Evil MC's NTR Harem - Chapter 651

Chapter 651: Chapter 651 Clarity
Kristine gaped at her. “You did not just say that.”

“I did,” Sasha said, taking a slow sip from her glass. “Look, I was just playing. It’s not like I’m going to join his little collection of wives. But come on, Kristine—admit it. He got under your skin too.”

Kristine looked away, her expression flustered. “He’s just… good at talking. That’s all.”

Sasha smirked. “He’s good at a lot of things, I bet.”

Kristine shot her a look. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” Sasha said, laughing. “But I’m not boring. And tonight? That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

There was a pause, the kind that settles in after a storm—calm, reflective, uncertain.

“You really think you can handle someone like him?” Kristine asked softly.

Sasha looked at her, her expression suddenly more thoughtful. “No. But I don’t have to. I just want to play the game. And Ross? He’s the kind of opponent who makes it worth playing.”

Kristine frowned. “He’s not playing, Sasha. That man—he’s serious. He knows exactly what he wants.”

Sasha’s smile faded slightly as she stared into her glass, watching the crimson wine catch the ambient light.

“Yeah,” she murmured, almost to herself. “That’s what makes him dangerous. But that’s also what makes it fun.” She shrugged, feigning indifference, even as her heart betrayed her with a quiet thrum of excitement.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Ross.

About the cool confidence he carried like a second skin, the way his voice had a rhythm that made everything he said sound like poetry dipped in power.

There was something about him that pulled at her—compelled her—even though she knew better than to fall for that type.

Kristine watched her closely, concern flickering in her eyes. “I hope he doesn’t call you.”

Sasha arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because you act like you’re playing with him, but I think he’s playing a deeper game,” Kristine said softly. “He’s not someone who just flirts and walks away. Be careful, okay?”

Sasha sighed, tossing her hair back as if to brush off the weight of the warning. “I will. I can handle him. Heck, I can handle ten of him,” she said with a wink, trying to lighten the mood.

Kristine didn’t laugh. She just shook her head.

Sasha giggled anyway, letting the sound fill the space between them.

It was easier to laugh than admit she was nervous.

After that, they paid the bill, stepped out into the cool night, and parted ways under the streetlights, the city buzzing softly around them.

But Sasha’s thoughts stayed locked on Ross.

***

One Week Later

Sasha tried not to think about him.

She told herself she was fine, that she didn’t need validation from some man with too many wives and too much charm.

She had other things to worry about. Work. Friends. Life. Her boyfriend.

And yet… every time her phone buzzed, she felt it. That flash of hope.

She hated it. Hated how he’d gotten under her skin with just a few hours of smooth talk and intense stares.

She’d replayed that dinner more than once in her head—his voice, the way his eyes lingered, the way he made her feel like she was the only woman in the room.

Still, a week passed. No calls. No texts. Nothing.

She told herself it was for the best.

Then, late one Friday evening, as she sat on her couch in her pajama shorts with a half-eaten tub of ice cream in her lap, her phone buzzed.

Want to go have fun tonight? — R.

Sasha stared at the message, frozen.

No context. No preamble. Just a direct invitation from a number she didn’t recognize—but she knew it was him. She knew.

A thousand thoughts ran through her head.

He waited a whole week.

Did he forget about her? Was this some casual text he sent to every girl he met?

Why did her heart flutter like a schoolgirl’s?

She set the phone down. Picked it back up. Set it down again.

Her heart was racing now. Her hands were clammy. She bit her lower lip and muttered to herself, “I won’t reply. Ignore. Ignore.”

She tossed the phone onto the couch and marched into the kitchen like that would somehow clear her head.

Opened the fridge. Stared at nothing. Closed it again. Her thoughts spun.

A minute passed.

Then two.

Then she walked back to the couch and picked up the phone again.

She reread the message.

Once.

Twice.

Ten times.

He didn’t even say her name. Just assumed she’d know.

And of course, she did.

“Goddammit,” she whispered, running a hand through her hair. “Why do I want to go?”

She tapped her fingers against the screen, then locked her phone. Then unlocked it again.

Finally, after a long, drawn-out battle with her pride, her curiosity won.

She typed:

Where and when?

And hit send.

Instantly, her heart sank and soared all at once.

There was no going back now.

***

Sasha came to see Ross—but she didn’t come unarmed, and she didn’t come to lose.

Ross had offered to pick her up, his tone casual but loaded with hidden promise.

She’d refused with a smile, her words sweet but firm. There was no way she’d let him dictate the pace from the very beginning. That wasn’t her style.

Instead, she arrived at the meeting place with three bodyguards—silent, well-dressed men who moved like shadows and didn’t flinch under scrutiny.

Some might say it was overkill. Sasha called it insurance.

The location Ross had chosen was nothing short of luxurious.

A rooftop lounge perched above the glittering skyline, with soft jazz humming in the background and a private corner table reserved just for the two of them.

A full moon hung above them, bathing the city in silver light, while a soft breeze carried the scent of roses from the garden terrace nearby.

And there he was.

Ross Oakley stood near the edge of the balcony, hands tucked into his pockets, framed by the night like something out of a movie.

His dark suit hugged his form perfectly, his expression unreadable but deeply confident—like he already knew how the night would end.