CHAPTER 23: THE STIFF DINNER

Scarlet’s POV

The silk of my gown whispered against my skin as I descended the staircase, a simple column of emerald green that cost more than most people’s cars. Simple, but elegant. Understated, yet impossible to ignore. I’d chosen it precisely for that effect. It hugged my curves, leaving just enough to the imagination to make them desperate to see more. A slut seeks attention; a queen commands it.

Alfred, had delivered the message with his usual cold tone. The K-trio had finally decided to arrange a date. It’s perfect.

I adjusted the delicate waist beads beneath the silk, feeling their subtle, enchanted warmth against my skin.

The more time I spent in their presence, the stronger the enchantment would grow, weaving their perception, bending the mate bond from a flimsy illusion into an unbreakable reality.

Settling into the plush leather of the car, I exhaled, a slow, calculated smile gracing my lips. The driver merged into the flow of traffic, heading toward whatever lavish venue they’d selected.

A thrill coursed through me. This wasn’t excitement; it was the quiet fervor of a strategist watching her pieces fall perfectly into place.

Soon, with enough proximity and the relentless pull of the charms, it would be as real as anything fate could devise. And then, the vast, glittering empire of Vexxon would be mine.

The car glided to a silent halt. The driver was a swift, anonymous shadow, opening my door after the vehicle had fully settled.

I paid him no mind, my gaze already assessing the destination. La Perla

. A three-story temple of gastronomy and exclusivity.

I glided through the entrance, the heavy door held open by a staff member and my eyes swept the main dining room as I passed.

The customers were... adequate. Clearly moneyed, but their presence was an irritant. A flicker of annoyance sparked within me.

This was meant to be a date. A crucial and intimate evening to strengthen the artificial bond. Why hadn’t my mates secured the entire venue? Their lack of foresight was genuinely disappointing. Did they not understand the importance of privacy, of creating a world that contained only us?

A head waiter materialized at my side, his voice a hushed, reverent whisper. "Ms. Valois. A pleasure. Your private dining suite is ready. Please, follow me."

He led me to a set of double doors, opening them with a flourish into a sumptuous room adorned with modern art and a table set for four. It was empty.

He offered a shallow bow. "May I bring you a drink while you wait?"

A cold, sharp anger tightened my features for a fraction of a second before I smoothed it into a mask of gracious understanding.

"A glass of Cristal. The 2012. Not too cold."

"Of course, madam."

He vanished, leaving me alone in the silence. I took my seat. They were late. They had left me waiting.

I pulled out my phone, my thumb hovering over Keith’s name. A quick, sharp message about punctuality would be so satisfying. But no. I stopped myself. Impatience is a weakness.

It would make me seem needy, less like the serene, fated prize they believe me to be. I placed the phone face-down on the table. I would wait. Gracefully.

Ten minutes passed. Then, with my enhanced hearing, I caught the sound of their footsteps and low voices in the hall.

The door opened, and the triplets filed in. Keith led, his expression its usual unreadable mask.

"I hope you weren’t waiting long," he said, his tone flat. Not an apology. It never is with him.

"Not at all," I lied, my voice a smooth, warm melody. Keith is a man who values his own time above all else; him being late is deeply out of character.

This had to be the doing of his brothers, particularly that infuriatingly optimistic Kieran. No matter. They are here now. That’s what counts.

As they took their seats, a silent fleet of waiters materialized, adorning the table with an array of exquisite dishes.

I let a comfortable silence settle for a moment before leaning forward slightly, my gaze sweeping over each of them, making intimate eye contact. "You know," I began, my tone softened, "lately, I’ve been having the most vivid dreams. They always feel so real when I’m in them."

Keith’s eyes narrowed slightly, the most interest he’d shown all evening. "What kind of dream?"

I didn’t shy away. I met his gaze directly, letting a hint of a blush color my cheeks. "I dreamt we were... intimate. All of us. It felt so real. Like our bond was finally... cementing itself."

Keith went perfectly still while Kieran and Kayden suddenly found their cutlery fascinating, focusing intently on their plates.

"Isn’t that a bit soon?" Keith’s voice was carefully neutral, but I heard the caution in it. "You’ve been in the city less than a week. These things... requires a foundation. We should know each other better."

I allowed a flicker of confusion to cross my face. "Why are you speaking as if we are strangers, Keith? Our families have done business for years. We all know each other for years too. I know your character, your strength, your resolve. I admire it. I thought you all felt the same connection I did." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kayden’s jaw tighten.

He was forcing himself not to react. I kept my composure. "I just want us to be closer. To attend more events together. More... intimate events."

I picked up my fork and took a delicate bite, letting the tension simmer. I didn’t need to see them to feel the silent conversation happening between the three brothers.

I looked up. "How about I plan our next evening? Something private. Just for us."

Keith studied me for a long moment. "Alright."

Kieran chimed in with a fake bright, "Sounds great!" Kayden just gave a silent nod of assent.

The rest of the date proceeded with polite conversation, but the air was charged. Exactly two hours and thirty seconds after it began—yes, I was counting—they made their excuses.

***

Now, back in my opulent room within the Vexxon estate, the silence is suffocating. "Prelexa," I command, my voice sharp. "Play ’Your soul is mine’ by Mayz. Volume one hundred."

The bassline instantly thunders through the room, vibrating the floorboards. With quick, efficient movements, I reach back and unzip the emerald gown. It pools at my feet like a shimmering puddle of envy.

I step out of it, leaving it on the floor as I move toward my closet.

Opening the door, I reveal the silicone sex doll of Keith, lifelike in every detail. I pull it out, its weight familiar in my hands, and position it against the wall of the bed, sitting it upright.

With the music blaring, no one would hear my moans. I kneel in front of the doll, my fingers tracing its features as I lean in close.

"Keith," I whisper, my voice dripping with sluttiness. "I know what you want to do to me. I can see it in your eyes every time you look at me. You want to devour me, but you keep holding yourself."

I strip off my bra pads, tossing them aside, and begin rubbing my nipples, my breath quickening. "You want to touch me, to taste me, to make me yours. And I’ll let you. I’ll let you do whatever you want."

My hands slide down my body, removing my already soaked pants. I slide them off slowly, before pressing them against the doll’s face.

"You all want to know how I smell, don’t you?" I murmur, my voice low and seductive. "You want to crave me, to be consumed by me. And I’ll give you more opportunities for that. I’ll make you beg for it. You can and will never resist the bond that makes you want to fuck me."

I lean back, spreading my legs as I continue to talk to the doll, my words filthy and unhinged. "You’ll never be able to resist me, Keith. Not you or your brothers."