CHAPTER 454: MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE

Chapter 454 – Mutually Exclusive

"The Avariel loved her," Rava said quietly, setting her fork down. "You could feel it. Guilt. Relief. Everything at once. They lost a daughter and found her in a world they barely understand."

Lux leaned back, listening. "You did well, Rava."

She looked up, eyes soft with something between pride and affection. "We did well too, Lux."

The wine glinted dark red in her glass, almost black under the chandelier’s warm golden hue. The table was half-cleared now—plates dotted with sauce smears and crumbs, the faint scent of roast herbs, garlic, and something buttery still lingering in the air.

Mira had finished first, of course—dragons didn’t linger with food unless it was gold-plated.

Naomi had taken her sweet time with the wine, calculating something even in relaxation.

Lullaby had finished half a croissant before curling up on the plush bench with her knees up, already fading into a food coma.

But Lux... he wasn’t quite done.

He set his glass down and tapped his fork lightly against his plate. The conversation lulled for a second, just enough space to slide in a new idea.

"I’m thinking," he said casually, "of hosting another event soon."

Naomi raised an eyebrow. "Another dinner?"

"More like a gathering," Lux said. "Housewarming. Goddess edition."

The room paused.

Lullaby blinked slowly, then nodded. "Mmm. You haven’t invited them here yet. Makes sense."

Rava tilted her head, curiosity blooming in her dark eyes. "You’re bringing them here?"

Mira set down her drink. "Which ones? Don’t tell me all of them."

"Not all," Lux said, smirking. "Just Celestaria, Solara... and Selena."

Even Lullaby stirred at that, her eyes barely open but clearly interested.

Naomi leaned back in her chair, tapping a nail against the rim of her glass. "I can’t imagine it. Goddesses in this house? With all the chaos we bring?"

Rava exhaled. "It’s a good PR move though. Optics. Stability. You’re painting this mansion as neutral ground."

"Exactly," Lux said. "The Vault is already infernal-coded. But this place... this is where negotiations happen. Where peace is brokered."

"And where women flirt with you over foie gras," Naomi added, dry.

"Not mutually exclusive," Lux murmured.

Mira folded her arms, her brows drawn slightly. "And you’re sure this won’t backfire?"

He met her gaze. "I’m counting on it."

But then—Sira.

She hadn’t said a word. Just sat there, her expression growing more unreadable by the second. She wasn’t sipping wine. She wasn’t making a quip.

She was silent. And that meant something was simmering.

Lux turned to her slowly. "What’s wrong?"

Sira’s jaw flexed once before she spoke. "I’m not a fan of goddesses."

He tilted his head. "I know."

"They’re too clean," she added, voice sharp with disdain. "Too polished. I get it—it’s your PR move or whatever, and I’m not gonna oppose it. But still..."

He opened his mouth to respond, but she raised a hand.

"You don’t need to say a thing."

Her eyes met his across the table—bright, calculating, annoyed. But not irrational. Just... charged.

"I get it," she said, her voice softening just enough. "I do. You’re building bridges. Trying to not get blasted from orbit next time someone catches you breaking the rules."

He gave her a slow, understanding nod. "It’s not just PR. But yeah. It’s strategy."

"I know."

Silence again.

Then she added, quietly, "We’ll talk again. In my room."

He blinked. "Just talk?"

Sira’s lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. More like a warning. Her gaze flicked toward Naomi. Then Rava.

"Tonight," she said, "you’re not mine. But it won’t be just a talk."

The words hit different. Not angry. Just... resigned. And maybe a little possessive, in that Pride-born way of hers.

Naomi, of course, looked entirely unbothered—cool as ice, swirling her drink.

Rava didn’t even glance up, just calmly dabbing her lips with a napkin like a woman who knew her contributions were appreciated in many ways.

And Lux?

He sighed. Deeply.

"Fine," he muttered, poking at his food again. "We’ll talk later."

He took a bite of grilled eggplant, chewed, swallowed, and let out another breath.

"Good thing I’m half incubus," he grumbled under his breath. "Or I’d be dry already."

Rava’s eyes flicked to him, amused. "You sure you’re not already?"

"I’m running on stock reserves," Lux said. "Premium vintage."

Mira actually snorted. "Poor CFO. Managing a harem and a PR crisis. How tragic."

"Don’t tempt me to issue pink slips," Lux muttered, stabbing a piece of steak.

Sira’s foot pressed against his under the table. Just lightly. Like a reminder. Or a claim.

"I’m not mad," she said, softly enough that only he could hear. "I just don’t like sharing my arena."

"I know," Lux replied, equally quiet. "But sometimes you win more by sharing the table."

"Only if you flip it after dessert," she murmured.

He didn’t answer that.

But he didn’t deny it either.

The meal went on.

Naomi poured another round of wine.

Mira asked if they had any desserts that weren’t made of seafoam or pearl dust.

Lullaby mumbled something about ice cream and promptly fell asleep sitting upright.

And Lux?

He ate. He watched. He listened.

He was surrounded by power—by beauty, by cunning, by ambition and pride and chaos and comfort.

And he knew one thing.

This housewarming?

Would be anything but warm.

Dinner had settled into quiet, leftover smiles and clinking forks, the air fragrant with grilled butterfish, wine, and whatever perfume Sira had decided to weaponize tonight.

Lux had played the part—host, diplomat, half-incubus therapist to a table full of hot, politically volatile women. And yeah, nobody threw a wine glass. Nobody got seduced under the table. That counted as success, right?

Barely.

By the time the plates were cleared and the girls had dispersed—some to their rooms, some still chatting in the lounge—Lux had slipped out the side hallway, fingers tugging at his collar. His feet were bare, silent on the heated tiles, his mind buzzing. Not with anxiety, no. With something worse.

Anticipation.