[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 197: Plans for Dax

Chapter 197: Chapter 197: Plans for Dax

An hour later, the manor hummed with restrained activity, staff rushing like silent currents beneath the surface while the east terrace was cleared and polished to perfection. NovelFire

Trevor stood before the full-length mirror in his dressing room, adjusting the cuff of his formal jacket. Black and deep violet, the regalia of House Fitzgeralt, sat sharp against his frame, every seam immaculate, the ceremonial sash cutting a diagonal line across his chest. His dark hair was brushed back, and a silver pin at his collar caught the light with every movement. He looked every inch the Duke he was, a dominant presence wrapped in precision and tailored authority.

Lucas leaned against the wardrobe, tugging his own simple slate-gray jacket into place over a cream shirt and soft charcoal trousers. It was elegant without screaming for attention, a quiet balance to Trevor’s full regalia. A few loose strands of blond hair fell over his brow, giving him that easy, unhurried air he seemed to wear naturally.

Trevor turned from the mirror, sweeping his gaze over Lucas slowly. "You’re going to distract every photographer on that terrace."

Lucas raised an unimpressed brow, though his lips twitched with amusement. "Please. They are more interested in my newly found lineage and the clash between you and Dax." NovelFire

Trevor’s mouth curved into that slow, deliberate smile that always carried a hint of danger. He stepped closer, adjusting the fall of Lucas’s lapel with a touch that lingered a little longer than necessary.

"Clash?" Trevor echoed, voice low, amused. "You make it sound like he and I are meeting in the middle of the terrace with swords drawn."

Lucas’s green eyes sparkled, teasing and sharp. "You’re not?"

"Not unless he tries to steal you with a basket of croissants."

Lucas huffed a laugh, brushing a hand through his hair to tame an errant strand. "He wouldn’t dare. He knows you’d have him arrested before dessert."

Trevor’s storm‑dark eyes held his, and for a heartbeat the room softened, the hum of activity outside dimming into nothing. "He knows you wouldn’t go," Trevor said simply, and there was no edge to the words, just quiet certainty.

Lucas’s lips curved faintly, and he shifted off the wardrobe, smoothing the cuffs of his jacket. "Maybe. But I’ll still let him think he has a chance. It makes him bring better pastries."

Trevor’s laugh was low, rich, and warm enough to make Lucas’s chest tighten. He leaned down, pressing a fleeting kiss to the corner of Lucas’s mouth, careful not to muss the neat lines of his clothes. "Cruel," Trevor murmured. "Remind me not to play cards with you."

"Wise choice," Lucas replied, the edge of a grin playing at his lips. He turned toward the door, pausing just long enough to glance over his shoulder at Trevor. "Shall we? Before your old friend allies with Cressida and Serathine?"

Trevor’s brows lifted at that, the faintest huff of laughter escaping him as he followed Lucas to the door.

"Gods forbid," he said dryly, adjusting the fall of his sash one last time. "I’d rather face the entire parliament unarmed than let those three share strategy notes."

Lucas’s grin deepened, sly and amused, as he stepped into the corridor. "Oh, I don’t know. Might be entertaining to watch you sweat."

Trevor caught up easily, his hand brushing lightly against the small of Lucas’s back as they moved down the hall together. "Careful," he warned, voice low, edged with that teasing rumble that always made Lucas’s pulse skip. "Keep talking like that, and I’ll make sure you’re the one seated between them at dinner."

Lucas glanced up at him, green eyes bright with mischief. "I have an idea. What if we direct the matriarch’s attention from us to Dax? Let them find him a perfect pair."

Trevor’s steps slowed just a fraction, his hand still warm at the small of Lucas’s back as he turned his head to look down at him. For a heartbeat, those storm‑dark eyes widened in mock horror before narrowing with a slow, dangerous kind of amusement.

"You," Trevor murmured, his tone dropping into the velvety-soft range that always curled heat in Lucas’s chest, "are far more devious than anyone gives you credit for."

Lucas let his grin bloom, unrepentant. "Oh, please. Imagine Cressida and Serathine competing over who can present the most eligible candidate. Dax wouldn’t survive a single canapé."

Trevor chuckled, the sound low and rich, echoing softly against the corridor’s high ceiling. "You’re evil," he said, though there was no censure in it, only admiration, warm and fond.

"I’m practical," Lucas corrected, stepping through the sunlight spilling in from the terrace doors. "If Dax is going to parade through our home uninvited, the least we can do is make it... memorable."

Trevor’s laugh rumbled again, a dark, amused sound that had him leaning closer, lips brushing Lucas’s ear in a conspiratorial whisper as the noise of the terrace swelled ahead.

"You know what? Let’s do it. Someone has to humble our crowned friend."

Lucas’s answering smile was sharp and slow, the kind that made Trevor’s pulse beat just a little harder despite the layers of protocol waiting for them beyond those doors.

"Oh, I plan to," Lucas murmured, his voice velvet‑soft with amusement. "Just wait until Serathine and Cressida get the scent. They’ll have him cornered between champagne flutes before he even reaches the pastry table."

Trevor’s low laugh rumbled against the curve of Lucas’s ear. "And you’ll be watching?"

Lucas tilted his head, green eyes glinting as they caught Trevor’s storm‑dark gaze. "Of course. Someone has to make sure you don’t intervene too soon. Let him sweat first."

"You are dangerous," Trevor said, and there was no mistaking the fondness that slipped through the smooth, disciplined tone. He pressed a palm lightly to the small of Lucas’s back again, guiding him toward the open terrace doors as the muted hum of staff and the distant whir of cameras bled into the air.

"And yet," Lucas teased softly, leaning close enough that his shoulder brushed Trevor’s arm, "you still married me."

Trevor’s answering smile was dark and steady, the kind that carried both pride and possession in equal measure. "Willingly," he murmured, just before they stepped out into the sunlight and the waiting eyes of the terrace.

Outside, the manor’s gardens stretched in a sweep of manicured green and bright blossoms, the air humming faintly with anticipation. Staff lined the edges in perfect formation, press lenses already glinting in the soft morning light. The distant sound of an approaching motorcade echoed against the gravel path, and somewhere overhead the hum of a descending jet still lingered in the air.

Trevor straightened to his full height, a vision in black and deep violet, every inch the Duke the world expected him to be. Beside him, Lucas fell into step with easy grace, slate gray catching the sun in quiet contrast, his expression calm, unbothered, almost amused.

They stood together at the head of the terrace, side by side as the first car rolled into view, and Trevor murmured just low enough for only Lucas to hear:

"Ready to start the game?"

Lucas didn’t look at him, only let the corner of his mouth curve. "Always."