Evil MC's NTR Harem

By the time dessert arrived, Amanda realized the evening had flown by.

The quartet in the corner had shifted to a slower tune, soft jazz drifting through the air like smoke. Ross set down his glass and stood, extending his hand toward her.

"May I have this dance?"

Amanda blinked. "Here? There's not even a dance floor."

He glanced around. "Then we'll make one."

For a moment, she hesitated. But then her fingers slid into his, and he guided her to a small open space near their table.

The other guests barely looked up, too absorbed in their own lives.

The world felt narrowed down to just the two of them.

The dance was simple, slow. Ross's hand rested at the small of her back, his other holding hers gently.

Amanda followed his lead, uncertain at first but quickly finding rhythm.

His touch wasn't demanding—it was warm, steady. Comforting.

"This isn't what I expected," she said quietly, half to herself.

"Good or bad?" he asked.

She looked up into his eyes, then quickly looked away. "I haven't decided yet."

He chuckled softly. "That's fair."

When the song ended, they lingered for a moment before returning to the table, hearts beating a little faster, breaths a little shallower.

The rest of the evening passed in a kind of haze—comfortable, unhurried.

And when the check came, Ross paid without a second thought.

"I'll take you home," he said, already on his feet.

Amanda opened her mouth to protest but stopped.

There was something about his presence tonight—gentle, nonintrusive—that made her want to say yes, if only just this once.

The car ride was quiet, the city lights casting golden patterns across the windshield.

Amanda leaned her head slightly against the window, her thoughts swirling.

She still couldn't quite figure him out. Was this the real Ross Oakley?

Or just another version he showed to women he wanted?

They pulled up in front of her building, and Ross stepped out to open the door for her.

He walked her to the front steps, the silence between them filled with things neither had yet dared to say.

"Well," she said, unsure of how to end the night.

Ross leaned in—not bold, not pushy—and kissed her gently on the cheek. It was a brief touch, but it sent a soft warmth through her chest.

"Goodnight, Amanda," he said with a small smile.

"Goodnight," she replied, her voice quieter than she expected.

She watched him walk back to the car. He didn't look back.

Amanda stood there for a long moment, one hand brushing against her cheek where he'd kissed her.

It had been a simple night. No grand declarations. No promises.

And yet, something inside her had shifted.

She turned slowly and walked into her apartment, closing the door behind her.

Upstairs, as she slipped out of the red dress and into something soft and loose, Amanda caught her reflection in the mirror.

Her lips were curved in the faintest smile, and her eyes… they were still glowing.

She lay in bed that night unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts circling one quiet truth.

Ross Oakley wasn't at all what she expected.

And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.

***

Another week passed, and once again, Amanda received a message from Ross. A simple invitation.

No pressure. No assumptions. Just another friendly outing—like all the others.

She stared at the screen for a full minute before responding.

Yes.

The answer came too quickly. Again.

Amanda groaned, tossing her phone on the bed as she sat down, clutching a pillow to her chest. "I'm such an easy girl. I shouldn't have done that," she whispered to herself.

And yet… her heart fluttered at the thought of seeing him again.

This had become a pattern now. A rhythm of sorts. An unspoken agreement between them.

What had started as a one-time dinner had turned into a full-blown routine—an emotional habit that was getting harder and harder to break.

They saw each other at least once a week. Sometimes twice. Always casual. Always "just friends."

But it never felt casual to Amanda. Not anymore.

There had been movie nights, where they shared popcorn and soft glances in the dark.

Rooftop bars with glittering city lights and whispered jokes over cocktails.

Dance clubs where Ross would offer his hand and hold her close without a hint of impropriety.

And dinners—so many dinners—where he would listen to her stories as if they were the most important thing in the world.

Not once had he crossed the line. Not once had he touched her inappropriately.

He was always respectful, always patient. That, more than anything, was what made it so confusing.

Because now… she wanted him to.

Amanda had spent weeks trying to bury her feelings under excuses.

It's just admiration… it's just loneliness… it's just the thrill. But the truth had become harder to ignore with every passing day.

She was falling in love with him.

Not the powerful billionaire, not the tabloid icon, not the man with wives and fame and mystery.

She was falling for Ross. The man who knew how she liked her tea.

Who remembered her birthday without a reminder. Who texted her silly memes at midnight just to make her laugh.

The man who looked at her like she was a secret he couldn't wait to explore.

And it was eating her alive.

She had a boyfriend. He had multiple wives. Yet here they were, orbiting each other like two stars waiting to collide.

It all came to a head on a cool Friday evening.

They had just finished a casual dinner at a quiet little spot Ross had discovered.

They walked along the cobbled sidewalk, passing quiet cafés and glowing streetlamps.

Amanda could barely hear what Ross was saying anymore. Her mind was too loud.

Without thinking, she stopped walking.

Ross noticed immediately. "Amanda?"

"Do you like me, Ross?" she asked, voice tight. Her heart pounded so loud it echoed in her ears.