[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 180: Benjamin the uninvited guest

Chapter 180: Chapter 180: Benjamin the uninvited guest

The next morning, the manor hummed with a suspicious kind of peace, the kind that always came before a parade of fashion, clashing matriarchs, or urgent palace summons. Lucas sat in the sunroom with his legs tucked beneath him on the chaise, a book open but thoroughly ignored in favor of sipping iced tea and pretending the world didn’t exist. He wore loose clothing, his hair damp from the garden breeze, and his eyes narrowed slightly like someone who had survived battle but not its paperwork.

The butler’s soft knock on the glass door announced the arrival of something worse than responsibility.

"Your Grace," Windstone intoned with dry precision, "Lord Benjamin is here to see the Grand Duke."

Lucas didn’t look up. He simply took another long sip of his iced tea, the kind that spoke of summer rebellion and a refusal to entertain drama before noon.

"Trevor’s upstairs," he said at last, lazily flipping a page he hadn’t read. "Tell him to come back in an hour. Or never. Whichever fits his outfit."

Windstone, to his credit, didn’t even twitch. "He said he came early on purpose."

Lucas narrowed his eyes at the glass. "That sounds like something he’d say before unveiling a jacket that costs more than a state-funded opera."

A beat.

"He also brought pastries."

Lucas paused. Considered. Then sighed and closed the book properly, setting it aside like one would a beloved but demanding child. "Let him in. But if he’s wearing sequins again, I’m invoking diplomatic immunity."

Windstone inclined his head and disappeared like smoke. A moment later, the door creaked open, and in swept Benjamin LaVierre, no sequins this time, but he wore cream trousers, an embroidered collar, and sunglasses that were absolutely unnecessary indoors.

"Good morning, Your Grace," he announced, as if the room needed narration. "You look devastatingly bored. I approve."

Lucas gave him a look that could have curdled milk. "It’s a rest day."

"Perfect. Rest days are when personalities emerge." Benjamin strolled across the tiles and deposited a small box and a pastry bag on the side table like gifts to a god. "And I come bearing tribute. Your favorite, the lemon tarts from that illegal bakery Trevor pretends not to know about."

Lucas plucked the bag with suspicious elegance and took one slow bite. "How do you know this is my favorite?"

Benjamin smiled, all teeth and implications. "Because I asked Windstone. And because I remember everything."

"Disturbing."

"I prefer the term ’attentive.’"

Lucas chewed slowly, eyes still fixed on Benjamin like he was trying to decide whether to thank him or exile him. "You know, most people ask how I’m doing before trying to bribe me."

"Please," Benjamin scoffed, lowering himself with artful disinterest into the armchair across from the chaise. "Asking how someone is doing is for dull people and medical professionals. I already know how you are."

Lucas raised a brow.

"You’re annoyed. Slightly tired. Considering bolting to the greenhouse just to avoid conversations about centerpieces and dynastic symbols. And you’re one more social obligation away from pretending to faint." NovelFire

Lucas licked the lemon curd off his thumb with slow, deliberate grace. "You’ve been speaking to Cressida."

Benjamin grinned. "Obviously. I needed a briefing before facing you. The woman keeps dossiers."

Lucas set the tart down and picked up his tea again. "Did her file on me include blood type and likelihood of homicide?"

"No, but it did say you get mean when hungry and wear loose clothing when you want to be left alone."

Lucas paused. "Disturbing and attentive."

"I’m making it a brand," Benjamin said brightly. "You should try it. We could match."

"I don’t need to match anyone," Lucas said, voice like velvet drawn over a blade. "I’m already married."

Benjamin placed a dramatic hand over his heart. "That sounded like a threat."

"Good. It was."

For a moment, only the faint buzz of morning cicadas could be heard outside, a sound so peaceful it felt misplaced in the presence of someone like Benjamin, who looked like he could weaponize a handkerchief if insulted properly.

Lucas leaned back into the cushions again, expression unreadable. "Why are you really here?"

Benjamin tilted his head, and for a moment, the shine dulled, just slightly. "Because Trevor said you’ve been hiding from the upcoming estate war, and I wanted to see if you were hiding well."

"So you know that Serathine and Cressida are coming."

"I know your public wedding is coming."

Lucas gave him a flat look, the kind reserved for sudden weather changes and disappointing pastries. "So you came here to bask in my misery?"

Benjamin smiled, sharp and unrepentant. "I came to assess it. Bask, perhaps. Possibly offer a hat."

Lucas narrowed his eyes. "A hat?"

"For the occasion," Benjamin said, gesturing vaguely toward the window like the sun itself had RSVP’d. "Something dramatic, with structural integrity. You’ll need cover when the duchesses arrive and try to rearrange your wedding and your life like matching sofa sets."

Lucas took another slow bite of tart. "I don’t want to know. Honestly, I hoped to remain low until the news of my imperial bloodline tone down."

Benjamin gave a laugh that was far too elegant to be sympathetic. "Oh, sweetheart. That ship not only sailed, it lit itself on fire, performed a full operatic overture, and docked again with ceremony."

Lucas didn’t flinch. "I’m aware."

"Are you?" Benjamin asked, voice softening around the edges. "Because if I had learned I was the secret son of the Emperor and survived being sold by my mother and ended up married into one of the richest bloodlines in the continent, I’d at least demand a parade."

Lucas gave him a sidelong glance. "You’d design the parade route yourself."

"Obviously. With sequined horses. And a minor royal scandal involving fireworks."

Lucas exhaled, eyes drifting back toward the sun-washed garden. "They’re going to make a spectacle of me."

Benjamin sobered slightly. "You are a spectacle. Not because of bloodlines, or titles, or fashion warlords in pearls. Because you didn’t break when you should’ve. That makes people stare. And want. And fear."

Lucas didn’t answer right away. His voice, when it came, was low and dry. "And what do you want, Benjamin?"

Benjamin didn’t miss a beat. "To see you win."

Lucas blinked.

"I know what it looks like from the outside," Benjamin went on, tone lighter again, but not flippant. "Duchess. Ward. Heir. Imperial scandal. But Trevor didn’t marry a pawn. And you sure as hell aren’t acting like one."

Lucas tilted his head, faint amusement flickering behind his eyes. "This is your version of encouragement?"

"This is me," Benjamin said, brushing invisible dust from his lapel, "reminding you that you’ve already survived the worst parts of this story. The rest is just tailoring."

Lucas sighed. "Spoken like a true jeweler."

Benjamin smirked. "I’ll embroider it on a sash."

They fell into a rare silence, companionable and strange. Outside, the breeze shifted. Somewhere in the manor, Windstone was probably plotting new seating arrangements in case Serathine and Cressida declared war over the centerpiece selection.