[BL]Reborn as the Empire’s Most Desired Omega

Mia started to wonder when her life became such a show. Just a few weeks ago she was one of the communications assistants, calibrating tablets for the main Fitzgeralt domain, shuffling through signal reports and muttering at bad software updates. Now she was standing in a sunlit drawing room surrounded by bolts of silk and satin she didn't care to know about, balancing a stylus worth more than her old monthly salary, and in the middle of it all… Lucas.

He didn't even look out of place. Green eyes sharp, posture languid, every word calculated to draw blood or laughter depending on his aim

Mia glanced at her notes, then back at him as he dismissed Cressida's warning about the ceremony with a crooked grin. 'God,' she thought, 'when did I get drafted into this?'

Her screen pinged with another update from palace staff. She almost missed the exchange when Lucas leaned back, smirked at Cressida, and drawled, "Why wouldn't I be calm? This is just paperwork in a prettier room."

Serathine's chuckle cut through the air, rich and smooth. "You're calm because you've already decided who stands beside you."

"You mean the one he dragged into this mess," Mia said, sighing and thumbing another notification shut. Her stylus hovered uselessly above the screen. "Some of us were not born with a handbook for surviving imperial ceremonies."

Lucas didn't even glance up from the tray of ties Everin, the tailor, had laid out. "You can say that too," he murmured, green eyes glinting, "but as a member of the Black family, you can't miss this." He plucked up a deep purple tie, the shade so close to Trevor's eyes it might as well have been chosen to make a statement, only for Everin to make a strangled noise as though personally offended. "That reminds me… where is Andrew?"

"With Lord Trevor and Milo," Mia replied, resigned. "They're trying to make it look as if Andrew's been nobility from birth. Anyone who hasn't met him yet isn't good enough to find out otherwise."

Cressida gave a soft, dangerous laugh from where she lounged in an armchair, pearls flashing at her ears. "A neat trick. He'll have to practice his fork placement until his fingers bleed, but it works."

"I don't think they care about that yet," Mia replied without looking up from her screen, her tone perfectly flat. "They've got other problems to solve first. And, honestly, it's not that hard. Start from the rightmost fork and work your way in with each course." She flicked her stylus to dismiss yet another palace message, unbothered.

Serathine arched an elegant brow at her over the rim of her teacup. "Look at you, reciting etiquette as if you were born to it."

Mia finally glanced up, one brow quirking. "I calibrate tablets for a living, Duchess. Forks are easy."

Lucas's green eyes gleamed with quiet amusement as he looped the purple tie around his collar, letting Everin fuss with the knot. "And yet, somehow, you're still going to look better at my presentation than half the nobility."

Mia snorted, shaking her head. "Lucas, that's a low bar. Try looking good with no brand names and no tailor." Her eyes flicked up briefly, softening the jab. "No offense, Everin."

The tailor's hands never faltered on the knot. "None taken, Lady Mia," he murmured, his accent crisp and professional. "But even the best cut can only do so much. It's the person who wears it who sells the illusion."

Lucas tilted his head toward the mirror, catching Mia's reflection behind him. "See? He agrees with me. You'll fit right in."

Mia rolled her eyes and flicked another notification off her screen. "Right. A girl who used to spend her lunch break hiding in the comms room, now in pearls at the palace. I'm sure the aristocracy will be dazzled."

Serathine's chuckle glided through the room, smooth as silk. "Oh, they'll be more than dazzled. They'll be unsettled. Which is better."

Lucas's grin turned faintly wicked at that, green eyes meeting Mia's in the mirror. "Exactly. And unsettling is something you're already very good at."

"I have the feeling that you want someone to distract nobles and rumors from you," Mia said, narrowing her eyes at his reflection.

"Bingo." Lucas's tone was light, but the little spark of strategy in his expression gave him away. He flicked his fingers toward the tailor like a conductor setting an orchestra in motion. "Now… Everin, work your talents on her."

The tailor looked up from Lucas's tie, one brow rising, his needle-and-thread smile razor-sharp. "On Lady Mia? That will be a challenge worthy of my skills." He stepped back from Lucas with a small bow, already assessing Mia's posture and coloring with a professional's eye.

Mia leaned back in her chair, giving Lucas a flat look. "I don't know whether to thank you or strangle you."

Cressida gave a small, dangerous laugh from her seat, pearls gleaming at her ears. "Both would be traditional."

Serathine's amber gaze softened just slightly, but her smile stayed knowing. "Relax, Mia. You'll look like you were born to this by the time he's finished. And Lucas…" she tilted her head toward him, "…will owe you more than pearls for using you as a decoy."

Lucas spread his hands in mock innocence. "I always pay my debts. In style."

Everin tapped his measuring tape against his palm. "Then let's begin. If you're to unsettle an entire hall of nobles, Lady Mia, you'll need something that moves as sharply as your tongue."

A discreet chime from the foyer broke the rhythm of Everin's tape measure and Mia's resigned muttering. One of the footmen slipped in, bowed, and announced, "Master Benjamin LaVierre, Duchess."

Before anyone could reply, Benjamin was already sweeping through the doorway in a storm of soft wool and gold cufflinks, his long scarf trailing like a banner. His dark hair caught the light as he removed his sunglasses with a flourish and tucked them into his breast pocket, the very picture of a man who had no idea how to enter quietly.

"Finally," he declared, his accent a polished drawl that belonged equally in ateliers and scandal columns. "I deliver a masterpiece, and yet all I hear are rumors about ties, forks, and who is distracting whom. Where's my Grand Duchess?"

Lucas blinked at him through the mirror, then smirked. "Eating toast upstairs. Or plotting. Probably both."

Benjamin's eyes flicked over the room, Serathine in her old-money poise, Cressida gleaming with pearls, Mia with her tablet still clutched like a shield, and his smile widened. "And this must be your new lady-in-waiting. Excellent. I was beginning to wonder if you would ever let me meet the people you actually choose."

Mia's brows went up. "You're the jeweler?"

Benjamin placed a hand over his heart, feigning a wound. "The jeweler? My dear, I am the jeweler. Benjamin LaVierre. Dax and Trevor's favorite scapegoat, maker of impossible deadlines, and…" his eyes sparkled, a conspirator's glance to Lucas, "a friend of our Grand Duchess. Which makes me, by association, a friend of yours."

Serathine's amber gaze glinted with quiet amusement at his theatrics. "He brought the ring," she murmured, sipping her tea.

Benjamin nodded once, suddenly sincere beneath the flourishes. "I did. It's with Trevor. He wanted to give it to Lucas himself. But I thought…" he flicked a glance back at Mia. "…if Lucas is building a court, I should know who I'm designing for."

Mia tilted her head, stylus still in hand. "Designing for?"

Benjamin's grin returned, quick and sharp. "Darling, jewels are weapons. I like to know my allies." He turned back to Lucas with an elegant half-bow. "So. Are you going to introduce me, or do I have to start guessing titles?"

Lucas chuckled, green eyes glinting as he gestured between them. "Benjamin LaVierre, meet Lady Mia Black, my soon-to-be lady-in-waiting. Mia, this is Benjamin, the man who made our rings in seventy-two hours and survived."