Villain Ch 1908. A Gauntlet Thrown

The way she said it, all lazy confidence and velvet edge, made Allen pause with his fork halfway to his mouth.

Her eyes glittered like wine in the late afternoon sun slanting through the windows. Outside, the mountain air shimmered over a landscape so perfect it felt unreal—evergreens swaying gently, the lake below catching flecks of gold.

Inside, the private villa dining room was bathed in warm light, thick with scent—roasted garlic, buttery bread, grilled meat, faint perfume. Too much perfume.

And every drop of it was aimed at him.

Allen leaned back slightly in his chair, his eyes lazily scanning the table. To anyone else, it might look like a casual glance. To his girls? A gauntlet thrown.

Vivian licked her spoon a little too slow.

Bella traced circles on her wine glass, tongue flicking her lips like a fox who found the henhouse unlocked.

Jane didn't even bother hiding her smile—she looked like she already had the punchline of a joke she hadn't told yet.

Zoe, of course, wasn't subtle. Never was. She leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin in palm, her shirt tugging just enough to draw the eye.

Shea took a bite of her steak, still watching him. "What's that look, Allen? You bored?"

He chewed slowly, swallowed. "No."

Then he smiled.

The cool kind. That slow, sharp smile that made them lean closer without realizing it. That smile that said he was still the one in control—even when he wasn't. Especially when he wasn't.

"I was just wondering," he said, setting his fork down deliberately, "if you all planned this."

Jane lifted an eyebrow. "Planned what?"

He leaned forward, bracing one arm on the table. "This."

Vivian chuckled. "Define 'this,' emperor."

"Feeding me with your eyes. Licking your lips every five seconds. Sitting just close enough for your perfume to spike every breath I take." He gestured loosely. "Are you trying to seduce me, or am I imagining things?"

Zoe grinned like a devil. "Is it working?"

"No," Allen said smoothly. "Not unless you want to try harder."

And there it was. That tension that snapped up like a tight string. A shared jolt of challenge. The girls exchanged glances.

Then Vivian stood up.

"Alright, then," she said, walking around the table without haste, heels silent on the polished wood. "Let's try harder."

She stopped behind him, reached over his shoulder, and picked up a piece of steak from his plate with her fingers. She brought it to his lips.

"Say 'ah,' Young Master," she whispered, brushing her chest lightly against his back as she leaned closer.

Allen didn't move at first.

Then he parted his lips, slowly.

The piece entered his mouth—still warm, still slick with juice. He chewed, expression unreadable. Swallowed.

"Needs salt," he murmured.

Jane barked a laugh. "You absolute menace."

Vivian only smirked and dragged her fingers down the line of his collar before stepping back. "We'll fix that."

Bella was next. She picked up a slice of peach, leaned across the table, and popped it into her own mouth first—then half-lowered herself into Allen's lap, pulling the fruit between her lips with a wet pop and guiding it toward him.

"You're not too full for dessert, are you?" she purred.

He caught her wrist. Not hard. Just firm enough to pause her.

"You're all too bold today."

"And you're not stopping us," she whispered.

Allen looked up at her from under his lashes. His voice was low, almost bored—but the flicker in his eyes wasn't.

"Maybe I'm just letting you think you're winning."

"Oh?" Bella tilted her head, grinding her hips once in his lap. "And what if we are?"

He let her go.

"Then I'll collect interest later."

That did something. Bella grinned and kissed his cheek, slow and soft, letting the peach drop from her mouth into his.

Zoe groaned, collapsing back in her chair with a dramatic stretch. "God, just take him already. Or let me."

"Down, girl," Jane muttered, passing her a napkin.

Allen chewed the peach slowly, eyes flicking around the table. His heartbeat wasn't exactly calm anymore. He was good at playing cool, but this?

This was war.

And he was getting surrounded.

He turned his gaze to Shea, who'd been watching quietly, wine glass untouched now, her smirk faded into something more dangerous.

"You started this," he said.

She set the glass down and stood. "I did."

"Then finish it."

She walked over. Confident. Barefoot, silent as a shadow. Her fingers dragged along the edge of the table, and when she stopped beside him, she didn't feed him.

She sat on the table.

Right beside his plate.

And leaned down.

Her fingers brushed his jaw. "Let me ask you something, Allen…"

He tilted his head. "Ask."

"Do you want to win this game?"

He licked a bit of peach juice from his lower lip. "What makes you think I didn't already?"

She bent lower, whispering against his ear. "Because if you had… we wouldn't still be dressed."

And just like that, the air in the room shifted. Sharpened. Got heavier. A flush rose along his neck, subtle but there. The air smelled like heat and citrus, her perfume humming against his senses.

Allen didn't flinch. Didn't look away.

He reached up and caught Shea by the wrist, slow and smooth.

Then pulled her down just enough so her lips barely grazed his.

Not a kiss.

Not quite.

Just a warning.

"I'm letting you climb," he said, voice quiet now. "But don't forget whose lap you'll land in."

"I'm counting on it," Shea whispered.

Jane made a sound like she couldn't believe what she was witnessing. "You guys are seriously turning lunch into a foreplay."

Vivian shrugged. "Not our fault he's sexy when smug."

Bella reached for another slice of fruit. "Not our fault we're starved."

Allen finally stood. Pulled Shea with him as he did, her body flush to his, his palm firm on her waist. He didn't look at the others—just kept his gaze locked with Shea's.

"I'm still hungry," he said.

Shea swallowed.

He stepped back.

Sat again. "Feed me."

It was a command this time. Not a request.

And they all moved.

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