Veil System: Running a Model, High-End Escort and Marriage Agency
Chapter 46: Madam Laurent

Chapter 46: Madam Laurent

Justin had seen a lot in his life.

And yet—

Here he was, walking through his own damn home, coming back from work, and still getting hit with this.

They were walking, Sasha leading the way like she owned the world, her ponytail swinging with every confident step. Parker was keeping up, hands shoved in his pockets, looking around at the mansion. It was clean. Too clean. The kind of clean that felt expensive. The kind that made you paranoid about breathing too hard in case you ruined something.

And then, she came into view.

The Head Maid. Madame Laurent.

If Sasha was trouble, her mother was the full fucking disaster.

Justin’s home was a masterpiece. Expensive. Elegant. A place where only the best resided. And standing near the grand windows, bathed in that soft evening glow, was a woman so violently gorgeous that for a second—just a second—he almost forgot to breathe or the graduer of his own mansion and only focused on this woman.

This wasn’t just a maid.

This was sin, wrapped up in silk and authority. Standing there, hands folded neatly in front of her, was a woman that made Justin’s brain damn near short-circuit. Justin stopped walking. Just stood there. Processing.

Because what the hell was this?

This wasn’t just a woman. This was a problem. A crisis. A full-scale national emergency packed into a maid uniform that had to be breaking some kind of laws.

Her curves? Refined. Mature. Overflowing. The type that made you wanna sit down and reevaluate your life choices. Her white blouse was hanging on for dear life, stretched to its absolute fucking limit, the buttons looking like they were two seconds away from filing a workers’ rights complaint.

And her waist? So tight, so perfectly hourglass that the swell of her hips was straight-up mind-breaking.

And then—the ass.

Justin had seen things in his life. Crazy shit. But this? This was the art he never got tired of and would be mesmerized everytime. Every time she moved, it was like the universe itself paused to appreciate the moment. The long, elegant black skirt she wore was too tight. Not just tight. Too tight. Hugging every step, teasing those impossibly perfect curves underneath. It had a slit on the side, just enough to make your brain start speaking in tongues.

Just enough to make you wanna see more.

Her legs were pire temptation. Covered in dark, sheer stockings that only made things worse, and the heels? Yeah. They made everything deadlier.

And then, her face.

Sharp. Calculated. A woman who knew. Knew exactly what kind of effect she had. Her deep red lips curled into a knowing smirk, like she could see into your soul and wasn’t impressed. Like she had seen men crumble before her and had gotten bored of it.

Strict. Dominant. The type of woman you didn’t mess with.

And the worst part?

She looked just like Sasha.

Just older.

Just more refined.

And twice as fucking dangerous.

"Justin," Sasha’s voice cut in, snapping him out of his crisis. She was already walking up to her mom, unfazed.

Parker’s feet moved on autopilot, closing the distance. He stopped in front of the woman, standing still as she turned those sharp eyes on him. Sizing him up.

And then—she bowed.

Elegant. Perfect. Controlled.

Justin froze. His mind stuttered, and for a second, everything in the room seemed to slow down. Her movements were graceful, like a predator masking her power in silk and discipline. As she lowered herself, the slit in her skirt parted just enough to tease the curve of her thigh—just enough to make Justin’s pulse spike. His body had already started reacting before his brain could catch up, and by the time she rose back up, he was on fire.

Her eyes met his, sharp and calculating, knowing exactly the kind of effect she had. He could almost hear the taunting hum of that smirk she carried on her painted lips.

Fucking hell.

This wasn’t just a maid. This was danger. This was temptation incarnate in a black skirt, and Justin couldn’t look away if he tried. His gaze roamed, drinking her in—every curve, every sway of her hips. His mind kept pulling him back to that damn slit, wishing for just a bit more.

His palms were sweating. His chest felt tight. He was fighting to keep his composure, but damn—he hadn’t expected this.

’This darn lust,’ Justin adjusted his tie feeling hot! Was he going to be like this? Lustful everytime? He’d just had sex for hours today with two hot women but here he was looking at Madam Laurent and Sasha like he wanted to lay them on the ground anywhere in the house. Still Laurent had that kind of power. That kind of control. The kind that made even a man like him—rich, powerful—feel like he was just one step away from losing it.

"Get it together, Justin." He whispered.

But hell, even his inner voice sounded weak against her presence. He was not prepared for this. Not for the way she made him feel. Not for the way every inch of her screamed to be touched, owned, devoured.

And when she straightened up, when those sharp eyes met his again, Justin felt a throb of need in his chest that only got stronger. Not for this. Not for the way she made his entire body react.

He could only stare.

Justin stepped closer, the weight of Madame Laurent’s gaze instantly locking him in place. Warm, but with a sharpness that could slice through steel if it wanted to.

"Justin," she greeted him smoothly, voice like silk, but that look—that damn stern look—told him she was in control.

"Madam Laurent," he nodded, trying not to let his gaze linger too long on her curves, though it was like a magnetic pull. She was dressed for battle, and he was the one losing.

She turned slightly to her daughter, Sasha, who was leaning against the doorway. The warmth in Madam Laurent’s eyes flickered, and for a second, her stern tone resurfaced. "Sasha, help Mr. Justin while I prepare dinner. And address him properly," she added, her eyes narrowing just enough to make the command clear.

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