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

They left the office together, Trevor's hand resting lightly at the small of Lucas's back as they stepped into the long gallery. Afternoon light poured in through the tall windows, catching on polished wood and gilt frames. The manor felt bigger without voices ricocheting off the walls.

"Mia and Lucius?" Lucas asked as they passed the landing.

"Gone," Trevor said. "Contract in hand, chaperones in tow. Windstone put them in a car himself."

Lucas huffed a small laugh. "He probably made them sign for it like a courier package."

"Wouldn't put it past him." Trevor's thumb brushed over the back of Lucas's hand. "Alistair and Benjamin are still in town, but they're giving us space for once."

"Miracles happen," Lucas murmured.

They turned a corner into the smaller hall that led toward the private dining room. Windstone appeared at the far end, as immaculate as ever, a folder tucked under one arm and an expression hovering somewhere between dutiful and disgruntled. He inclined his head when he saw them.

"Everything in order?" Trevor asked.

Windstone's eyes flicked briefly to Lucas, then back to Trevor. "Yes, sir. The guests are managed. The east wing is quiet. And," a pause, "the clinic forwarded its report."

Lucas caught the faintest downturn of the butler's mouth. "Disappointed, Windstone?" he asked dryly.

"Not at all," Windstone said, but his tone betrayed him. "Merely recalibrating my schedule. I had allowed for a shortened timeline. This way I have more time to prepare."

"Prepare what?" Lucas asked, one brow rising.

"The nursery staff, the security protocols, the pediatric wing of the household accounts…" Windstone's list unspooled with his usual precision. "It is, after all, my job to ensure the next generation is as well looked after as the current one."

Lucas blinked at him, then at Trevor, who was trying, and failing, not to smile. "He's really invested," Lucas muttered.

Trevor squeezed his shoulder. "He's run this place for twenty years. He's planning his succession too."

Windstone gave the smallest bow. "Precisely. In the meantime, lunch is ready in the blue dining room." He turned on his heel and disappeared down the corridor, already pulling a pen from his breast pocket to make another note.

Lucas and Trevor exchanged a look, then started walking again. "We're surrounded by schemers," Lucas said under his breath.

"True," Trevor agreed, amusement in his voice. "But at least ours are house-trained."

The quiet between them as they walked on felt earned rather than empty, a brief stretch of time that belonged only to them.

—

By the time they reached the blue dining room, the table had already been laid: crisp white cloth, heavy silver, and, in the center, dishes sending up curls of steam. Windstone had outdone himself as usual; the air smelled of butter, herbs, and roasted meat instead of polished wood and cedar.

Trevor held Lucas's chair as he sat, then took the seat to his left. Windstone poured water and retreated to his usual post at the sideboard, watchful but discreet.

Lucas carved into the steak on his plate, the knife sliding through easily, and took his first bite. His eyes closed for a heartbeat. "Finally," he said, swallowing. "Something that isn't a sad salad or a canapé the size of my thumb."

Trevor chuckled, cutting his own steak. "Country air and country food. Not as glamorous as the capital, but infinitely better."

Lucas scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes, butter pooling in the center. "This," he said solemnly, "is civilization."

Windstone inclined his head slightly. "Sir."

Lucas gave him a wry glance. "Don't look so pleased with yourself. I'm still craving fast food. One day I'm going to sneak out for burgers again, now that Mia has been stolen from me."

Windstone didn't even blink. "I've already sourced three local suppliers who meet your dietary requirements. Their menus are in your study."

Lucas blinked, then laughed. "Of course you have."

Trevor shook his head, smiling. "You'll never beat him. He's already planning for our child, and you can't even plan your next craving."

Lucas stabbed another piece of steak with a little more force than necessary. "Let me enjoy my mashed potatoes first," he muttered, but the corners of his mouth were curved in a faint smile.

Windstone, unbothered, refilled their glasses with water. "Mashed potatoes today," he said dryly. "Burgers tomorrow. A nursery next year. I plan for contingencies."

Lucas groaned and set his fork down long enough to rub his temple. "You two are incorrigible."

Trevor leaned back in his chair, violet eyes glinting with amusement. "You love it."

"Sometimes," Lucas admitted, spearing another bite. "Right now I just want to finish this plate before you start color-coding a diaper schedule."

Windstone coughed politely into his hand, but the sound suspiciously resembled a laugh. "I'm not color-coding, sir. Merely… outlining possibilities."

Lucas threw him a look but couldn't quite suppress a smile. "Possibilities," he echoed. "Fine. Possibilities can wait until after dessert."

Trevor reached over and brushed his fingers across Lucas's knuckles, a small grounding touch under the table. "Agreed," he murmured. "Eat first. Plot later."

—

They finished the meal at a slower pace, the clink of silverware and the low murmur of conversation the only sounds in the blue dining room. Windstone brought out a small plate of sliced fruit, but even he seemed content to let the meal end quietly. Lucas mopped up the last streak of butter from his potatoes with a crust of bread and pushed his plate away with a soft, satisfied sigh.

Trevor wiped his mouth with a napkin, still watching him with that faint, indulgent smile. "Feel better?"

"Civilized," Lucas said, leaning back in his chair. "Now I might survive another round of e-mails."

Windstone collected the plates with his usual efficiency. "If you'd like coffee in the garden, sir, it will be waiting."

"Later," Lucas murmured. "Right now I'm too full to move."

Trevor was about to make a teasing remark when his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen; the easy curve of his mouth flattened. "Dan Smith," he said quietly, their head of security. The name alone was enough to shift the room's mood.

Lucas arched an eyebrow. "That's not your lunchtime caller."

"No," Trevor said, already sliding the phone to his ear as he stood. "What is it, Dan?"

Windstone stilled mid-motion at the change in Trevor's tone. Lucas straightened a little in his chair but didn't speak, watching Trevor cross to the far corner of the room for privacy. Cedar and calm followed him, but under it Lucas could feel the flicker of something harder.

"Understood," Trevor said after a moment, voice clipped now. "Send me the full report. I'll be there in ten."

He ended the call and slipped the phone into his pocket, violet eyes meeting Lucas's across the table. "I have to step out," he said quietly. "Security issue."

Lucas raised a brow. "Bad?"

"Bad enough for Dan to call me directly." Trevor's gaze softened for a heartbeat. "Finish your coffee. I won't be long."

Windstone set down the tray with deliberate care, as if bracing for new orders. Lucas reached for his mug, the platinum band catching the light. "Go," he said. "Handle it. I'll try not to start another soap opera while you're gone."

Trevor's mouth quirked at that, then he bent and brushed a quick kiss to Lucas's hair before heading for the door, phone already back in his hand. The cedar scent lingered in his wake, mixing with the aroma of lunch and coffee. Lucas sipped his drink slowly, watching the door close behind him, the quiet of the manor settling back around him like a held breath.