Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 75

Chapter 75: The Plumber

She didn’t even notice it at first. The way her nipples had hardened, pressing against the soaked fabric in silent betrayal. The way her yoga pants were now slick, hugging her hips, clinging to the soft roundness of her ass like they were proud of it—even if her husband never was.

"¡Mierda! ¡No, no, no!" she hissed, slipping on wet tile as she scrambled for the valve, hands soaked and useless.

She gave up, bolted from the room, leaving a trail of chaos behind her—water pooling, hardwood floors screaming for mercy, and her own wet body looking like something out of an adult fantasy gone sideways.

Her soaked clothes slapped against her skin as she ran, curves on full display, the kind of sight a man would beg to see once in his life. Not that her man ever noticed.

Isabella stood there for a second too long, staring at her reflection in the mirror across the hallway, chest heaving, lips parted, dripping wet and looking like some forgotten goddess of domestic chaos.

A fantasy wrapped in frustration. A storm in soaked cotton.

And if Peter had been watching—if he was somewhere close, which he was—he could see it in her eyes. That crack. That need.

The moment before a woman stops waiting to be wanted...and starts daring someone to take her.

By the time she reached the upstairs bathroom, she was panting, pissed, and near tears—arms full of towels, tank top suctioned to her skin like it had a crush. She looked like every plumber’s wet dream... if the plumber happened to be watching from a camera hidden behind the mirror downstairs.

And he was.

Peter smirked from the Audi parked down the street, fingers lazily tapping the laptop. "Perfect timing," he muttered, voice low.

Madison leaned in, licking her bottom lip. "She’s already wet," she said, her voice smooth and smug. "All you have to do now... is show up."

*

She sprinted to the upstairs bathroom, grabbing towels while cursing in both languages, her wet hair dripping down her neck and her soaked clothing making her look like every plumber’s fantasy come to life.

When she returned downstairs, fumbling for her phone while trying to wrap a towel around herself, Isabella was breathing hard and fighting back tears of frustration. Her hands shook as she tried to dial, water still flooding her bathroom and probably damaging her floors.

The second Isabella’s thumb tapped her phone screen; Peter was already five steps ahead. His fingers flew across his laptop keyboard like a man playing a symphony of chaos—fast, fluid, and way too precise for anyone still bound by human limits.

"Network lockdown initiated," he muttered, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

Within seconds, the entire five-mile radius around Isabella’s posh little neighborhood was under his control. Not visually. Not legally. Technologically. Outbound calls? Silenced. Tower signals? Bent. Cell service? Pristine, untouched—because you couldn’t raise suspicion if everything looked perfectly normal.

But the moment someone tried to dial out?

Their call went straight to Daddy.

"Wait... you can actually hijack cell towers?" Madison blinked, leaning in, her voice laced with awe.

Peter didn’t look up. "I don’t hijack. I own. Enhanced digital manipulation, babe. The entire grid? That’s my sandbox."

The screen on Isabella’s phone glowed. She hit the contact for her sleazy, price-gouging plumber Bob—the guy who took three days to fix a toilet and still charged double. The call connected.

But instead of some hungover Bob grunting, a smooth, velvet-lined voice slid through the line like warm silk.

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