Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 166

Chapter 166: First Date

The phone felt hot against my ear, Isabella’s voice finally cooling from full panic mode down to "nagging but affectionate." Apparently she’d stormed down to the police station like a rejected rom-com heroine, only to find out I was already gone. Her relief when I called was so thick it could’ve clogged arteries.

"I’m fine, really. Sterling’s got everything handled," I said for maybe the tenth damn time. "Just focus on your evening. I’ll see you Tuesday."

"You promise you’re, okay? Peter, what you did was—"

"Necessary. And I’m fine. Promise."

After finally convincing her I hadn’t been extradited to Guantanamo, I hung up and stared at my reflection. Evening light filtered through my window, making the shadows carve my face into something older. Or maybe I just wanted to believe that.

I’d gone for casual but deliberate—dark jeans Madison picked out last week, black henley that made me look less like "kid who plays Fortnite till 2 AM" and more like "guy who maybe has seen a gym," and sneakers that didn’t look like they’d survived three civil wars. Not overdressed, but not careless either.

First real date of my life, and it’s with a twenty-five-year-old graduate student after jail. Because clearly, I hate peace of mind.

Downstairs, Mom was buried in patient charts. The living room smelled like Emma’s lavender candle (stress = lavender, always) mixed with Mom’s late-night coffee habit.

"Heading out?" she asked, eyes glued to paperwork.

"Yeah. Meeting a friend for coffee."

She hummed, already assuming I was running back to pick Madison since she wanted to sleep over but had to pick a few things home. She had that smug parent look—like, go on, son, sow your wild hormonal oats. If only she knew the "friend" was her colleague’s daughter, Nurse Luna, who made male teachers forget algebra existed when she walked by.

’That’d be a fun dinner convo: Hey Mom, I’m dating your hot coworker’s hot daughter who is eight years older than me. Can you pass the mashed potatoes and emotional trauma?’

Usually, I’d bike to Bari Street. But showing up to Valentina Luna sweaty and smelling like "Eau de Rusted Chain Grease" didn’t scream first-date material.

So I did something stupid. I hailed a taxi.

The yellow cab that rolled up looked like it had fought in ’Nam. Rust freckles everywhere, upholstery that probably had tetanus, and the driver who leaned out had the expression of a man whose favorite hobby was ruining lives.

"Where to, kid?"

Oh no. I knew that voice. That is why I called it stupid.

Ray Hutchinson. Local gossip factory, part-time cabbie, full-time pain in the ass. Also knew Mom. Which meant this ride was about to be fifteen minutes of verbal torture.

"University district. Starbucks on Bari."

Ray’s face lit up like I’d just offered him front-row tickets to a strip show. "Peter Carter! Haven’t seen you since you were yay high. How’s your mother? Still saving lives at Mercy General?"

I slid into the backseat, already considering if bailing at the next red light would kill me or just break a leg. "She’s good."

"Good? She’s a goddamn angel, that woman. Saved my cousin Marty last year, right in the ER. Heart attack—bam!—your mom had him back on his feet like Jesus rebooting Lazarus."

"Yeah," I said. "She mentioned that."

(She didn’t. But agreeing was faster than fact-checking.)

Ray merged into traffic like Moses parting the Red Sea—with zero hesitation and a death wish. "You know, she brags about you kids all the time. Sharp as whips. Sarah wants to be a lawyer, right? Or was it a doctor?"

"Doctor." No she doesn’t.

"That’s right! Following in her mom’s footsteps. Beautiful thing, tradition. My boy wanted to drive cabs like me, but I told him—Ray Jr., you gotta aim higher. Can’t all be blessed enough to chauffeur the future of America around."

’It is like being stuck in an NPR podcast I never subscribed to. If I survive this ride, I’m tipping the guy with a brick.’

The taxi itself smelled like cigarettes and disappointment.

’This is my punishment for not taking the bike. The universe is laughing at me. Probably with that smug Ryan Reynolds voice it saves for when my humiliation hits peak cinematic levels.’

"You heading somewhere special?" Ray’s eyes found me in the rearview, little detective glint. "All dressed up. Got yourself a girlfriend?"

"Just meeting a friend."

"At the university? Must be a smart friend. College girl?"

Graduate student who could diagnose your hypertension from three blocks away, but yeah, let’s downgrade her to "college girl."

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