Evil MC's NTR Harem

Laura's mind returned to the day before—the way Ross had looked at her in the gallery, how close he'd leaned when making an observation about her work, and…

His smell.

Yes, that was it.

She remembered now how it had lingered—subtle yet intoxicating, warm with a hint of something she couldn't name.

It had unnerved her at the time, made her feel strangely aware of herself in his presence.

"He smells so good," she whispered to herself, almost as if saying it aloud made it more real.

It had bothered her then, because the scent didn't just smell pleasant—it stirred something deeper.

Something she had never wanted to admit out loud.

Something that, even now, made her heart beat faster in the dark.

And though she told herself it had only been a dream, Laura couldn't help but wonder—if just the memory of Ross's scent could affect her like this, what would happen the next time she saw him in person?

The week passed in a smooth but eventful rhythm, with Ross and Laura meeting a couple more times to finalize the details of their agreement.

Each meeting had been professional but pleasant, with Ross maintaining that polished charm that made him so easy to talk to.

By Friday evening, the deal was officially sealed.

The contracts lay signed on the polished surface of Laura's office desk, the ink still fresh.

All that remained now was for her to fulfill the order.

"Thank you for trusting me, Mr. Oakley," Laura said, her smile radiant. "I'll do my best to live up to your expectations for my work. But I should let you know—it's going to take some time. I'll keep you updated by phone or email."

Her voice carried a mix of pride and excitement that she couldn't quite hide.

This wasn't just another commission—she had just closed a nine-hundred-million-dollar deal. It was, without question, the biggest sale of her life.

Before this, her highest had been ten million, an amount she once thought was extraordinary.

Compared to this, it seemed almost modest.

Ross's smile deepened, his gaze steady. "I know you will," he said confidently. Then, after a small pause, his tone shifted, warm yet slightly suggestive.

"Since this is a night worth celebrating, would you accompany me for a drink?"

Laura hesitated for a fraction of a second.

The question was simple enough, but her mind instantly replayed her sister Lois's warnings.

She wasn't foolish—she knew there could be risk in blurring the lines between business and personal.

Still, something in Ross's voice, in the way he carried himself, made it difficult to say no.

She decided she could manage it on her terms.

I won't drink liquor, she told herself firmly. Just a harmless celebration, nothing more.

"Sure," Laura replied, her smile returning. "I'd be happy to."

Ross's eyes seemed to glimmer with satisfaction as he stood, offering her his arm.

***

The two shared dinner in one of Paris's most exclusive restaurants, the kind where the lighting was warm and low, the air carried the faint aroma of truffle and fine wine, and the waitstaff seemed to glide rather than walk.

Their table sat near a large window overlooking the glittering Seine, the reflections of the city lights shimmering in the water below.

Ross drank freely, savoring each glass of his expensive wine, while Laura kept to her sparkling water, the condensation on the glass beading against her fingertips.

She wasn't about to lose her clarity tonight, no matter how relaxed the setting felt.

The conversation was easy, the kind that made the hours pass without notice.

At first, Ross was the one steering it, his questions precise and engaging.

"What inspired you to paint?"

"How do you find the motivation to keep going?"

"When was the last time you took a vacation?"

Laura found herself smiling at how attentive he seemed, how his gaze never wandered when she spoke.

His questions were more than polite conversation—they were probing in a way that made her feel both seen and understood.

As the evening wore on and the wine took its toll, Ross grew quieter.

The sharp focus in his eyes softened, and a more relaxed version of him began to emerge.

That was when Laura decided to take the lead.

"Why do you have so many wives?" she asked with a teasing smile.

"Are you not content with just one?"

"Isn't that kind of arrangement… chaotic?"

Ross chuckled at each question, the sound low and rich, and leaned back in his chair.

His answers were delivered with a mix of honesty and lighthearted humor, never once sounding defensive.

"Well, each of them brings something different into my life," he said with a faint smirk. "And no, it's not chaotic—at least not in the way you're imagining. The key is balance… and a little bit of diplomacy."

Laura laughed, shaking her head. "Sounds exhausting."

"Only if you let it be," Ross replied smoothly, raising his glass in a mock toast before taking another sip.

By the time dessert arrived, Laura found herself surprised at how comfortable she felt.

She hadn't forgotten her sister's warnings, but in this moment, sitting across from Ross beneath the soft Parisian lights, he didn't feel like the dangerous man she'd been told to beware of.

If anything, he seemed… human.

The clock had just struck midnight when the two finally decided to call it a night.

The streets outside the restaurant were quieter now, the soft glow of Parisian streetlamps casting long pools of light on the cobblestones.

"Thanks, Miss Johnson. I had fun. I'll wait for your updates. Good night," Ross said with a faint, lopsided smile.

His words carried the slow, heavy cadence of a man who had clearly been drinking, though not quite enough to lose control.

He turned and began walking toward the entrance of his hotel, his tall frame swaying slightly with each step.

There were moments when he seemed on the verge of stumbling, only to catch himself at the last second and straighten as though nothing had happened.