[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega Chapter 257: Broken tablet and nuggets (2)

Windstone was exactly where Lucas had expected him: in the smaller dining room, bent over a sideboard with the sa quiet precision he used for everything from silverware arrangents to crisis managent.

He looked up the mont Lucas stepped in, pale green eyes flicking from the Grand Duchess to the young woman trailing behind him, then inevitably to the tablet in her hands. His gaze lingered on the spiderweb crack across the screen for a fraction of a second before returning to Lucas with the kind of composure that only years of service could perfect, except for the slight arch of one eyebrow, that subtle punctuation mark he used instead of saying what did you do now?

"Your Grace," he said evenly, though the faint pause before the title suggested he was recalculating whatever schedule he had just been working on. "I trust nothing urgent has occurred?"

"Yes," Lucas said gravely, setting his hands on the back of one of the chairs like he needed support. "Tragedy has struck. This tablet has fallen in battle, and only nuggets and fries can save the day."

For just a mont, barely a breath, the corner of Windstone’s mouth twitched, and the eyebrow in question lifted higher still, the restrained expression of a man who refused to laugh but couldn’t quite keep the line from softening. "I see," he said at last, his voice as dry as the sumr air drifting through the open window.

"I also require," Lucas added, straightening now, "Mia Malek as my official company for the day. She’s already been drafted and can’t refuse. It’s a binding arrangent."

Windstone’s gaze shifted to Mia, weighing her with the sa subtle assessnt he used on visiting dignitaries and unfamiliar service staff. "You’ve been transferred from the coastal manor?"

"Yes, sir," Mia said, standing a fraction straighter under the weight of his attention.

"Then you may remain with His Grace," he said finally, his voice brooking no argunt. "You are not to leave his side."

Lucas’s smile was all victory. "Perfect. That’s settled. Now... nuggets?"

Windstone inclined his head once, already turning to give the order. "I’ll see to it personally."

Which, Lucas knew, was not because he cared about nuggets, but because Windstone would do anything to keep him from fraying again after what had happened earlier. If indulging him with fast food and company helped, then so be it.

Lucas caught Mia’s eye as they stepped back into the hallway, his grin slipping into sothing more conspiratorial. "See? Eyebrows. Textbook example. And now, nuggets."

They hadn’t made it three steps toward the far hall before Windstone’s voice followed them, asured but edged with that quiet authority that even Trevor occasionally obeyed.

"Your Grace," he said without turning fully, "please wait outside the kitchen. I’ll have the tray brought to you."

Lucas pivoted back, hands slipping into his shorts pockets in mock offense. "You make it sound like I’d cause trouble in there."

Windstone’s eyebrows lifted, not as high as before, but in a way that spoke volus. "Nothing good has ever co from you in the kitchen, Your Grace. I have no intention of adding to the record."

Mia made the mistake of hiding a smile behind the cracked tablet. Lucas caught it instantly, narrowing his eyes at her in exaggerated suspicion. "You’re taking his side already?"

"I’m just... observing," she said carefully, though her tone betrayed the amusent she was trying to smother.

"Mm-hmm." Lucas drew the sound out, but he didn’t argue further. He knew from experience that Windstone’s idea of keeping him out of a room was less a request and more a strategic operation, and one he always sohow won.

"Fine," Lucas said at last, tilting his head with a faux air of magnanimity. "But I expect extra sauce to compensate for this slander."

"I’ll see it’s done," Windstone replied, already moving toward the kitchen doors like a man ensuring a vault was locked behind him.

"You know, he will make sure that those nuggets are the healthiest ever made," Lucas said, leaning one shoulder against the wall like a man resigned to his fate. "Grilled, baked, probably blessed by a nutritionist on the way out."

Mia tilted her head, the faintest smile tugging at her mouth. "Is that... bad?"

"Yes," Lucas replied without hesitation. "If I’m going to commit to emotional damage via fast food, I expect the full experience: oil, salt, and the glorious sha of it all."

That earned her first laugh, quick and unguarded, before she pressed her lips together, as though rembering she was still technically on duty.

He eyed her, smug. "You know, you’re doing better already. By the end of the day, I’ll have you saying outrageous things to Windstone too."

"Is that part of the binding arrangent?"

"Absolutely. In fact," he said, lowering his voice to sothing conspiratorial, "today you are my co-conspirator. And our mission is simple, eat the nuggets before Windstone decides they need garnish."

Mia shook her head but didn’t pull away when Lucas gestured for her to follow him toward the small seating area just outside the kitchen doors.

They sank into the overstuffed chairs like they’d been claid for a stakeout, Lucas crossing one leg over the other with the air of soone who had every intention of staying there until victory, or dinner, was secured.

"You’re really this serious about fast food?" she asked at last.

He t her gaze evenly, the barest glint of mischief in his eyes. "Mia, if you’re going to be my friend, there are certain things you should know. This is one of them."

It didn’t take long, Windstone was efficient when he wanted Lucas contained.

The kitchen doors swung open with military precision, and there he was, carrying a silver tray with the kind of gravitas usually reserved for priceless heirlooms.

Lucas’s eyes narrowed imdiately. "Why is it covered?"

Windstone set the tray down on the low table between them and, without missing a beat, removed the do. Steam curled upward, rich and savory, but Lucas’s gaze darted instantly to the details, the nuggets arranged in an artfully precise spiral, a rakin of sauce placed exactly in the center, and a sprig of sothing green perched like it had any right to be there.

Lucas groaned. "You garnished them."

Mia bit her lip to keep from laughing, her shoulders shaking just enough for him to notice.

"I presented them," Windstone corrected, his tone perfectly neutral. "There’s a difference."

"There’s a cri," Lucas muttered, reaching for one before Windstone could start listing the kitchen’s food safety protocols. He popped it into his mouth, chewed once, and then froze.