NOVGO.NET Chapter 1731: Flirt Loudly
Chapter 1731: Flirt Loudly
Villain Ch 1731. Flirt Loudly
Allen didn’t say anything. He just leaned back deeper into the couch, legs stretched out like this entire fever dream was somehow his doing—which, to be fair, it kind of was. He exhaled slowly, like he was watching the madness unfold from the other side of a glass wall.
Vivian’s voice broke through the chaos, sharp and amused from the hallway. “Did I hear someone say bath? And foreplay?”
Allen turned his head just enough to see her walking in. High heels. Red lipstick.
She eyed the group. “Wow. Cozy in here.”
“Viv,” Zoe groaned from her pillow fortress. “Help. They’re flirting. Loudly.”
Vivian strutted in, snagged a grape from the snack tray, and popped it into her mouth. “Oh, darling. I didn’t come here to stop them. I came to escalate.”
Allen watched her. Calmly. Casually. Like he wasn’t already calculating the moment she’d try to top the chaos. She would. They always did.
Bella arrived a moment later, barefoot and wrapped in an oversized hoodie that didn’t belong to her. Probably one of Allen’s, judging by how smug she looked in it. She was still brushing her wet hair with her fingers, cheeks flushed from a long shower.
“Is that peach?” she asked like it was some kind of coded message.
Shea held out the bitten fruit like an offering. “Want the other half?”
Bella took it without hesitation and bit the opposite side, eyes fluttering shut as she moaned dramatically. “God, I love this house.”
Allen raised an eyebrow. “Is that my hoodie?” He remembered having it back when he still lived in his apartment—then, somehow, it just disappeared one day, and he never found it again.
Bella licked juice off her thumb. “I accidentally took it when I and Alice went to your apartment. When you were sick. I wanted to give it back but keep forgetting it. So it’s mine now.”
“Convenient interpretation.”
“I’m cute. It balances out.”
Alice came next, her usual quiet entrance almost drowned out by the sheer noise in the room. She didn’t say anything at first. Just walked in with a Dorittos in her hand, her eyes scanning the chaotic display like she’d stumbled into a derailed soap opera.
Then, without warning, she closed the book and deadpanned, “So. Are we doing group therapy or orgy snacks first?”
Zoe made a choked noise into her pillow. “Please stop talking.”
Jane raised her glass. “Orgy snacks. I missed living with hot disasters.”
Allen massaged his temple with slow, resigned fingers. “Do I even know what this group has become now?”
“Devil Daddy’s Den,” Jane answered instantly.
Vivian clapped. “I voted for that one!”
Bella grinned. “Better than ‘Harem Homebase,’ which sounded like a rental service.”
“It is a rental service,” Shea muttered, finishing her peach. “You’re renting my house. And my patience.”
“Oh, please,” Zoe said, finally tossing the pillow aside. Her cheeks were still a soft pink. “You thrive on this.”
“I do,” Shea admitted shamelessly. “The chaos keeps my skin clear.”
Footsteps padded lightly behind them, slower. Measured. Allen didn’t need to look to know who it was. The air shifted—just subtly—like the last missing puzzle piece sliding into place.
Larissa.
She entered without a word at first, dressed in black satin sleep shorts and a matching camisole, barefoot and unbothered. Her hair was half-up, some strands still damp, and her gaze cut through the room like a scalpel dipped in red wine.
She stopped by the doorway and scanned them one by one before landing on Allen.
“Huh,” she said. “Still dressed.”
Allen tilted his head. “I’ve been busy getting emotionally assaulted.”
“I offered full support,” Shea called out.
Larissa’s brow arched. “And snacks?”
“Obviously.”
She strolled in, quiet as a shadow, and made her way to the snack table, fingers ghosting over grapes, sliced fruit. Then she picked up a dried apricot and turned it over between her fingers.
“So,” she said. “What’s the plan?”
“Apparently,” Allen said dryly, “everyone’s decided we’re migrating to Shea’s room.”
Shea spread her arms wide. “All here. Guess we just need to take all this to my room. Including the snacks.”
Bella raised her brows. “All of us?”
Vivian smirked. “What, afraid of a little intimacy?”
Alice yawned. “It’s not intimacy. It’s chaos snuggling.”
Zoe groaned. “Why do I live here?”
“Because I’m your mother,” Shea said with no remorse.
Allen stood up slowly, watching the entire group like a man about to herd particularly attractive, unhinged cats.
They moved. Like some kind of feral migration, carrying pillows and emotional trauma. Allen walked in the middle of it all—shoulders relaxed, face unreadable, but brain very much calculating how the hell this became his life.
Shea’s bedroom door swung open, revealing soft lighting, luxurious bedsheets, and an ambiance that screamed money. Not rich. Wealthy. It smelled like vanilla and lavender and faint citrus—like Shea had poured elegance into the air on purpose.
The girls immediately staked their territory—pillows tossed, limbs sprawled, giggles erupting like carbonated disaster. Allen sat on the edge of the bed and slowly leaned back until his spine met silk and warmth.
“This,” he said flatly, “feels like a trap.”
Vivian lay sideways near his knees. “It is a trap. We just haven’t decided what kind yet.”
Larissa claimed the left side and sat cross-legged, idly slicing a strawberry with a tiny fruit knife. “You’re lucky we like you.”
Allen looked at her. “No. I’m lucky you’re entertained.”
Shea climbed onto the bed last, crawling over Zoe to steal the middle, and then flopped down dramatically next to Allen. Her head landed against his shoulder.
“Comfy,” she murmured.
“Warm,” Allen replied, deadpan.
Bella tucked herself in next to Alice, who was already dozing lightly, and Jane laid herself across the foot of the bed like some rich cat at rest. Feet poking out. Hair everywhere.
Silence fell for a moment.
But then, the butlers came in shortly after. Barely spoke.
“Your snacks and wine, ma’am.”
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