Chapter 909: To Hollywood

I looked down at Rory’s sleeping face—cheeks smushed against my chest, tiny mouth open in that perfect

"O"

of toddler oblivion, one little fist still clutching my shirt like she’d signed a lease and wasn’t giving up the security deposit.

Then I looked out the window at Hollywood approaching—the billboards screaming promises nobody believed, the palm trees doing their best LA

supermodel impression

(tall, expensive, slightly plastic)

, and that specific kind of beautiful ugliness only this city can produce: g

lamour so thick it leaves skid marks.

We were here for

Lila.

My dancer still had dreams about her old world. Not the good kind—the Dex-family kind. The kind that woke her up gasping, clawing at sheets, eyes wild with the dreams of a party where everyone knew what was going to happen to her except her.

She was still healing.

Getting stronger every day. But the old world still had threads attached—legal ties, financial entanglements, the bureaucratic wreckage of a life built on someone else’s

fucked-up

foundation.

I was going to cut every last thread. Today. Before things got busy—before Celeste’s auction consumed my attention, before the

Trillion

mission demanded my focus, before Paris pulled me across an ocean like a particularly expensive magnet.

Lila deserved a clean break.

A fresh start.

A world where Dex was a name she’d eventually forget instead of a shadow she couldn’t escape.

My Soo-Jin

drove. Efficient. Silent. Eyes scanning mirrors with the professional paranoia of someone who’d been trained to expect violence from every direction—including the rearview reflection of a five-year-old drooling on her boss’s chest.

Luna sat shotgun, scrolling through something on her phone, occasionally glancing back at me with soft eyes that said she wanted to climb into my lap but understood that position was currently occupied by a

sleeping terrorist

with excellent grip strength.

Lila sat near me. Close. Thigh against mine. Her hand resting on my knee—light, tentative, the touch of a woman who was still learning that she was allowed to reach for things she wanted without flinching.

She was watching Rory sleep.

Something in her expression—raw, unguarded, aching—told me she was thinking the same thing I’d been thinking all day:

Family. Children. The things that made gods feel human. (And occasionally made them question every life choice that led to this exact moment.)

Before I’d left the estate, I’d made sure to handle one more thing. The women who weren’t mine—Vanessa, a few others orbiting without belonging to my bed—had graciously given us three hours of privacy without realizing what they were giving us time for.

Three hours. A full harem orgy

. Every woman except the four who couldn’t participate:

Patricia

and

Margaret,

currently comatose in the guest mansion looking like abstract art made of cum and exhaustion;

Linda,

resting with our baby like the saint she pretended not to be; and

Sarah,

who was still too sore from night ago to do anything more strenuous than blush and plot revenge via passive-aggressive breakfast commentary.

Everyone else? Fair game. And I’d used those three hours the way a god should—releasing every ability, utilizing every everything, fucking my women with the full, unrestricted force of what I was.

No holding back. No managing output.

Just pure, overwhelming, system-enhanced devastation delivered to twenty-plus women who’d been starving for exactly that.

They were probably still recovering. Some of them definitely weren’t walking either.

I am what I am.

But now—now it was Hollywood. Now it was Lila’s liberation.

"You know what pisses me off?"

Reyna’s voice came from my left shoulder. Where she’d been sleeping. Until she apparently decided that unconsciousness was less important than complaining.

She hadn’t lifted her head. Still using my shoulder as a pillow, eyes half-closed, voice muffled against my sleeve. But awake enough to be annoyed, which for Reyna was basically her

factory setting

.

"How can you just leave your new woman out and go gallivanting to some Mansion without me? Hmm? I just got here. I

JUST

got added to this insane circus you call a love life. And instead of—I don’t know—spending quality time with the newest member of the harem, you’re dragging me on a road trip to deal with some dancer’s ex-boyfriend drama."

"Dex isn’t her ex-boyfriend. He’s her—"

"I don’t

CARE

what he is, Peter. Okay... I care about her. The

POINT

is that I had you for one night.

ONE

. And then you went and fucked two MILFs for three hours, ran a whole orgy I only got like twenty minutes of because

SOMEONE

decided to rotate through twenty women like a goddamn Costco sample station—"

"You got way more than twenty minutes. and I literally helped you come inside the car... you’re limping."

"—and

NOW

I’m in a car going to Hollywood when I could be in bed.

YOUR

bed. Where you

SHOULD

be. Spoiling me. Like a new girlfriend

DESERVES

."

Luna glanced back from the passenger seat, lips twitching. Soo-Jin’s eyes found the rearview mirror. Even Lila was hiding a smile behind her hand—small, real, the kind she’d been producing more and more since moving into the estate.

"Reyna."

"What."

"You just missed my dick."

She was quiet for exactly one second.

"I can’t

disagree

with that."

The car erupted. Luna snorted so hard she almost dropped her phone. Lila actually laughed—full, real, the kind of laugh that made her whole face light up like she’d forgotten she was allowed to. Soo-Jin’s professional composure cracked just enough for the corner of her mouth to betray her like a traitor in a spy movie.

They were used to her not-so serious tantrums.

She was just that harmless.

Reyna still hadn’t lifted her head from my shoulder. "But it’s not

JUST

the dick. It’s the whole package. The

spoiling.

The

attention.

The way you make a girl feel like she’s the only woman in the world even though she’s literally number twenty-nine on the roster."

"Twenty-nine sounds bad when you say it like that."

"It

IS

bad. It’s insane. I’m dating a man with twenty-nine girlfriends, a pregnant mother, a goddess AI, and a five-year-old who calls him GodMan currently drooling on his chest." She paused. "

My life choices are questionable.

"

"And yet."

"And yet here I am. On your shoulder. Going to Hollywood." She nuzzled deeper into my sleeve—aggressive, proprietary. "

You’re lucky you’re pretty

."

"I’m lucky I’m a lot of things."

"Don’t push it."

Rory shifted on my chest—still asleep, unbothered by the chaos happening around her. Reyna’s hand came up and gently—surprisingly gently, for a woman who’d just delivered a five-minute roast of my entire lifestyle—brushed a curl away from Rory’s face.

"She’s cute though," Reyna murmured. "The kid. I’ll give you that."

"She’s a

terrorist

with

curls."

"Takes one to know one." Reyna closed her eyes again. "Wake me up when we get there. And Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time you fuck two MILFs for three hours, I better be number three. I didn’t sign up for this harem to be left out of the threesomes."

"Noted."

"Noted isn’t yes."

"Yes, Reyna."

"That’s what I thought." She was asleep again in seconds. Just like that. Argument delivered. Terms established. Unconscious.

This woman was going to be a problem. The best kind of problem.

Rory on my chest. Reyna on my shoulder. Lila at my side. Luna and Soo-Jin up front. Hollywood approaching through the windshield—billboards and palm trees and the specific beautiful ugliness only LA could produce.

A bullied kid from Lincoln Heights with a sleeping angel on his chest, a chaotic bartender on his shoulder, a rescued dancer at his side, and the future growing inside three women who loved him.

Let’s see what this city’s got.

First time in

Hollywood.