Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Villain Ch 1650. You Invade Me

Vivian turned her head slightly, catching his profile, her heart giving a little extra kick at the way he answered. No denial. No teasing. Just truth.

Mila swallowed. “I thought it was just me.”

“It wasn’t,” Allen said softly.

His voice rolled through the space between them like velvet.

Vivian shifted slightly in her seat, crossing her legs, feeling the heat pulse low in her stomach again.

The photoshoot had done more than capture good pictures.

It had triggered something.

That was the best word for it.

They had danced too close to a fire neither of them fully understood.

Vivian finally exhaled, letting herself lean back into the seat. “It felt… different.”

Allen hummed quietly, the sound rich and low. “It was.”

Mila chewed her bottom lip. “I mean… I’ve done shoots before. But never like that.”

Her voice trembled on the word you, and she flushed again the moment it left her mouth.

Allen finally turned his head enough to glance between them, his gaze heavy as it passed first over Vivian, then Mila.

“That’s because none of those others were me,” he said calmly.

Vivian let out a breathy laugh, but it caught slightly, like her chest didn’t have enough room to breathe. “God… you say that like it’s so simple.”

Allen’s eyes met hers, and his smirk deepened. “It is simple.”

Vivian swallowed again, her pulse humming wildly under her skin. She couldn’t help it.

Her voice dipped lower, almost instinctive. “You’re not exactly easy to be around sometimes.”

Allen’s smirk curled darker. “Because I overwhelm you?”

“Because you invade me,” she whispered. “Without even touching.”

Mila looked between them, her own breathing turning shallow. She felt the exact same thing—but hearing Vivian say it out loud only made it feel even more real.

The heat surged again, making her lightheaded.

Allen said nothing for a moment. His playful smile faded into something heavier, something darker. His voice dropped, deep and slow.

“That’s because you both let me.”

The words slid into their bones like silk and poison all at once.

Mila’s breath hitched.

Vivian’s stomach flipped hard.

The car fell into another weighted silence—this time fully charged with undeniable, shared tension.

Neither of them had the words.

Because they knew he was right.

And the worst part?

They liked it.

Vivian’s fingers gripped the leather seat lightly, feeling her heartbeat pound in her ears.

Mila tried to respond, but it came out breathy again. “You’re dangerous.”

Allen finally smiled fully now, voice smooth, his gaze settling between both of them as Kai silently kept his eyes on the road ahead.

“I am.”

And both of them shivered under it.

The rest of the drive passed in that same heavy quiet—no one daring to break it, yet none of them able to fully escape it either. Every second felt stretched thin and tight, like invisible wires pulling at their skin, winding around their throats in a way that wasn’t quite suffocating—but close enough to leave them breathless.

Eventually, Kai made a gentle turn into the private driveway of the restaurant—a secluded, high-end spot tucked behind polished gates and towering hedges. The kind of place designed for people who wanted privacy without having to ask for it.

The black sedan pulled up under the grand stone awning. The doorman was already waiting, as if Kai had signaled ahead.

One glance at the car’s plates and the doorman immediately straightened his posture. “Welcome, Mr. Goldborne,” he greeted smoothly, opening the door with a practiced bow.

Allen stepped out first, adjusting his cuff with that same unhurried elegance that made both Vivian’s and Mila’s hearts skip.

Vivian followed, her pulse quickening again just watching the ease in which Allen commanded the space around him.

Mila stepped out after, clutching her bag a little tighter, feeling her legs weaken—not from exhaustion, but from the heat simmering inside her since the car ride.

A staff d’ stepped forward instantly. “Your private room is ready, Mr. Goldborne. Right this way.”

Allen nodded once, leading both women inside. The cool interior of the restaurant wrapped around them, dim lighting, soft music, and the faint scent of fresh herbs and roasted meats filling the air.

Vivian’s stomach fluttered again. Everything about this place felt rich. Exclusive. Dangerous, in its own way.

The walk to the private room wasn’t long, but the silence as they followed him somehow made each step feel slower, heavier. The soft click of Mila’s heels echoed faintly behind them, perfectly in rhythm with Vivian’s.

Finally, the staff opened the door into a private suite—dark wood paneling, floor-to-ceiling windows shielded by silk curtains, and a long polished table set for three.

It was far too intimate for something as simple as lunch.

And maybe that was the point.

They sat—Vivian to his right, Mila to his left. Allen sat at the head of the table like a king taking council.

A young server arrived, placing menus before each of them with a respectful bow. “If there’s anything you need, simply call.”

Allen waved his hand gently. “Give us a moment.”

The server retreated silently.

Vivian swallowed as she stared at the menu, but honestly, the words blurred together. It was hard to focus when she was still very aware of Allen’s proximity—close enough that his presence felt like a low hum against her skin.

Mila chewed her lip again, trying to read, but her heart wasn’t cooperating.

Allen, as always, was perfectly composed. His voice broke the silence.

“Wine?” he offered casually, glancing between them.

Vivian smiled nervously. “It’s a bit early for me.”

Mila shook her head quickly. “Same.”

Allen nodded in amusement. “Smart.” His gaze warmed slightly, teasing. “No need to make this afternoon more dangerous than it already is.”

Vivian’s stomach twisted at the way he said it, and Mila turned pink instantly.

“Order whatever else you like, then,” Allen said softly. “Drinks, food, whatever pleases you.”

The two girls nodded, both lowering their eyes to the polished leather-bound menus in front of them, trying—really trying—to focus on the words instead of the man sitting so calmly across from them.

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