Downstairs, Phei poured the wine.
Red. Dark. Something obscenely expensive from Melissaâs private rackâhe didnât glance at the label, didnât need to.
He filled the glass with the same casual authority he used to fill anything else that needed filling: steady hand, no spill, the deep crimson rising slow and thick like blood in a vein, swirling lazily against the crystal before settling with a soft, viscous shimmer.
Water
for himself. Straight. No ice.
Cold enough to bite the back of his throat like frost.
He carried both glasses to the floor-to-ceiling window where Cassiopeia stoodâher back still to him, midnight silk clinging to every lethal curve like it had been
poured molten over her skin instead
of sewn
.
The city lights danced generously and lovingly across the fabric in dark, liquid ripples, turning her ass into something sculpted from shadow and sin: full, high, the kind of heart-shaped perfection that begged to be spread, slapped, bitten.
The dip of her waist was a cruel invitation, the flare of her hips a silent command to drop to your knees and worship.
He extended the wine glass to his side without turning his head.
Not rudeness.
Deliberate invitation:
stand beside me, look at what I see, share the view instead of staring each other down.
She took it.
Her fingers brushed hisâdeliberate, lingering, nails grazing the inside of his wrist just long enough to send a low, electric current straight to his body that made him nearly shiver, making his cock thicken and twitch against the seam of his trousers.
Because honestly... despite what she was here to do to him... the woman was freaking hot!
Then she pulled away, slow, letting the contact stretch like warm honey before it snapped.
He felt her eyes on the side of his faceâsteady, predatory, cataloguing every micro-expression, every flicker of pulse at his throat, the way his jaw flexed once when her perfume hit him: dark and alluring and the faint metallic tang of old power.
Phei didnât turn.
He looked out at the city.
Downtown Paradise sprawled ninety-eight floors belowâa glittering sprawl of light and geometry, towers like upthrust cocks, streets like veins pulsing gold.
The Hell River sliced through it all, black mirror reflecting the skyline upside-down, trembling, obscene in its perfection, as if the city itself were fucking its own reflection.
"Beautiful,
isnât it,
" he said. Not a question.
Cassiopeia didnât answer right away.
Her gaze stayed glued to his face.
"The most beautiful Iâve ever seen,"
she murmuredâand the words came out raw.
Too honest. Too unguarded.
Her voice slipped its leash for a heartbeat, landing somewhere younger, softer, surprised by its own truth.
She caught herself.
Blinked.
Dragged her eyes down to the city.
Took a slow sip of wine.
Her lips stained alluringly darker, glistening like fresh blood.
"Paradise," Phei said, rolling the name on his tongue like he was tasting her instead. "You would argue itâs the most beautiful place on Earth. And youâd be right."
Cassiopeia nodded once, slow. "After all, itâs where the real
rulers
live. The ones who pull strings the world never sees. The ones whose names never dirty Forbes or the Financial Timesâbecause
visibility defeats the purpose."
She swirled the wine as she watched it catch firelight on glass, the liquid clinging to the bowl in thick, lazy legs.
In this peace, she looked so beautiful and attractive at the same time
vulnerable
at some point although she hid it. Or maybe it was just Phei seeing it all.
In any other setting he wouldâve felt more drawn to her than he was already... if his soul wasnât on line here.
"The rest of the world thinks they understand wealth. Power. How things really work. But Paradise isnât what it seems. Its
existence itself a secret
. The Legacy families arenât what outsiders imagineâold money, philanthropy, generational trust funds. The world doesnât see..." She paused, voice dropping to velvet smoke. "...
whatâs underneath
."
Phei nodded. "Thatâs the beauty of it.
Ignorance keeps you safe
. The less you know, the longer you live. A bliss indeed as the saying goes."
The words landed light. Conversational. But they carried the weight of someone whoâd paid in blood, bruises, and nine years of having his name beaten out of his mouth until only silence remained.
Cassiopeia turned fully to him now.
"Then why did you do it?" Her voice was still velvet, but the steel underneath pressed closer to the skin. "Why clear the penthouse tonight?
Do you see me as a
threat
,
Phei?"
He chuckledâlow, warm, unbothered.
Turned to face her. Let her see his eyes: calm, amused, the eyes of a boy who wasnât intimidated by a woman in midnight silk who could kill with a rune or a glanceâor by wrapping those long legs around his waist and
riding
him until he forgot his own name.
"Why would I see you as a threat?" he said easily. "Youâre family."
He took a sip of water. Held her gaze over the rim, letting her watch the slow roll of his throat.
"I just figured you didnât fly across half the world for polite small talk and hugs. You
came
because you
want something from me
. And
whatever
that something isâ" He shrugged one shoulder, casual, cocky. "âI figured youâd feel
freer
to ask for it without
fourteen witnesses
watching every move."
He set his glass on the wide window ledge. Folded his arms across his chest. Smiledâslow, playful, edged.
"So. Youâve got days with me, Aunt Cassiopeia. No rush. No pressure. Whatever you need...
Iâm right here
."
She studied him. The calculation in her eyes was almost audibleâgears meshing, variables shifting, the quiet algebra of a woman deciding whether the boy in front of her was deliciously naive or quietly lethal.
He leaned in just a fraction. Dropped his voice to that low, intimate rasp that always made womenâs thighs clench and their cunts flutter on nothing.
"Also... I have to admit. I wanted to know what my
second-favourite
aunt wanted from me bad enough to show up unannounced." His smile turned
filthy-warm
. "And a few days felt like long enough to
unravel you
...
explore you
to every inch either with my hand, or mouth and tongue or just my cock or maybe all three... figure out exactly how much of that silk Iâm gonna have to
peel off
before you tell me the truthâ
or before youâre too busy
screaming my name
to speak."
They both laughed.
Hersâlow, surprised, genuine despite the predator beneath it. The laugh of a woman who kept finding the prey more entertaining than anticipated.
Hisâeasy, warm, the laugh of a boy whoâd just said something filthy and meant every fucking word.
Eiraâstill frozen in aftershocks, still reeling from Mayaâs impossible stareâchuckled faintly from whatever shadowed corner sheâd retreated to.
And she understood exactly what he was doing.
Phei wasnât
disarming
Cassiopeia with power displays. Not with Void-Ice. Not with those so much stats he had which were now x3 what he once had before awakening. Not with the system that let him shatter worlds.
He was
disarming
her with
flirtation.
Hiding behind the mask of what he appeared to be:
a horny, cock-led teenager
who couldnât look past the hot aunt whoâd brazenly grabbed his dick in front of the entire family an hour ago
.
A boy whose brain short-circuited at the sight of
full tits in silk
, long legs that promised to wrap around anything that moved, and an ass that jiggled just right when she walked.
Predictable.
Controllable.
Seducible.
The âdaysâ heâd just handed herâ
"take your time, no rush"
âwere
bait.
Designed to make her lower her guard.
To convince her she had space to maneuver, space to plot, space to wait for the perfect moment when he was
balls-deep
,
hips rolling
slow and deep, her cunt stretched thin and creamy around every veined inch, clit throbbing against his pubic bone, squirting in helpless arcs while she sobbed his nameâ
then draw the rune
, bind his soul, claim him while he was still panting, leaking thick ropes inside her, too blissed-out to notice the trap closing.
He knew the game.
And he was already three moves ahead.