Evil MC's NTR Harem Chapter 911 Point

"Mind if I sit here? Looks like you’ve got the best seat in the place."

She blinked. Her heart hamred in her chest.

A dozen answers fought to co out at once, but all she managed was a mute nod.

How could she ever say no to a larger than life man like Ross Oakley.

Ross chuckled under his breath and slid into the seat opposite her, setting his tray down.

He took a sip of his Coke as if nothing about this mont was unusual.

For him, maybe it wasn’t. For her, it was surreal—dreamlike, almost absurd.

She sat frozen for a mont, burger half-eaten in her hands, unsure if she should say sothing or just let the silence stretch.

The sound of her own heartbeat filled her ears, drowning out the chatter and clatter of the restaurant.

Ross glanced at her, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

"Relax. I don’t bite. Not unless it’s a burger." He held one up, grinning, before taking a bite.

That broke the tension just enough for her to laugh—softly, nervously.

She lowered her gaze, cheeks warm, and tried to remind herself that he was just a man sitting across from her.

And yet, every part of her knew this mont wasn’t ordinary. This was Ross Oakley.

And this was the very first mont their paths crossed.

She would look back on it for years to co as the beginning of everything.

Ross and the young woman ate in silence for a minute, the noise of the restaurant filling the air—the sizzle of the fryers, the chatter of other students, the clink of trays being set down.

For Carrie, every sound felt muted, distant, as if the entire world had dimd the mont Ross Oakley sat across from her.

Then, true to his nature, Ross broke the silence with ease.

He leaned forward slightly, confidence radiating off him in a way that was neither forced nor arrogant—it was simply who he was.

"You were right earlier," he said with that signature half-smile, the one she’d seen countless tis on television and in magazines.

"I’m Ross. Pleasure to et you..."

He extended his hand across the table, pausing for her to respond.

"Carrie," she replied, her voice quieter than she intended. She placed her hand in his.

The mont their skin touched, she felt it—strength.

His hand was large, warm, and steady, the grip firm yet effortless, like he could crush hers without aning to, yet chose restraint.

It wasn’t just a handshake; it was the kind of touch that carried power, dominance, and certainty.

For a heartbeat, she forgot to breathe.

Carrie forced herself to look up into his face, and the sight only deepened her awe.

He was already past forty—she knew that from headlines and biographies—but sitting here now, it was impossible to believe.

He looked like a man in his mid-twenties, carved by youth and vigor, as if he lived permanently in his pri.

His skin was unlined, his eyes sharp, his presence magnetic.

And it wasn’t just his appearance.

Behind that face was the legend: Ross Oakley, the man with dozens of wives—each one a beauty that could grace the stage of any Miss Universe contest.

He was a billionaire, an NBA champion, a movie star, a man whose life had outgrown ordinary definitions.

Ross Oakley wasn’t just a man anymore. He was a force of nature, larger than life itself.

Sitting across from him, Carrie felt the air thicken, heavy with his aura.

She couldn’t describe it any other way—just being near him made her feel smaller, fragile, as though she had stumbled into the orbit of soone far beyond her reach.

And then he looked at her.

Not a passing glance, not a casual flicker of his eyes—he looked at her, steady and unblinking, as if she was the only person in the room.

Carrie’s pulse spiked.

Under the weight of his gaze, she felt stripped bare, every defense peeled away.

It was like he could see through her skin, into her heart, into every hidden longing she had never spoken aloud.

She shifted in her seat, suddenly aware of how tightly she was clutching her soda cup.

A warmth crept up her neck and into her cheeks.

Ross’s lips curved again, not unkindly, but with a faint trace of amusent—as though he already knew what she was feeling, as though he’d seen this reaction a thousand tis in a thousand different faces.

"Carrie," he repeated softly, rolling her na on his tongue. "Pretty na."

The simple complint made her chest tighten.

She wanted to say sothing back, anything at all, but her throat felt dry, her thoughts a tangled ss.

For all the boys who had chased her in the past, none had ever made her feel like this.

She had always been in control, aloof, distant. But here and now, under Ross Oakley’s gaze, she felt completely defenseless.

It was the first ti in her life she realized how dangerous attraction could be.

"Thanks," Carrie replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her shyness showed in the way she lowered her eyes and fidgeted with the straw of her drink.

There was nothing in the world that could make her feel brave in front of Ross Oakley—a man who had achieved everything she could only dream of.

He had money, fa, power, and the kind of legendary reputation that made people treat him like royalty wherever he went.

She, on the other hand, was just a struggling college student, still completely reliant on her parents’ support.

She’d thought about taking on part-ti jobs like many of her classmates, but her parents had insisted she focus on her studies alone.

Compared to the empire Ross Oakley commanded, her life felt so small, so ordinary, almost laughable.

And yet, here he was. Sitting across from her. Speaking to her.

Carrie could hardly believe how the night had unfolded, how fate had decided to push her into the orbit of soone so far above her world.