Chapter 216 - 215: Pool Party
After excusing himself from the walking tabloid headline that was the lip-locked celebrity couple, Rex wandered deeper into the mansion. He figured he’d already stumbled upon the wildest thing the night had to offer.
How wrong he was.
The mansion, true to its decadent design, wasn’t just one grand hall or a few glittery rooms thrown together. No, this place was a never-ending luxury labyrinth—a theme park for the ultra-rich, curated by someone who clearly thought "privacy" was an outdated concept. Velvet ropes? Guards? Please. This mansion was an open buffet of excess, and everyone was invited to stare.
Just as he was strolling lazily, he suddenly heard the sound of splashes. Drawn by the sound of splashing water and laughter, Rex found himself following a wide archway draped in sheer curtains that fluttered lazily in the breeze.
Waterfall sounds?
With rising curiosity, he rounded the corner and walked straight into what could only be described as a luxury indoor oasis—a space so extravagant it made Roman bathhouses look like dollar-store kiddie pools. The ceiling soared high above, carved with sea goddesses and sun motifs. An artificial waterfall cascaded dramatically down polished black stone into the shimmering pool, its gentle roar blending with upbeat lounge music.
And then his eyes widened.
And what he saw truly opened the eye of virgin(well..mentally) like him. It was like someone had opened a portal to a luxury swimsuit catalog. Dozens of bikini-clad beauties reclined on designer loungers, their oiled legs catching the ambient light like they’d been strategically placed by an art director. And equal number of them swimming around in the pool like little mermaids.
And of course, muscular models—shirtless and glistening—played lazy rounds of pool volleyball, sipping from champagne flutes like it was electrolyte water, showing their full charms. Laughter danced through the air as models flirted, splashed, and occasionally faked dramatic dives into the pool just for the attention.
