My Taboo Harem!

Among the things Phei knew best, making a woman’s heart flutter was one of them. Not always through grand gestures, though he was very clearly guilty of those too. Sometimes it was in the smaller things. The angle of his smile, the patience of his silence, the way he remembered how she liked her wine, how much light she preferred, the kind of food that made her eyes soften before she realized she had given herself away.

Phei had learned that romance did not always require thunder:

Sometimes it arrived quietly on a plate, in a glass, in the warmth of a hand held beneath a table, in the painful softness of being seen by someone who could have chosen spectacle and instead chose detail.

Tonight, however, he had chosen both; moderation had been murdered somewhere in his childhood and no one had bothered reporting the body.

Delilah sat inside the Void-Ice dome across the low table from him, the long strapless dress she wore draping elegantly over her form like liquid midnight. The fabric clung softly to the gentle swell of her breasts before falling in graceful folds down her waist and hips, leaving her shoulders bare and luminous beneath the cognac-gold light.

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Every time she shifted, the dress whispered against her skin, the strapless neckline rising and falling with her quiet breaths, revealing the delicate line of her collarbones and the smooth, warm skin that Phei had spent the entire evening resisting the urge to kiss.

The meal before her was exquisite; delicate courses arranged with impossible care, each plate carrying not only luxury but intention. The wine beside her glowed softly beneath the cognac-gold lights, deep and warm, catching reflections from the floating black-white snowflakes outside the dome.

The cushions beneath them were soft enough to swallow exhaustion, and candles on the table burned with black-white flames threaded by pale gold, their light gentle on her skin, softer than ordinary fire and somehow more intimate.

Yet Delilah could barely bring herself to focus on the food. Her heart felt too full, her body too aware of the man across from her and the way he looked at her like she was the only star in his private sky.

She tried. Truly, she did. She lifted her fork, tasted a bite, let the flavors touch her tongue, and for half a second she understood that Phei had not merely prepared dinner.

He had prepared her dinner; the seasoning, the temperature, the richness balanced with restraint, the little contrasts in texture, all of it seemed chosen to make her happy. Even the wine was not simply expensive.

It matched the evening:

Warm, elegant, slightly sweet beneath the depth, the kind of drink one did not swallow so much as slowly agree with.

But her eyes kept drifting away to the dome, the stairway beyond the transparent wall. To the floating snowflakes, the lights, to the flowers growing out of impossible ice and the second floor that awaited above them.

The ceiling itself had been turned into a private night sky; and it was no painted illusion like some pretty projection but a real ceiling of starry black-white beauty curved above them, the Void-Ice surface holding tiny points of light that moved faintly, as if the stars had been trapped inside the dome and were too charmed to complain.

Among them floated small warm lights in cognac-gold and amber, each one matching the shade of her eyes.

Some were shaped like stars some like drifting petals and among others some were like soft little suns caught in winter.

Delilah looked up too often, the motion causing the strapless dress to shift gently over her chest, the fabric catching the light and outlining the soft curve of her figure in a way that made Phei’s gaze linger with quiet reverence.

Phei noticed, naturally; he sat on the other side of her, heartbreakingly handsome in his black-white royal attire, one hand was holding hers loosely on the table while his thumb occasionally brushed over her knuckles with a tenderness that spoke of years of restrained longing but he had not commented on her distraction and simply watched with a smile so warm it made her heart ache.

There was pride in his eyes, but not arrogance. Happiness, but not smugness; a soft satisfaction a he felt when his woman before him kept being overwhelmed by something he had made with his own hands.

Beyond her admiration, he could tell she was curious; very curious, and because he loved her, he let her wonder, because anticipation was its own kind of romance.

Her eyes kept slipping upward toward the second floor of the dome, where the upper level remained hidden behind hanging flowers, soft frost, and a faint glow that refused to reveal its purpose.

Phei had designed it that way deliberately; a secret above a secret and a promise waiting for later.

Delilah knew that too, which only made it harder not to ask.

"You keep looking up," Phei said softly.

Delilah’s gaze snapped back to him. "I do not."

"You do."

"I am admiring the ceiling."

"The ceiling appreciates your loyalty."

Her lips twitched before she could stop them. "You made the stars match my eyes."

"I did."

"Why?"

"Because your eyes are selfish," Phei said. "They make colors compete."

Delilah stared at him, her breath catching as the long strapless dress rose slightly with the quickening of her heart. She felt seen in a way that went far beyond compliments.

Phei looked at her like every detail of her existence mattered.

Then she looked away quickly, pretending to reach for her wine. Her fingers were steady, somehow, but her heart was behaving like an undisciplined animal.

Ridiculous!

She was not some innocent girl who had never received compliments before; she was Delilah Ryujin Tiamat and had grown around beauty, pride, power, old names, expensive rooms and people trained from birth to flatter without sounding like peasants begging at a window.

And yet one line from him made her feel like she was being discovered for the first time.

Phei lifted her hand and kissed the back of it with slow, deliberate reverence, his lips lingering as if he were memorizing the taste of her skin.

The simple act sent warmth flooding through her chest.

Delilah’s breath caught.

’That is not fair. None of this is fair, Phei.’

The dome, the lights, the snow, the private dinner, the way he looked at her as if this whole impossible evening had been made for the simple pleasure of watching her lose composure.

It was too much.

Too beautiful. Too intimate.

She wanted to lean across the table and kiss the hell out of him immediately. She wanted to forget the meal, the wine, the second floor, the slow design of his evening, and simply have his mouth against hers and her tongue battling his until the entire fairytale blurred.

But she followed his design; for once, Delilah let herself be led by the romance he had built.

So she ate. Slowly. She drank. Carefully. She let his fingers remain around hers and let the evening move at his pace, even though every minute made her want him more.

Outside the dome, black-white snowflakes drifted through golden light. Whenever the floating lamps touched them, they lit up briefly, each flake becoming a tiny star before dimming again. Beyond the rooftop, the evening deepened into violet and amber.

Far below, Hell’s Paradise Island glittered like a kingdom too rich to admit it had sins.

Inside, Delilah sat across from Phei and felt herself falling more deeply into something she had already thought she understood.

Love, apparently, had floors. And Phei kept building stairways.

By the time the meal ended, Delilah had finally stopped pretending she was not emotional.

Her eyes had softened beyond defense, her fingers had relaxed completely in his, and whenever Phei smiled at her, she had to look down just to survive the attack with dignity still technically attached.

The strapless dress shifted with each quiet breath she took, the fabric whispering against her skin like a second heartbeat.

Phei cleared the plates himself. Delilah watched him do it with quiet amazement. He could have called someone. This was Infinity Chaos Hotel. Service here probably arrived before hunger even filed its paperwork. But Phei did not call anyone. He gathered the dishes, set them aside neatly, restored the table with an easy elegance that made even ordinary actions feel intimate, then returned to her.

Instead of going back to his seat across the table, he joined her on the wide cushion couch built into the curved side of the dome. He moved with deliberate care, as if every step closer to her was a privilege he refused to take for granted.

He sat beside her and drew her into his arms; Delilah went willingly, almost too quickly, resting against his side as his arm wrapped around her waist. The warmth of him settled through her like a second blanket, his hand resting protectively at the small of her back, fingers tracing slow, soothing circles through the fabric of her dress.

Outside the transparent wall, snowflakes spun in slow, enchanted spirals.

Phei looked down at her. "Does this make up for making you wait for so long?"