Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 736

Chapter 736: When Security Nearly Throws Out A Teenage God

"Oh, one more thing, Master."

"Yeah?"

"You are going to be extremely annoyed when you try to enter."

I frowned. "Why."

"Sable didn’t tell her security team you were coming," ARIA said sweetly. "She assumed you’d just... walk in. Like a normal person. As if you don’t exist in a completely different category of problem."

"What?"

"Her mistake," ARIA said brightly. "You’ll see. It’s going to be hilarious."

"For who?"

"For me."

"ARIA—"

"Have fun!"

She went quiet, but I could feel her attention hovering like a smug god.

I pulled into the executive level of Rivera Next Media’s parking structure and parked between a Rolls-Royce Phantom and a Bentley Continental.

I killed the engine, checked my reflection.

Black Henley. Dark jeans. White Converse. Hair perfect. Stubble at that dangerous halfway point between clean-cut and bad decision.

I looked good. Always did.

Time to see Sable.

The elevator ride down was silent, smooth, expensive. Just me and architecture designed to intimidate people with less money.

The doors opened.

Glass. Steel. Marble. The kind of lobby that screams we matter in capital letters.

Security desk dead ahead. Two guards. Former military energy. Bored faces. Power-trip posture.

I walked up. "I’m here to see Sable Rivera."

The older one—buzz cut, eyes already dead—scanned me. Henley. Jeans. No suit. No badge. No visible deference.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Yes."

"Name?"

"Eros."

He typed. Paused. Frowned. Typed again. Frowned harder.

"I don’t see you on the schedule."

"I texted her an hour ago. She confirmed."

"I don’t see you on the schedule," he repeated, looking up. "If you’re not on the schedule, I can’t let you through."

I felt irritation spark. "Call her office."

"Sir, if you don’t have an appointment—"

"I just told you I do," I said flatly. "Call. Her. Office."

The second guard—muscles, posture, that please give me a reason look—stepped forward. "Sir, you need to leave. Now."

"I’m not leaving. I have a meeting with Sable Rivera. Call her and confirm."

"We don’t have you in the system," Buzz Cut said, standing. "That means you’re not authorized to be here."

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

And I had the sudden, sinking realization that this was about to become a very educational moment—for everyone involved.

"Sir," Muscles said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Leave. Or we’ll escort you out."

The touch did it.

That casual, presumptive hand on my shoulder — like I was a problem to be managed instead of a force to be respected — snapped something loose. The irritation that had been simmering finally crossed a threshold and became something colder, older, and much more dangerous.

I hadn’t meant to let it out.

Didn’t decide to.

Didn’t even think about it.

The aura simply unfolded.

Not Lust Presence. Not attraction. Not desire.

This was the other one.

The one you don’t show unless you’re done pretending to be polite.

The lobby changed.

Nothing dramatic. No lights flickering. No cinematic bullshit. The temperature didn’t drop, but suddenly everyone felt like it had. The air didn’t get heavier, but breathing became harder anyway. Space itself seemed to lean away from me, like the building had suddenly remembered that it was just a structure and I was something else entirely.

Predator.

Threat.

Authority without permission.

Muscles’ hand fell away from my shoulder like he’d touched a live wire. His eyes went wide, pupils blown, instincts screaming at him faster than his training could catch up. He staggered back a step, then another, body reacting before pride could interfere.

Buzz Cut went pale. His hand hovered near his radio, then stopped — not because he didn’t think to call for help, but because something deep in his brain told him that escalation was a bad idea.

And the rest of the lobby?

They felt it.

A receptionist froze mid-keystroke, fingers locked above the keyboard, staring at me with an expression caught between fascination and fear. A man in a tailored suit near the elevators stopped walking entirely, briefcase dangling uselessly from his hand, eyes fixed on me like I was a wild animal that had wandered indoors by mistake. A young woman near the wall pressed herself back against the marble, one hand clamped over her mouth, breath shallow.

This aura didn’t make people want me.

It made them understand.

On a level below language. Below rational thought.

That I was something they should not fuck with.

"Call Sable Rivera," I said.

"Ms. Rivera? We have a... situation. There’s an Eros in the lobby claiming he has a meeting. He’s not in the system and—"

"No."

Real laughter. Rich, delighted, I-won laughter.

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