[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 75: Morning

Chapter 75: Chapter 75: Morning

Trevor didn’t move from the chair.

He heard the water running.

He didn’t listen for anything else.

Trevor had already cleared the tablet, refilled his coffee, and refolded Lucas’s discarded blanket into clean thirds when Windstone entered the room, exactly eight minutes after the chime.

"Breakfast will be ready in five," Windstone said, stepping inside with his usual precision. "The jeweler is already here. Eager. Ready to get your money."

Trevor glanced up. "Is he early?"

"He’s punctual," Windstone corrected. "Which, in noble circles, is the same as desperation."

Trevor set his coffee down. "Did he bring the designs?"

"He brought a portfolio the size of a treaty and enough sample rings to trigger an audit." A pause. "He also complimented the window trim."

Trevor arched an eyebrow. "You insulted him, didn’t you?"

Windstone straightened a spoon with surgical precision. "Not enough to get rid of him. Yet. But I will after we receive the rings."

His eyes flicked briefly to Trevor’s hand, the platinum catching the light from the high windows—clean, simple, expensive without being ornate. If it weren’t for the dead house sigil, Windstone might have said the ring matched the wearer.

But the new couple’s rings couldn’t be just anything; even if they wouldn’t match Trevor, the man wearing it hadn’t taken it off since it was placed.

Windstone didn’t comment.

He just adjusted the edge of the tray by half a centimeter and stepped back like the conversation had ended.

Lucas stepped out of the bathroom then, still towel-damp and sharp-eyed, but quiet.

Trevor didn’t look away from Windstone as he said, evenly, "Let him eat. Then we’ll deal with the diamonds."

Windstone inclined his head. "If he chooses diamonds."

"He will."

Lucas sat down in silence, the smell of eggs and toast folding into the morning air like punctuation.

Windstone was already gone.

Trevor passed over the coffee, still warm.

"I don’t like diamonds." It was an honest remark; Lucas had received from Christian in the past life to literally dress him in them. He always said that it matched him.

Trevor looked at him for a long second.

There was more behind it—he could feel the weight of something left unsaid, but he didn’t ask. Not yet. They had time now. All the time in the world, and Trevor had no intention of spending it dragging ghosts into the morning.

"I’m sure he has something equally expensive," Trevor said instead, his voice smooth. "Or even more expensive."

Lucas glanced over then, just briefly, his mouth tugging into something between skepticism and amusement.

Trevor reached for his coffee. "Now let’s eat and dress you up. I plan to show you the manor. And the city."

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "You’re giving me a tour?"

"You’re the Grand Duchess," Trevor said. "People need to see you. And you need to see what’s yours."

Lucas didn’t argue.

He just took another bite of toast, slower this time.

—

The sitting room on the second floor had been prepared hours ago.

Wide windows let in the early sun, softened by long curtains drawn halfway back. A pot of fresh coffee sat on the silver table between two velvet armchairs, untouched. The air smelled faintly of paper, wax, and cedar polish, a new order layered on old money.

Trevor stood near the windows, adjusting his gold cufflinks without hurry. His shirt was crisp, coat unbuttoned. He looked as if the room, and the morning, belonged to him.

Lucas sat in the opposite chair, leg crossed, a navy coat loose over his shoulders, hands folded neatly in his lap. His expression was unreadable. Sharp. Composed. The kind of expression that could pass for civility or contempt, depending on how you looked at it.

The knock came soft and precise.

Windstone opened the door.

"Your Grace. The jeweler." free\NovelFire.c o(m)

"Let him in," Lucas said, tone flat. "Before he melts from anticipation."

The man who entered didn’t bow.

He stepped in like he owned the floor—tall, overdressed, and unapologetically dramatic. His suit was tailored so well it looked like it hated the body it was on, and his smile was too polished to be professional.

He stopped two steps inside the room, took one look at Trevor—

—and froze.

"Oh, you bastard."

Lucas blinked.

Trevor sighed. "Benjamin."

"You let me walk in here and recite my prepared introduction like I’m some glorified peddler," Benjamin snapped, arms flaring as if affront had a physical shape. "Would it kill you to send an invitation to the wedding? Or at least a message? A note? A damn courier pigeon that said, ’Hey, Benjamin, by the way—I’m marrying someone and it’s not a business merger or a scandal coverup. Please don’t wear sequins.’"

Trevor didn’t flinch. "I thought about it."

"Thinking about it is not the same as doing it, Trevor," Benjamin said, pacing two slow, deliberate steps forward like he needed to stretch his indignation across the room. "You let me walk into a marriage meeting with my favorite cufflinks and the absolute wrong emotional context."

"You always wear your favorite cufflinks."

"That is entirely beside the point."

Lucas, who had not yet spoken, sipped his coffee and tilted his head. "Are you usually like this or is this just a reaction to being excluded from high society gossip?"

Benjamin turned toward him with a flourish. "Ah. The duchess has teeth."

"I’m just tired," Lucas said. "And watching you flail is better than breakfast."

Trevor looked toward Windstone, who had not moved from his position by the door. "How long until he actually opens the portfolio?"

Windstone replied without blinking. "Three minutes. Four, if he monologues."

Benjamin looked betrayed. "I do not monologue."

"You just did."

"I was expressing betrayal."

"You’re still doing it."

Lucas bit back a smile and leaned into the chair. "If this is how all your friends are, I’m going to need stronger coffee."

Benjamin crossed his arms. "At least someone in this marriage has charm."

Trevor finally lifted his hand toward the portfolio. "Can we begin?"