Evil MC's NTR Harem

Ross would make sure Ella never forgot the night he took her.

He'd etch himself into her body and memory so deeply that even Mario, despite everything, would understand why it had to be this way.

Yes, Ross thought, standing up and grabbing his keys. He wasn't just accepting the offer.

He was going to make it unforgettable.

"Ross, you're here," Mario said as he opened the front door.

He looked uneasy—his strong, handsome face shadowed by something between guilt and apprehension.

Ross could tell the man hadn't slept well. There were faint bags under his eyes, and his smile, though polite, didn't quite reach them.

Still, he stepped aside to let Ross in.

And then she appeared.

Ella.

Ross's breath caught for a moment, despite himself.

She stepped into view from deeper in the hallway, and for a second, everything around her seemed to slow.

She was every bit as stunning as he remembered—no, more.

The light from the hallway framed her figure perfectly, casting a soft glow that made her skin seem to shimmer.

Her cardigan, pale pink and loosely draped, hung open to reveal a silky camisole in a soft mauve hue that hugged her delicate frame.

The lacy trim along the neckline subtly hinted at what lay beneath without being overtly provocative.

It was tastefully sexy—feminine and elegant.

Her jeans were designer, dark blue, and high-waisted, perfectly tailored to fit her figure.

They hugged her hips and thighs in just the right way, emphasizing her natural curves and long legs.

Even the simple silver earrings she wore caught the light with every small movement, completing a look that was quietly breathtaking.

But it wasn't just her beauty that held Ross's attention—it was her expression.

There was a subtle war playing out on her face: the uncertainty in her eyes, the tension in her jaw, the way she clutched one arm across her stomach as if to shield herself.

Her cheeks were lightly flushed, and her eyes, though they flicked to meet Ross's briefly, dropped away almost instantly.

She was clearly nervous, and not just in the bashful, flirty way women sometimes were.

No—this was something deeper.

Ella was standing on the edge of a choice that both terrified and excited her.

The idea of being touched—claimed—by someone other than her husband was foreign and jarring.

Her entire body seemed aware of the implications of what was about to happen, and Ross could feel the fragile tension in the air.

"Hi… Ross," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

It was soft, smooth, and laced with hesitation.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes still not quite able to meet his fully.

Ross gave her a warm smile—reassuring, not pushy. He understood.

This wasn't a one-night fling for her.

It was a deliberate step into the unknown, taken not out of lust, but perhaps out of loyalty, sacrifice, or even a desperate hope to fix something broken.

"Hi, Ella," Ross replied calmly, his voice low and steady. "It's good to see you again."

There was a silence after that—heavy but not uncomfortable.

Mario lingered by the door, shifting awkwardly.

"I'll, uh… give you two a minute," he muttered, turning and disappearing toward the kitchen. He didn't look back.

Ross slowly stepped further inside, his eyes never leaving Ella.

He took his time, not approaching her directly, but not retreating either.

She stood still, her hands gently clasped now, her chest rising and falling a little quicker than normal.

"You look… beautiful," Ross said honestly.

Ella blushed deeper, almost visibly trying to suppress a reaction.

"Thank you," she said, eyes still downcast.

Another pause.

"You don't have to rush anything," Ross added. "We go at your pace. This only happens if you want it to."

That made her finally lift her gaze.

Her eyes met his—and for the first time, there was something new behind them.

Still nervous, yes. But also… a flicker of curiosity. Maybe even desire.

"I… I know," she said softly. "It's just strange. I never imagined something like this would ever happen."

Ross nodded. "Neither did I. But… here we are."

She looked at him for another long moment, her lips parting slightly as if she were about to say something else—but instead, she simply nodded.

"I'll get us some water," she said, almost as an excuse to break the intensity of the moment.

She turned and walked toward the kitchen, her hips swaying slightly, the soft scent of her perfume lingering in the air she left behind.

Ross stood alone in the hallway, exhaling slowly.

This was going to be delicate—but also unforgettable. He had no doubt.

And neither, he suspected, would Ella.

The three of them sat through dinner like actors in a quiet, uncomfortable play.

Every bite, every word, every glance across the table felt rehearsed and hollow.

The food was good—Mario had made sure of that—but none of them were truly tasting it.

Their minds were elsewhere.

They tried to talk about normal things: a new movie, a sports score, even traffic.

But nothing could erase the awareness of what was waiting at the end of the meal.

The small talk was just noise, a flimsy cover for the elephant in the room.

Mario kept glancing at Ella when he thought Ross wasn't looking.

Ella avoided both their eyes, chewing slowly, her fingers resting on the stem of her wineglass.

Ross said little, only speaking when prompted. He was respectful, composed, but there was something simmering behind his calm expression—something neither of them could miss.

By the time dessert was offered, no one had the appetite for it.

They sat in a few more minutes of awkward stillness before Mario finally stood up and cleared his throat.

"Well," he began, his voice rough and lower than usual, "I guess… I'll leave you two to it."

There it was. The curtain pulled back. The truth acknowledged.

Ella looked up at him, startled by how suddenly the moment had arrived.