Veil System: Running a Model, High-End Escort and Marriage Agency
Chapter 53: Harem Lord?

Chapter 53: Harem Lord?

A sleek black mini dress, hugging her body just right, showing just enough skin to tempt but never to cheapen. The fabric shimmered subtly under the kitchen’s warm lights, catching the eye in all the right ways. A high slit on the side? Of course. It added that extra touch of fuck-you elegance she wore so well.

Her heels? Killer. Strappy, thin, the kind that made her legs look like they went on for days.

And the finishing touch? A cropped leather jacket, effortlessly draped over her shoulders, bringing the perfect mix of class and danger.

No excessive jewelry, just simple studs in her ears, a hint of gloss on her lips, and a scent that was both intoxicating and unmistakably her.

Justin took all of it in with a glance, lips quirking. "Not bad."

Claire rolled her eyes but smirked. "Not bad? Please. You know I look good."

He chuckled, pouring her a drink. "Fair. You do."

And just like that, she was settled in, ready for whatever the night had in store.

*****

The night air was crisp, carrying that slight chill that made expensive leather jackets feel like a power move rather than a necessity. Justin and Claire stepped out together, his hand naturally resting in hers like it belonged there. And she? She didn’t shy away, didn’t act coy—just laced her fingers through his like she owned the right to do it.

They strolled toward the compound, and there it sat.

A goddamn masterpiece of engineering.

Matte black, sleek as sin, and aggressive in all the right places—a Lamborghini Revuelto, the beast on the streets. That low, predatory stance, the sharp angles that made it look like it could slice through time itself, and those Y-shaped headlights? Fucking menacing.

Claire didn’t even hesitate. She pulled the fob from her pocket and, with a press, the lights flared to life like the car had been waiting to be unleashed. She tossed the key toward Justin with a smirk. "Drive. I want the VIP treatment. Thanks to your beastly-ass stamina, I’m already half-dead."

Justin caught the key midair, laughing as he shook his head. "Not my fault you can’t keep up."

"Honey, I did keep up. That’s why I can’t walk straight."

"You are aware I’m not your chauffeur, right?"

"You are tonight," she shot back with a smirk. "I’m still recovering, thanks to you."

He smirked but didn’t argue. Instead, he stepped toward the driver’s side, swinging the door up like it was a damn spaceship. Claire slid into the passenger seat with that effortless grace she had, her dress riding up just enough to tease—but Justin was too focused on his ride to let it distract him.

The interior? Pure fucking luxury.

All-black Alcantara seats, carbon-fiber trims that screamed money, and a center console that looked like it belonged in a fighter jet. The digital display flickered to life as he pressed the ignition button, and then—

The roar.

That V12 hybrid engine woke up like a pissed-off god, growling deep and throaty, shaking the very air around them. Claire let out a low whistle, impressed despite herself. "Okay. That’s sexy.

Justin smirked, resting his hand on the wheel like he was born with it. "Watch this."

He revved the engine once—twice—before throwing it into gear. Then, without warning, he spun the wheel, executing a crazy ass turn that sent the Lambo whipping around in a perfect arc. The tires screeched against the pavement before catching grip, and then—

They tore through the gates, straight into the open road, the city lights stretching out before them like a kingdom to be conquered.

*****

From her bedroom window, Selena stood watching, the silky fabric of her black lace nightgown pooling around her as she held her arms across her chest. She had expected Justin to leave. That wasn’t what bothered her.

It was them.

The way Claire held his hand—not casually, but intimately. The way Justin let her. How far had they gone? How much had changed between them?

Selena exhaled, running a hand through her hair. They’re not kids. She knew that better than anyone that Justin was beyond needing protection from her and it was his time to soar. If anything, she would probably need Justin’s protection before long—not the other way around.

But still.

The worry sat there, gnawing at her, whispering what-ifs. In her world, Justin was all she had. And whether she liked it or not, she couldn’t afford to let anything happen to him.

*****

The Lambo sliced through the neon-lit streets of Las Vegas like a black panther on the hunt. The city was alive—pulsing with energy, drowning in lights, and screaming luxury at every corner. Skyscrapers loomed, billboards flashed, and the roads glowed under the endless parade of headlights and street lamps.

Inside, the energy was... different.

Claire was glued to Justin’s side, her arms wrapped around his one free hand, fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin like she was etching her claim. Her head rested lightly against his shoulder, and every few seconds, she’d look up at him with those soft-ass eyes like he was the only man to ever exist.

Justin?

He just smiled passively and kept his eyes on the road.

’This is gonna be a problem,’ he thought dryly.

Every woman he fucked? Emotional attachment.

Like clockwork. It started simple—little looks, small touches. Then before he knew it, they’d be too far gone, in love beyond the point of no return. And given how far he was planning to go in life, that? That was dangerous.

The last thing he needed was to accidentally build a damn harem.

Because that? That would be a whole other fucking problem.

...Ahh, problem for tomorrow.

But tonight?

Tonight was about celebration. No stress, no overthinking, just enjoying the present and making sure the future was even better.

So, he squeezed Claire’s hand, finally looking at her with a small, reassuring smile before—

He stepped on it.

The Lambo lurched forward, the V12 engine roaring like it was offended it hadn’t been let loose sooner. The lights of the Strip blurred past, the wind rushing through the barely cracked windows, the world around them turning into a neon blur of excess and power.

The destination? Already set. He didn’t ask. Didn’t need to.

It wasn’t a place he recognized—but the location?

Somewhere deep in the hyper-elite side of Vegas. The kind of place where old money, new money, and fuck-you money all blended together in secret luxury.

Whatever Claire had planned?

It was gonna be a good one.