Chapter 568: The Montgomery Dinner

Melissa looked incredibly beautiful behind the wheel.

The black dress clung to every curve, so thin and tight that the faint outline of her stiff, still-swollen nipples pressed visibly against the fabric—remnants of the way Phei had

sucked

and bitten them raw just before they left. Her hair was swept back in a sleek ponytail, exposing the elegant column of her throat and the faint purple hickey blooming just beneath her jawline—his mark, his claim, his woman.

"I’m surprised you agreed to this," she said, eyes fixed on the winding road lined with ancient oaks.

Phei shrugged, leaning back in the passenger seat while hanging up his phone.

"Why?"

"Coming here. Meeting her parents?" A small, knowing smile curved her lips. "It’s very... traditional. Almost like you’re asking for their

approval."

He laughed low.

"We both know I’m not."

"Do we?"

"Sierra asked me to meet them. So I’m meeting them." He watched the trees blur past. "The results don’t matter. Whether they like me or not—

she’s mine.

They won’t stop that."

Melissa’s smile widened, dark and amused. "Aggressive... I see."

"Honest."

"Same thing with you."

"I don’t care about other people’s judgment," he said quietly. "But my women’s judgment? That matters. I know I’ll do right by them.

I’ll take responsibility when I fuck up

. Their happiness means everything to me." He shrugged. "So why would I back off just because some parents who’ve seen me once and only heard about me from rumours think they get to decide if I’m right for their daughter?"

Melissa laughed softly. "You know that’s basically how this works, right? Meet the parents. They approve or disapprove based on their shallow understanding. That’s the

ritual."

"Exactly why

I won’t care about their shallow perspectives. Time will show them how right or wrong they were. Until then—" He smiled, slow and dangerous. "—I’ll help them see how my world works. This is a formality. But if they’re nice, I won’t be an asshole."

"And if they’re not nice?"

"Then I’ll be myself."

"That’s worse."

"For them,

yes."

She glanced at him, eyes sparkling with wicked delight. "Whose daughter would you take with that blute-force approach?"

"If the father doesn’t understand..." Phei’s smile sharpened into something predatory. "I’ll make sure the mother’s on my side. In my own way."

Melissa laughed—low, knowing, and filthy. "So that’s plan B? If blute force doesn’t work?"

"That’s the second plan after blute force. I don’t have a plan B. This will be a success."

"A success that ends with Roxanne Montgomery

riding the same cock

as her daughter?"

"You know me so well."

He caught her chin, turned her face toward him even though she was driving, and kissed her—deep,

possessive,

his tongue sliding in to claim her mouth completely, not caring about the road or the massive iron gates swinging open ahead.

She kissed him back for three reckless, hungry seconds, moaning softly into his mouth, before pulling away breathless, lips glossy and swollen.

"You’re going to get us killed."

"Worth

it."

The butler was ancient, impeccably professional, and addressed him as

"Master Tiamat."

Not Maxton.

Interesting.

"The family is expecting you in the dining room."

They followed.

The dining room was designed to intimidate.

Thirty-foot ceilings, a table set for five when it could comfortably seat twenty with crystal chandeliers casting cold, glittering light over everything.

At the head sat Jonathan Montgomery.

Forty-five or more. Silver threading through dark hair. A face that had once been handsome and was now something far harder—the kind that had destroyed careers and reshaped American law according to his will.

Head of Montgomery & Associates. The man whose firm ruled

second

in the world. The man with quiet judicial control over the entire United States.

Beside him—Roxanne Montgomery.

Forty-two and devastating. The kind of beauty that didn’t fade with age; it refined into something lethal.

High cheekbones and her full lips painted a deep wine red. Dark honey hair swept up to expose her elegant neck, her midnight-blue dress was conservative by Paradise standards, yet still clung to curves most women half her age would kill for—with her full

breasts

straining subtly against the fabric, a waist that dipped dramatically before flaring into wide, fertile hips that promised pure sin.

And across from them, pale and rigid with tension—

Sierra.

Melissa entered first.

The reaction was immediate.

Roxanne’s polished expression

cracked—a

flicker of pure,

ugly contempt

flashing across her face. Her lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes raked over Melissa with open disdain.

"Melissa."

The name dripped ice. "How... brave of you to show your face in polite company."

Melissa didn’t miss a single step, her smile calm and serene.

"Roxanne.

You look well. The work is holding up nicely."

It was a direct, vicious hit. Roxanne’s jaw tightened, a flush of humiliated anger creeping up her neck.

"I wasn’t aware they allowed—"

Roxanne paused, letting the silence swell with venom. "—your kind at family dinners these days."

"My kind?"

"Women

who

spread their legs

for their own nephews." Roxanne’s voice turned sweetly poisonous. "Tell me, dear, does it still count as family bonding when you’re on your knees for the boy you raised?"

The words landed like a slap.

Sierra flinched hard while Jonathan’s face remained carefully neutral—watching, calculating. And Melissa—

Melissa smiled.

Serene and unbothered. The smile of a woman who had faced far worse than the petty venom of a jealous Legacy wife and had never once broken.

"At least I’m

satisfied,

Roxanne."

Her voice was pure silk, laced with filthy satisfaction. "Can you say the same? Or does Jonathan still need

those little blue pills

to pretend he can keep up?"

Roxanne’s face went scarlet and twisted with fresh rage, her voice rising into a venomous hiss. "At least my husband doesn’t have to share me with a teenage. How does it feel knowing the only way you can get fucked properly is by riding your own nephew’s cock like some desperate whore?"

Then Phei stepped fully into the room.

And everything changed.

Jonathan felt it first.

The air thickened, pressure dropping like the moment before a violent storm. His sharp legal instincts screamed danger the instant his eyes landed on the young man walking toward the table.

Not a boy.

That was the first correction his mind made—automatic and deeply unsettling. Whatever was approaching his dinner table was not some

seventeen-year-old

charity case. The face was young, yes. Beautiful in a way that made Jonathan’s instincts flare with warning for his wife.

But this presence—

Jonathan had stood across from senators who controlled billions. He had faced down Supreme Court justices in private chambers. He had negotiated with men who could start wars with a single phone call.

None of them had ever made the room feel like this.

Looking

at Phei Ryujin Tiamat was like standing at the edge of an endless abyss, staring into something so vast and dark that the human mind couldn’t process its depth—could only register threat and power and do not challenge this.

Jonathan’s fingers tightened on his wine glass.

This is the boy who beat Harold Maxton. This is the boy the Maxtons tried to destroy—and they ended up forty percent poorer for it.

This is the boy my useless daughter chose

.

He swallowed hard, the taste of expensive wine suddenly bitter on his tongue. He didn’t know whether to be impressed or terrified.

Roxanne felt it differently.

The moment Phei entered, something stirred low in her belly—hot, liquid, completely unwelcome. Her breath caught. Her nipples tightened against the fabric of her dress, sudden and mortifying.

Between her thighs, a warmth bloomed that had nothing to do with the room temperature.

No.

She pressed her thighs together. Tried to focus on her disgust—the scandal, the taboo, the shamelessness of what he was doing with his own aunt just like Jonathan had instructed—

But her body wasn’t listening.

Her body was looking at the way he moved. The impossible grace. The amethyst purple eyes that seemed to see everything. The quiet, devastating confidence that rolled off him like heat from a fire.

He’s your daughter’s boyfriend. He’s seventeen. He’s disgusting.

Gods, the nerve of him to make me like this,

she thought, even as fresh slick soaked her panties. Her pussy clenched anyway. Slick gathered, embarrassing and unstoppable.

And Phei—

Phei’s

nostrils flared slightly. His eyes found hers. And he smiled.

He could smell it.

The sharp, unmistakable scent of a woman’s arousal cutting through the expensive perfume and the dinner preparations. Coming from the woman who had just called Melissa a whore. Coming from the mother of his girlfriend, who was sitting there with contempt on her face all while her panties getting wet just from the test of his presence.

Hypocrite.

He focused his abilities on her—Dominance Aura pulsing outward, and his lust abilities radiating in waves, everything he had aimed like a weapon at the woman who dared look at his Melissa with disgust.

Roxanne’s pupils dilated, her breathing went shallow.

The flush that had been anger transformed into something else entirely—spreading down her neck, disappearing beneath her neckline. Her

nipples

were visible now, straining against the midnight blue, and her thighs pressed together so hard the muscles in her legs trembled.

She looked away first.

Good.