Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation
Chapter 62: I Could Eat

Chapter 62: I Could Eat

Chapter 62 – I Could Eat

"...You hungry?" Lux asked, almost too casually.

Rava blinked. A beat passed. "What?"

"Lunch," he said, leaning back in his seat like the whole morning hadn’t been a whirlwind of earrings, emotional landmines, and showroom staff trying not to trip over themselves. "It’s technically past brunch. So unless you’re running on kraken pride alone..."

Rava narrowed her eyes. "I had coffee."

"That doesn’t count."

"I had two croissants."

Lux arched an eyebrow. "Still doesn’t count."

She tried to play it cool. Like her stomach hadn’t just grumbled quietly. Like she hadn’t just realized she’d been running on flirtation, tension, and faint ocean-air perfume fumes all morning.

"I could eat," she admitted.

Lux smirked.

But instead of barking directions like before, he leaned his head against the window, eyes half-lidded, and murmured inside his mind.

’System. Restaurant. Something impressive, not pretentious. Balcony view. Good food. Minimal risk of running into people I owe favors to.’

[Query Received.]

[Analyzing current location, weather conditions, budget tier (Ultra), and companionship status: High Compatibility (92%).]

[Top Recommendation: Marenti’s Sky Terrace.]

[ Distance: 3.8 km]

[ Estimated Time: 17 minutes with current traffic.]

[ Balcony seat available.]

[ View: East Garden Cascades & Sovereign Tower South.]

[ Mood Score: 89% - Optimal for charm-based seduction or emotionally fraught confessions.]

’Book it. And yes, I want the balcony.’

[Reservation completed. May I suggest a 12% increase in charm output? Your recent sincerity spike has temporarily destabilized the target’s emotional shields.]

’Noted. Don’t oversell it.’

[Me? Oversell? Never. I merely optimize.]

Lux flicked his gaze toward the driver and said aloud, "Marenti’s. Upper terrace."

The driver didn’t even blink. "Yes, sir."

Rava raised an eyebrow. "You had a reservation?"

"Kinda," Lux said, lounging back in his seat like that explained everything.

She stared at him. "You’re not joking, are you. You even don’t bring your phone."

"I never joke about lunch," he said solemnly.

Seventeen minutes later—because of course the system was exact—they stepped out onto a rooftop that looked like it belonged in a high-budget romance movie.

Marenti’s wasn’t just a restaurant. It was a statement.

Tiled marble floor in swirling pearl and midnight hues. Balconies wrapped in crystal railings, trimmed with gold vines and flowering moss. Obsidian glass tables reflected the sunlight like liquid ink, and the scent of rosemary oil, grilled sea bass, and wild citrus drifted through the air like a rich person’s cologne.

The parasol above their table?

Ivory canvas, embroidered with golden threads, quietly flexing its imported heritage without a single word.

Lux pulled out Rava’s chair like he was born to do it, then slipped into his own with that same calm confidence that made even the waiter hesitate mid-step.

Rava sat slowly, her brain catching up to the shift in atmosphere.

This felt... intimate.

Too intimate?

Maybe.

She opened the menu. Pretended to focus. But her eyes kept sliding sideways. Watching him.

He had taken off his coat. Rolled his sleeves. Sat there with one leg crossed, fingers idly tracing the rim of his water glass. His shirt was dark, sharp-collared. His watch glinted just once under the sun. Hair tousled just enough to look accidental. Like a rich man who’d survived a hurricane and had time to style it before seducing someone.

He caught her looking.

Of course he did.

She looked away instantly.

"Caught you," he said under his breath.

"I was looking at the glass," she lied.

"Mm-hm."

"I was."

"You can lie to me," he said, reaching for his glass, "but those new earrings you’re wearing?" He pointed to one. "They heat up when you’re flustered," he teased

She touched her ear reflexively. "That’s not a real thing."

"I’m a demon," he said, sipping his drink. "Everything’s a real thing if I say it with confidence."

Rava fought a smile.

The waiter appeared, a silver tray in hand, and Lux ordered something that wasn’t even on the menu. The waiter nodded, not even blinking. Like it was some kind of blood pact or code phrase.

"What did you just order?" Rava asked.

He leaned closer. "Something cursed, lightly grilled, and blessed by an underwater siren cult. Good omega-3s."

"You’re making that up."

"Probably."

She chuckled despite herself. "I’ll have the crab ravioli," she told the waiter.

"Excellent choice, miss," he said, and vanished like smoke.

Then it was just them again.

Sunlight warming the balcony.

The breeze carrying faint scents of pepper and citrus peel.

And that ridiculous, ridiculous man across from her still watching her like she was the next investment portfolio he was about to completely consume.

"You’re hard to read," she said finally.

Lux tilted his head. "That’s on purpose."

"Most guys try to impress. Over-explain. You don’t."

"I was raised in Hell," he said smoothly. "We don’t do small talk. We do contracts."

She smirked, still thought he was joking. "Right. CFO of Damnation. Forgot."

He leaned forward, chin resting on one hand. "I can show you the quarterly soul-reaping report later, if you’re curious."

"Oh yeah," she said. "Nothing gets me going like cursed ledgers."

"You’re lucky," he murmured. "Mine are beautifully typeset."

She laughed again. This one real. Unexpected. The kind that bubbled up from somewhere past her usual walls.

Lux didn’t react much—just kept watching her with that satisfied gleam, like he’d just opened a lock without touching the key.

Their food arrived. Steaming, plated like art. Her ravioli glistened with saffron butter and edible petals. His... whatever-it-was looked like blackened perfection with a side of forbidden citrus and ominous mushrooms.

They ate. Talked.

About travel. Cities they hated.

Unrealistic shoes in runway shows.

And for the first time in a long time—

Rava let herself be.

No script. No calculated smiles.

Just... her.

And Lux?

He never pushed.

He flirted—relentlessly. But never too far.

There was space.

To breathe.

To feel safe.

To laugh.

And as she leaned back in her seat, the gold-trimmed parasol casting a soft glow over her face, she touched one earring again and said, "This is the weirdest first date I’ve ever had."

Lux finished his drink, swirling the last sip like it was a ritual. "But it’s working."

Rava looked at him for a moment.

And smiled.

"...Yeah. It is."

And that scared her more than anything.

Because she wasn’t falling.

She was already in free fall.

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