leverage and get straight to what happens next."

Silence.

Heavy. Pressurized.

He could feel her fury from across the room—cold, sharp, offended on a cellular level. The Ice Queen wasn’t used to being dismissed like an intern who’d missed the memo. Wasn’t used to walking into rooms where the game had already ended and she was just late to the funeral.

Too fucking bad.

He set the glass down—crystal clicking against marble—and finally looked at her.

And she felt it.

He watched her body betray her in real time. The tension crawling into her shoulders. The unconscious shift of her stance. Her breathing changing—subtle, but there. Chest rising, falling. Silk pulled tighter.

Nipples pressing harder against the fabric, piercings visible now that she wasn’t thinking about them.

A micro-adjustment of posture. Hips shifting. Thighs pressing together. Cunt clenching without asking permission.

Pure reflex.

The Taboo Aura doing its thing even without him leaning into it, even diluted by the fact that he’d just spent two and a half hours wrecking three other women—pussy, ass, milk, cream—still on his skin, in his blood, hanging in the air like a sin that hadn’t cooled yet.

And still—

"What do you want?" Helena’s voice had gone arctic again, that practiced boardroom frost sliding back over the woman whose cunt had just clenched involuntarily at the scent of him. "You already won. You torched my employers, salted the earth of my operations, left me with nothing but the clothes on my back and a reputation even mercenaries won’t touch. So what the fuck is left to pick at?"

"Your sister."

"Ava." The name dripped from her tongue like venom she’d been gargling for years, low and feral, teeth bared. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

"The one who’s currently warming my bed and wearing my marks. The one who picked me over dragging your traitorous ass back to Langley in a body bag. The one who helped me gut Dmitri while you were busy auditioning for the next sugar-daddy warlord who might still answer your desperate little calls."

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify