[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 82: First day of responsibility

Chapter 82: Chapter 82: First day of responsibility

The study was quiet, tucked away in the northern wing, far enough from the main estate traffic to prevent anyone from wandering in by accident. The same light filtered through the tall windows, warming the oak shelves and casting long, thoughtful shadows across the thick rugs.

Lucas sat at the desk in Trevor’s study, a tablet in one hand and a sleek computer in front of him.

Trevor stood near the open cabinet by the far wall, reviewing a few sealed folders as Windstone prepared another tablet—this one loaded with the estate’s current standings: staff lists, diplomatic requests, security clearances, and the rotating mess that was internal finance.

Lucas scanned the screen, his thumb brushing the edge. He had the other day to rest after the house tour, but today he was already introduced to his new role.

His name was listed there. Officially. Not beside Trevor’s in a footnote.

Not in delicate parentheses, an accessory to someone else’s position. But as co-head of estate affairs.

"Everything marked in blue is yours to review," Trevor said, his voice calm, steady, and almost unbearably normal. "You don’t have to approve them all immediately, but the staff will report to you directly starting next week."

Lucas looked up. "That’s a lot."

"It’s yours," Trevor said simply. "If you want it."

The tablet wasn’t heavy.

But the trust behind it was.

Lucas sat back slightly, his gaze drawn to the desk, tracing the faint ridges in the polished wood, the soft texture of the leather blotter, and the low hum of an air-conditioned room.

In another life, a man had locked him inside a glass house and called it protection.

Christian had whispered that love meant obedience. That safety meant silence. That responsibility was too heavy for someone as fragile as Lucas.

He hadn’t been allowed near ledgers, or decisions, or doors.

Only mirrors. Rules that changed daily. After the bond was formed, long hours were spent waiting for Christian’s attention, approval, or something more than decorative significance.

Now—

"You’re giving me control over the staff?" he said softly, still looking down. "Security clearance, internal authority... all of it?"

Trevor didn’t hesitate. "Yes."

Lucas blinked once. Hard.

He could still hear Christian’s voice—elegant, smug—insisting that estate meetings would overwhelm him. That politics was for alphas. That Lucas’s only job was to be pleasing.

But Trevor—

Trevor had given him a chair.

A key. A digital signature that didn’t require anyone else’s permission.

Lucas swallowed once. Then looked up.

"I don’t know what I’m doing," he admitted. Not as a warning. Just the truth.

Trevor smiled softly, his violet eyes catching the light. "You’ll learn."

"And if I mess it up?"

"Then we fix it. Together."

Lucas exhaled slowly, like something inside him had finally been released after years of being held underwater. NovelFire

He turned back to the screen and tapped the first notification.

"I’ll start with the internal reports."

Windstone, unbothered as ever, nodded. "I’ve color-coded them based on threat level and idiocy."

Lucas smirked faintly. "Very considerate."

Trevor leaned against the desk beside him.

And for the first time in either of his lives, Lucas felt real.

—

Windstone stepped out of the room with quiet efficiency, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

Lucas didn’t speak for a moment. He sat with one hand still resting on the tablet, the other hovering near the keyboard like he wasn’t sure which file to open next.

Trevor didn’t move either. He was reading a document on his tablet, leaning his hip against the desk a few feet away, the screen casting a faint reflection across his face.

Lucas glanced sideways. "Can I ask you something?"

Trevor didn’t look up, but his attention shifted instantly. "Of course."

Lucas turned the screen slightly. "This section here: estate income flagged for estate-tier auditing. Why is it broken into three columns instead of one?"

Trevor pushed off the edge of the desk and walked over. "That’s from a merger three years ago. Different tax structures were layered instead of collapsed. Here—"

He leaned in beside him, hand braced against the desk on Lucas’s other side, reaching over to adjust the screen. His shoulder brushed Lucas’s lightly, warm and steady.

Lucas didn’t move. Not immediately.

But he noticed.

The closeness. The scent. The quiet ease of someone who wasn’t hovering, wasn’t overpowering, just present for him to lean into.

He turned his head slightly and found Trevor watching the screen, lips parted slightly as he explained something about deductions. Lucas wasn’t hearing it. Not fully.

Because what struck him wasn’t what Trevor said, but that Trevor was letting him see.

Everything.

"You know," Lucas said quietly, "this is the first time someone trusted me with real power and didn’t try to control what I did with it."

Trevor paused, then met his eyes.

"I could use some help; I have enough power for ten generations, and if Serathine wants to retire, you will have to take D’Argente fully too."

Lucas gave a dry little laugh, not unkind, just startled by the shift in tone.

"That’s not pressure at all," he said. "Just the weight of a noble house and the ghost of ten generations."

Trevor’s lips curved into a faint smile. "I didn’t say you’d be alone."

Lucas didn’t look away this time. He tilted his head slightly, green eyes sharp beneath the softness of his features, his voice lower now, steadier. "Is this a proposal or a strategic delegation?"

"It’s both," Trevor said. "And it’s yours to refuse."

Lucas huffed. "And here I thought you weren’t dramatic."

"I’m not," Trevor said evenly, "but you are. So I’m adjusting the presentation."

There was a pause.

Lucas looked down at the tablet again, then back up—fingers still brushing against the corner of the device like he needed the anchor.

"I don’t want to be kept," he said softly.

"You’re not."

"Even if I mess up?"

Trevor leaned just a little closer, enough that the faint scent of bergamot and something clean—something distinctly him—folded into the air between them. "Especially then," he murmured. "I’ll make fun of you for it, obviously. But I’ll be right there, fixing whatever you mess up, probably while rolling my eyes."

Lucas laughed, a soft breath of amusement escaping him, and raised his head—ready to volley something back about Trevor’s ego, maybe about how he was already acting like a smug husband in a mid-century novel.

But then he met his eyes.

And everything in him stilled.

There was no teasing there. No smirk. Just a calm, steady gaze, open in a way that felt like both an answer and a promise. Trevor wasn’t trying to dominate the space between them or orchestrate the moment; he was simply present. And somehow, that hit harder than any dramatic confession ever could.

Lucas felt the shift before he could name it.

Something in his chest pulled tight, not painfully, but like a dam breaking loose after years of being quietly reinforced. A weight he hadn’t realized he carried sloughed off his ribs with the startling ache of sudden possibility.

He wanted to kiss him.