Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives Chapter 1987: I Don’t Do One-night Stands

Villain Ch 1987. I Don’t Do One-night Stands

She narrowed her eyes. "You don’t even look tired."

"No. I’m just not used to being called ’so big’ in a panic voice."

She groaned and buried her face in the pillow again. "I knew you’d bring that up."

"You really should’ve known better."

They sat in silence for a few monts. Her sipping coffee, half buried under sheets. Him fully upright, hair damp, sipping slowly, body relaxed but mind already turning through the day’s tasks. etings. Schedules. New prototype updates.

But then Mila peeked over the edge of the blanket again.

"You really gonna take ho?"

Allen looked over. "Yeah. Why?"

She shrugged, voice quieter. "Just... I dunno. Didn’t think you’d stay."

He set his coffee down.

"Mila."

She froze.

"I told you last night. I don’t do one-night stands."

She bit her lip. "I know. I just... wanted to believe it."

Allen leaned forward, elbow on knee. His voice softer now.

"I don’t invite girls to hotel suites, order room service, and let them scratch up my back if I’m not serious."

Her blush deepened. "You let scratch you?"

"Let is a generous term," he muttered, rubbing his ribs. "You attacked."

"I was overwheld!"

He raised a brow. "You moaned my na like it was a spell."

"Allen!"

He grinned, leaning closer. "Say it again."

She threw a pillow at him.

He caught it easily and tossed it back beside her.

The tray between them stead. But instead of eating, Allen tilted his head, gave her that look, the half-mocking, half-serious one, and asked, "Breakfast?"

Mila blinked at him, still bundled in the blanket like a burrito. Then nodded, the motion slow and sleepy. "Yeah. Probably a good idea before I die of hunger and sha."

He smirked and pulled one of the trays closer, lifting the lid. "I told them double everything. In case you needed to regain stamina."

"Allen," she groaned, face buried in the pillow. "Please let live."

"No promises," he said, handing her a buttered croissant. "Eat up."

They ate in easy silence, trading bites, exchanging comnts about how good the hash browns were, how the eggs were just okay, and how Allen sohow managed to drink two coffees without losing that calm CEO energy. Mila, on the other hand, looked like a gremlin that had just barely survived a storm and had crumbs on her lips.

Thirty minutes later, their plates were mostly empty, the tray pushed aside on the floor, and Allen was stretching his legs beside her with a soft groan of satisfaction.

He checked the ti again. "I gotta get to the Cyber building soon," he said, pulling his robe tighter. "But I’ll take you ho first."

"Thank you," Mila said softly.

He glanced over. Her legs were tucked under her, blanket draped ssily over her chest, her hair sticking up in four directions, and that faint bruising still visible at her collarbone. The coffee was still cradled between her hands, and her lips, kissed raw and swollen last night, curved into that quiet, sleepy smile that made sothing warm twist in his chest.

He didn’t say anything.

He just watched her for a mont longer, morizing that ssy perfection.

But logic pulled him back.

"You need to shower," he said, taking the cup from her hands and setting it aside gently. "And dress up properly."

Mila blinked. "Oh. Uh... wait. I don’t have clean outfit."

Allen raised an eyebrow. "Yes, you do."

"No, I really don’t—"

"You have my gift."

Her face froze. "You don’t an—"

Allen stood, walking toward the closet. "The one I gave you last night."

"But it’s not suitable for morning. It’s too much."

He pulled it out and held it up. "The one that fits your body perfectly and makes you look like you belong in a magazine ad for perfu and murder."

"I can’t wear that ho."

"Why not?"

Mila gestured vaguely to herself. "It’s a whole thing! That dress screams ’I just got ravished in a five-star hotel.’"

He tilted his head. "So?"

"So?!"

Allen shrugged. "It’s better than your previous outfit."

Her jaw dropped. "You are right...." Yeah, going ho with the sa outfit as last night was more... scandalous.

She groaned and threw herself back into the pillows. "Oh my god—"

He took a step closer, lifting the corner of the dress. "So, unless you wanna leave here in the hotel robe, this is your best option."

She sat up, opened her mouth to argue...

And he added casually, "I an... last night outfit is the sa thing you were wearing when you begged for—"

Her hand flew out and slapped over his mouth. "Okay. I get it. I get it."

His brows lifted, eyes twinkling as he spoke against her palm. "Do you now?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

She pulled her hand back, blushing furiously. "I’ll wear the dress."

"Smart girl."

He tossed it onto the bed beside her, then walked over to grab his phone from the nightstand.

Mila stared at the silky black fabric like it might combust in her hands. Then she looked back at him. At his casual posture, robe tied loose around his waist, hair slightly damp, muscles relaxed, but that air of quiet command still clinging to his every movent.

"Allen," she said softly.

He looked up.

She swallowed. "Last night... it wasn’t just physical, right?"

He t her gaze for a beat longer than necessary.

Then he walked over, leaned in, and kissed her forehead, softly, deliberately, like sealing a promise with sothing warr than words.

"No," he said. "It wasn’t."

And she smiled again.

A real one this ti. No teasing. No fear.

Just... warm.

He looked down at her one last ti before stepping back toward the bathroom, grabbing his comb, and checking his phone.

"Now hurry up," he added, his voice sliding back into that bossy tone. "Or I’ll assu you want to help you get dressed."

Mila blushed so hard she nearly flung the pillow at him again.

She didn’t.

Because part of her wasn’t sure she’d resist if he ant it.