Lust Sync: Every Woman Wants Me Now
Chapter 41: The Night Game

Chapter 41: The Night Game

The night sky was painted with stars, but none shone as brightly as the fire in Charles’ veins.

The nightclub’s private suite had become their battlefield—dim lights casting long shadows across silk cushions, and a haze of expensive perfume mixing with the electric tension that crackled between them. The bass from the club below thrummed through the floor like a heartbeat, matching the pulse that hammered in Charles’ temples.

Liora moved with predatory grace, her emerald dress catching the light as she approached. Her kiss was searing, desperate, full of something that felt like longing but tasted like lies. Charles found himself drawn in despite every instinct screaming warnings, his hands finding her waist as she pressed against him with dangerous intensity.

"You’re not supposed to be here," Charles muttered, his voice rough with conflicted desire. "Not after what happened last night."

She smirked, but he caught the flicker of something darker in her eyes—fear, maybe, or guilt. "That’s what makes it fun, doesn’t it? The danger, the uncertainty."

He let out a breathless chuckle, but his mind was anything but calm. Every moment with Liora felt like walking a tightrope over an abyss. The rational part of his brain catalogued the inconsistencies in her stories, the way she deflected his questions, the mysterious phone calls she took in hushed tones. But the other part—the part that had been awakened by whatever this system was doing to him—craved the intoxicating chaos she brought.

His hand traced along her arm, stopping at her wrist where he could feel her pulse racing. She leaned into his touch, but something in her posture seemed rehearsed, calculated.

"Say it," Charles whispered, testing her. "Tell me why you’re really here."

"I want you," she gasped, but the words came too quickly, too practiced. "You know I do."

He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Then you’ll have me—but remember our agreement. No lies, no games. Just truth."

She hesitated, and in that pause, he saw everything he needed to know.

That moment of silence stretched between them like a chasm, filled with all the deceptions she couldn’t voice and all the trust he couldn’t give.

He gently but firmly created distance between them, standing with a frustrated groan. His body protested the decision, but his instincts were louder than his desires.

"You’re hiding something again," he said, turning his back to her as he struggled to regain control. "And I’m tired of pretending I don’t notice."

Liora’s breath hitched, and he could hear the rustle of fabric as she straightened her dress. "You don’t understand the position I’m in. Everything I’ve done—every choice I’ve made—it’s been for you."

Charles whipped around, his patience finally snapping. "That excuse is wearing thin, Liora. You can’t keep using my feelings as a shield for your secrets."

Her eyes glistened with what might have been genuine tears, but she said nothing. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths and growing mistrust.

Before the tension could reach its breaking point, the door burst open with enough force to rattle the frame.

A tall figure stepped in—Adriana.

Dressed in a crimson coat that seemed to absorb the dim light, her raven hair pulled back in a severe bun, and fury burning in her golden eyes like molten metal, she looked like a goddess of vengeance who had descended from Olympus specifically to judge them.

"Well," she said, her voice carrying the kind of cold precision that could cut glass, "is this the infamous Black Suite where the mighty Charles Manson indulges in betrayal?"

"Adriana?" Charles moved forward instinctively, genuinely surprised by her appearance. "Why are you—how did you even get in here?"

"You’ve been ignoring my messages for three days," she replied, her gaze never leaving Liora. "Then I see her car parked outside, and suddenly your radio silence makes perfect sense."

Liora stood slowly, deliberately smoothing her dress as she faced her unexpected rival. "You’re not his keeper, Adriana. Charles is free to make his own choices."

Adriana stepped forward, her movements carrying the fluid grace of someone trained in combat. "No. But I am the one who saved his life two nights ago when those men cornered him in the alley. You? You were nowhere to be found when he needed you most."

"That’s not what happened!" Liora snapped, her composure finally cracking. "You don’t know anything about what I’ve sacrificed—"

"Stop," Charles said, his voice carrying a warning that made both women pause. "Both of you, just stop."

But neither woman backed down. The air between them crackled with animosity that went deeper than simple jealousy.

"You’re nothing but a sweet-talking parasite," Adriana hissed, her usual diplomatic restraint completely abandoned. "You crawl into his bed when he’s vulnerable, feed on his trust, and then disappear when reality intrudes."

"And you’re a self-righteous watchdog," Liora growled back, her mask of seduction replaced by something feral. "Chained to your precious duty but dying to taste what’s mine!"

The tension snapped like a whip cracking.

Before Charles could intervene, Liora lunged forward with surprising speed. But Adriana was ready—her response was swift, brutal, and spoke of military training. Within seconds, Liora was pinned against the wall, Adriana’s forearm across her throat, both women breathing hard from the sudden violence.

"Stop!" Charles shouted, grabbing Adriana by the waist and pulling her back. She fought him for a moment, muscle memory from her training making her resist, then forced herself to relax.

Liora coughed and straightened her dress with shaking hands. "You’re making a mistake, Charles. A big one."

Charles glared at both of them, feeling like he was drowning in their conflicting loyalties and hidden agendas. "You both are. This isn’t about me anymore—it’s about whatever game you’re both playing."

He stormed out of the room, leaving them to stare at each other in hostile silence. The hallway spun as thoughts tangled in his head like barbed wire. How had things spiraled this fast? When had his life become a chess game where he was simultaneously the prize and the pawn?

The elevator ride to the rooftop felt like an eternity. His reflection in the polished steel doors showed a man on the edge—disheveled, conflicted, and carrying the weight of secrets he didn’t fully understand.

Outside, the city sprawled beneath him in all its neon glory. He leaned against the railing of the rooftop balcony, closing his eyes and trying to find some center in the chaos. Every woman in his life was pulling him in different directions, and he was starting to suspect that none of them were being entirely honest about their motivations.

His phone buzzed, the sound cutting through the night air like a blade.

Unknown Number: You’ve let them get too close. Secrets must remain secrets, Charles. Or everything burns.

He stiffened, his blood running cold. Someone was watching him—had been watching him. But who? And for how long?

Before he could respond, he felt a presence behind him, subtle but unmistakable.

"You look like a man standing on a ledge," said a soft voice that carried hints of an accent he couldn’t place.

He turned to see Naomi—the quiet, observant assistant who had been in the periphery of his life since the early days. Tonight, she was transformed. Gone was the professional attire and carefully neutral expression. Instead, she wore a flowing black dress that seemed to move with its own wind, and her smile held secrets that made his pulse quicken.

"I didn’t expect you," he said, studying her face for clues about her sudden appearance.

"I never left," she replied, and something in her tone suggested she meant that more literally than he’d realized.

She approached slowly, like a shadow gaining substance in moonlight. Up close, he could see that her eyes held flecks of color that seemed to shift in the darkness.

Charles raised an eyebrow, his instincts finally starting to catch up with his confusion. "Are you spying on me now too?"

"I’m here because the real threat isn’t Liora or Adriana," she said, her voice carrying a weight that made him listen despite himself. "It’s the one pulling their strings."

He tensed, every nerve suddenly alert. "Who?"

Naomi stepped close enough that he could smell her perfume—something exotic and intoxicating that seemed to cloud his thoughts. "The same man you saw in the mirror during your dream last night. The one who’s been watching you since this all began."

Charles went still. He’d never told anyone about that dream—about the figure in the mirror who’d spoken in his voice but with eyes that weren’t his own.

She touched his chest gently, her fingers finding his heartbeat. "You know you’re not the only one with a system, right?"

His blood ran cold. "What are you saying?"

Naomi’s lips brushed his ear, her breath warm against his skin. "You’re a player in someone else’s game. We all are."

Then she kissed him.

It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was desperate, hungry, and full of something deeper than desire. Pain, perhaps. Or warning. Charles found himself responding despite every rational thought screaming at him to stop, his hands finding her waist as she pressed against him with an intensity that felt like drowning.

When she pulled back, her eyes glowed faintly violet in the darkness.

"Time is running out, Charles," she whispered, and her voice carried harmonics that seemed to resonate in his bones.

Before he could react, she stepped back—and vanished into the shadows as if swallowed by the night itself.

His phone buzzed again, the sound unnaturally loud in the sudden silence.

Lust Sync Alert: Compatibility Tier S++ Detected. Naomi Altera has unlocked Hidden Route: Betrayal of Flesh.

His heartbeat slammed like thunder, and for a moment, he thought he might collapse from the surge of adrenaline and confusion.

The sky above rumbled—not with thunder, but with something else. Below, sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer. Something had just exploded downtown, painting the skyline in orange and red.

But Charles didn’t move. He stood there, frozen, as realization gripped him like ice water in his veins.

They weren’t just falling for him.

They were all pieces in a bigger game.

And someone else was holding the board.

His phone buzzed a third time, and this message made his blood freeze.

Unknown Number: The first move has been made. The building downtown was just the opening gambit. Choose your next ally carefully, Charles. Not everyone who claims to love you wants to keep you alive.

In the distance, more explosions lit the night sky. Emergency vehicles screamed through the streets below. And somewhere in the darkness, he could swear he heard Naomi’s laughter carried on the wind.

The game had begun, and Charles was finally beginning to understand that he’d been playing it blind from the very start.