Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation
Chapter 81: I’m a Hot Mess

Chapter 81: I’m a Hot Mess

Chapter 81 – I’m a Hot Mess

He blinked open one eye.

Sunlight.

Thin slivers of it had already sliced through the sheer curtains like golden scalpels. The room was dim and warm and smelled like sex and salt and maybe just a touch of lavender from whatever spell-laced laundry scent this ridiculous hotel used. But more importantly...

It was not past 8.

"Of course," Lux muttered, voice dry as he tilted his head slightly toward the bedside clock. 6:48 AM.

"I guess I’ve been cursed," he groaned, peeling himself carefully from her. "Not even past 7..."

There was no alarm. No heavenly horn. And yet here he was, awake like some overachieving mortal on a fitness kick.

He sat up, rubbing his face with one hand, letting his gaze slide over the battlefield that was now his hotel suite. The sheets were tangled. A throw pillow was lodged somewhere under the TV stand. His jacket from last night had been claimed by one of Rava’s tentacles and was now hanging limply from the dresser knob like a white flag.

Lux sighed, rolling out of bed in nothing but his pants.

Coffee.

That was the answer.

Coffee was always the answer.

The espresso machine sat like a proud little relic on the countertop near the minibar.

Lux stalked toward it, pressed the button, and waited as the machine hissed and began its blessed process of creation. The smell hit him like a memory—bittersweet, rich, comforting.

He poured the first shot into a black porcelain cup, cradled it gently like it was the last one in existence, and took a slow sip.

"Haaa..." he exhaled with genuine reverence. "Made in heaven. Brewed in hell. Perfect."

Still sipping, Lux wandered toward the TV and clicked it on with the remote.

Volume: 2.

Just enough to hear it, not enough to disturb the sleeping kraken curled in his bed.

He settled into the low sofa, one arm draped lazily over the back, abs faintly aching from last night’s "cardio." His eyes flicked to the screen.

Nothing yet.

Morning talk shows. Finance segments. Political drama reruns. Naomi hadn’t hit the media cycle.

He clicked his tongue once and leaned forward to grab the hotel phone from the coffee table.

"Reception," a chipper voice answered.

"Morning," Lux drawled. "Room 2301. Can I get breakfast delivered? Two portions. Also, extra coffee."

"Of course, sir. Anything else?"

"Yeah, has my laundry been picked up?"

There was a small rustle of paper on the other end before the staff answered, "Not yet, sir. Would you like us to retrieve it?"

"Please do."

"Right away."

He hung up, set the phone aside, and sank back into the couch. One hand rested on his cup. The other was idly brushing over the faint red imprint on his collarbone. Rava’s lipstick. Still fresh. Still perfect. He didn’t wipe it off.

The TV flickered again.

"Breaking: Naomi Delacour and Carson Virellion officially end engagement—wedding canceled following financial collapse."

Lux raised an eyebrow. Sat up straighter.

There it was.

The screen now displayed two split shots.

On the left: Carson, looking visibly distressed, surrounded by flashing lights and reporters.

On the right: Naomi, elegant and composed, walking through what looked like another five stars hotel front lobby in a tailored blazer and sharp black heels. Her eyes didn’t even flinch as she passed the cameras. Absolute poise. Queen energy.

The reporter’s voice continued, "Sources confirm that Miss Delacour finalized the paperwork last evening. Carson Virellion is said to have lost control of his assets following internal investigations and has since been removed from the board of Virellion Enterprises. The cause of the breakup remains undisclosed..."

Lux sipped his coffee, watching Carson’s entire reputation go up in flames. A smirk tugged at his mouth.

"Ah," he murmured, "what a nice morning."

The doorbell rang softly.

Lux padded to the door, hair sticking up like it had survived a thunderstorm and a wrestling match—both of which, honestly, weren’t that far off.

He cracked it open.

Two hotel staff stood there, eyes wide, polite smiles frozen in place. One had a breakfast trolley stacked with silver-covered trays, a basket of pastries, two tall glasses of orange juice, and an entire pot of coffee that smelled like salvation. The other held freshly laundered clothes, neatly folded, sealed in plastic, and wrapped with a silky ribbon.

The taller staff member blinked once. Then again.

Lux grinned at them, still shirtless, lipstick smudges blooming like trophies across his collarbone and the side of his neck. His pants weren’t buttoned properly, and he definitely had bite marks. Somewhere.

"Gentlemen," he greeted, voice way too smooth for someone who had clearly just committed several sins against a mattress. "I know. I’m a hot mess. Thank you for noticing."

Neither of them said a word.

Lux accepted the cart and gave them a once-over, then casually fished into his pocket.

Two crisp $100 bills appeared between his fingers like magic.

One bill for each of them.

He handed them off with a wink. "Here. For the trauma. And the discretion."

The younger one flushed. The older one nodded slowly, eyes glued to the trail of tentacle suckers still faintly imprinted on Lux’s left shoulder.

"You know what I mean," Lux added, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

They both nodded again. Rapidly this time.

"Very good," Lux said, signing the receipt with the hotel pen—which, for one dramatic second, shimmered into gold under his touch before returning to its generic plastic form. Both staff members flinched but didn’t speak.

"Have a blessed day," Lux said cheerfully, then gently shut the door with all the dignity of a half-naked CEO who’d just leveled up via intimacy.

He wheeled the breakfast tray to the table, still smirking, and poured himself another cup of coffee. Then one for Rava, even though she was still out cold, tangled up in sheets and tentacles like some post-orgasm goddess from a chaos temple.

Lux settled by the open window, sipping his drink, letting the breeze cool his skin. The sun warmed his face. The city buzzed faintly below.

He sighed like a man who had just survived—no, dominated—the best apocalypse ever.

"Yeah," he said under his breath, "definitely a hot mess."

But also?

Worth it.

He glanced back at the bed.

Rava was still asleep, a mess of tangled dark blue hair and tangled limbs. One tentacle dangled lazily off the edge of the mattress, swaying faintly like it was dreaming too. She looked... soft. For once.

Lux exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable.