Chapter 38 – I'm a Giver
Lux rolled his eyes and wandered toward the croissants and espresso bar. Naomi followed a moment later, and they started grabbing plates.
That's when the System chimed again.
[Proximity alert. Multiple high-value targets detected. Status: Observation Mode.]
[Identities: Mira Xianlong. Fiera Ninevyn. Rava Bluewave. Elyndra Vireleth.]
[All within range. Attempting casual camouflage. Performance rating: Low.]
Lux blinked. "Wait… they're here?" He thought they all had already left last night.
He looked up, eyes scanning the VIP section discreetly.
And yeah.
Oh yeah.
There they were.
Mira, in sunglasses and seated behind two of her enormous bodyguards, like she was directing a mob sting.
Fiera? Lounging near a fake potted plant with a smoothie and pretending to read a financial magazine upside down.
Rava wore a hoodie, sunglasses, and was drinking something violently blue with a straw shaped like a tentacle. She had her phone in one hand and was aggressively not looking at him.
Elyndra?
Just… standing by the window, back straight, arms folded, looking like she was posing for a cursed perfume ad.
"What… are they doing?" Lux muttered.
Naomi glanced up from her plate. "What?"
"Nothing," he said quickly.
Then his eyes flicked again.
Not just the girls.
No.
Every woman in the restaurant.
Every waitress.
Every barista.
Even the hotel's finance manager, who just walked in for a budget meeting, gave him a look.
The kind of look that said 'Are you single? Are you hiring? Are you safe?'
Lux blinked again. 'System… explain.'
[You just had sex. Like, six times in a row. Your incubus pheromones are currently at peak saturation.]
'…How much?'
[350%.]
He cringed.
'Oh. That explains the nosebleed the barista just had.'
[Correct.]
'Not subtle, huh?'
[You are a walking, pheromone bomb. If you make eye contact with any more people, this entire floor may collectively experience a group fantasy.]
He exhaled. Steadied himself.
"Whatever. If I can make them orgasm by standing here, let it be charity. I'm a giver."
He grabbed a croissant. Poured himself a second coffee.
Then strutted back to his table like the demon prince of brunch, unfazed by the fact that half the restaurant was currently plotting to fall in love or kidnap him—or both.
Naomi blinked as he sat.
"…You were gone for like two minutes."
"I caused three mild awakenings and a fainting spell," he said casually, biting into the croissant.
Naomi paused.
Then nodded once.
"…I'm weirdly proud."
Lux grinned again.
Of course she was.
He went back to buttering his croissant like he wasn't currently lighting this entire five-star lobby on fire with his pheromones alone.
Naomi sipped her tea.
They ate. Lux had three kinds of pastries stacked on his plate like some kind of carb-loving dragon hoarding sugar.
Naomi had fruit, toast, and dignity. They made a great team.
Then Lux casually glanced at the large flatscreen TV mounted on the wall by the juice bar.
It was on some 24-hour news cycle. Big, dramatic music. Some uptight anchor in a suit talking like the world was always five minutes from ending. Lux wasn't paying full attention—until he heard it.
"—Naomi Delacour has not been seen since yesterday evening."
He blinked.
Sipped his coffee.
Looked back at the screen.
The headline burned across the bottom in aggressive red and gold letters:
BREAKING: HEIRESS KIDNAPPED? Delacour Heiress Disappears After Breaking Off Engagement with Virellion's family.
Lux nearly choked on his espresso.
The screen flashed with older photos of her—smiling at galas, exiting limos, posing in magazines.
Then a live shot of her father's estate. Reporters everywhere. Paparazzi being shoved back by guards.
Lux stared at the screen, then turned his gaze very slowly toward the woman across the table.
Naomi.
Still sipping her tea.
He arched a brow.
"Did you say anything to your family that you were staying with me last night?"
Naomi blinked.
"…Oh no."
"You haven't said anything."
She looked down at her toast. Guilty silence.
"Technically… I texted my attorney yesterday."
Lux's stare didn't soften. "And?"
She squinted. "My phone's dead."
Lux dragged a hand across his face. "Naomi."
"In my defense, Carson took my main phone."
Lux nearly stood.
"And the one I used to text them," she added quickly, "was my backup. I rarely charge it."
He rubbed his temples.
"And also," she said, voice dropping an octave, "we were having sex nonstop since like... yesterday evening?"
He exhaled.
"Right."
She folded her hands neatly in her lap like a nun trying not to burst out laughing.
"Okay," Lux said, "we're gonna fix this."
"Yes, we should definitely fix this."
"You need to contact your family now."
"Yes, absolutely."
But fate?
Fate didn't wait for texts.
Because right then— The doors opened.
And in walked a whole squad of hotel security, followed by three police officers in full morning grump mode, and then—
Him.
Tall. Middle-aged. Commanding presence. Tailored suit so expensive it probably had its own offshore account. Hair slicked back. Jaw clenched.
Watch? Gold.
Cufflinks? Family crest.
Aura? An angry father.
Lux recognized the type instantly.
Billionaire. Old money. Probably ran half the city.
And pissed.
Naomi stood up slowly.
Her tea left forgotten on the table.
"…Dad," she whispered.
The man's gaze snapped to her, sharp as knives.
He stormed forward, crossing the marble floor like a boardroom executioner.
"Naomi Delacour," he said, voice like thunder dipped in silk. "Do you have any idea what kind of chaos you've caused?"
She winced. "I do now."
He didn't even acknowledge Lux. Not yet. Too focused on his daughter.
"We've had the police, the lawyers, three journalists, and your grandmother on the phone since midnight. Do you know what time it is now?"
Lux raised a hand casually. "Technically it's still breakfast."
Naomi's father turned.
Looked at him.
Finally.
And stared.
Lux gave him the laziest, cockiest, shirt-unbuttoned-too-low kind of smile.
"Hi," he said. "I'm Naomi's boyfriend."
The man stared.
A stare like he'd just caught the family dog chewing on a Rolex.
Naomi cleared her throat quickly. "Dad, this is—"
"Lux Vaelthorn," Lux interrupted smoothly, rising from his seat with the kind of casual arrogance only possible when you knew your bank account could destabilize a small nation.
He offered a hand, crisp, precise, and wildly unnecessary, because of course Naomi's father wasn't going to shake it.