Chapter 313: Chapter 313: New allies
Downstairs, the parlor looked more like a discreet conference room than a sitting space, with a low table between two armchairs and a tray of untouched coffee cooling on polished wood. Trevor sat angled in his chair, shirt open at the throat, violet eyes calm but focused as always. He’d been expecting to coach another outsider through court etiquette; instead he found Andrew.
Andrew leaned back easily, long legs crossed, one arm slung over the chair as if he owned the room. Dark hair swept neatly back, his suit perfectly pressed, glasses catching the morning light. A thin trail of smoke curled from the cigarette between his fingers, the only untidy thing about him. He looked like what he was, a prosecutor used to staring down witnesses and boardrooms alike, not a boy plucked from obscurity.
Beside him, Milo stood with his usual quiet balance. At sixty, his hair was elegantly grey at the temples, his brown eyes a near-match to Andrew’s but softened by time. Standing side by side, they really did look related, the same bones and the same unflinching gaze, one older, one sharper.
Trevor’s mouth curved faintly as his gaze moved between them. "This is not what I pictured when the Blacks said they were sending me someone to ’polish,’" he said, tone mild but edged with curiosity. "You don’t look like a man who needs polishing."
Andrew exhaled smoke in a slow curl, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. "I don’t. But you wanted someone who can survive your world, not just look good in it. I know how to read a room, Your Grace. Fork placement I can learn."
Milo shifted beside him, hands clasped loosely behind his back. "He’s underselling himself," he said mildly. "He’s been doing cross-examinations since other people were still learning to pour tea. He’ll adapt."
Trevor’s violet gaze lingered on Andrew for a moment longer before sliding to Milo. "Not even a week after you signed the contract and you’re already treating Andrew as your son."
Milo’s mouth quirked, the faintest flicker of a smile. He lowered himself into the opposite chair with the slow ease of someone entirely comfortable, one leg crossing elegantly over the other. "Are you jealous, Fitzgeralt?"
Trevor barked a short laugh, leaning back with his usual lazy composure. "Please. Deal with Sirius first."
Andrew’s brow arched at that, but he stayed silent, the corner of his mouth twitching around the cigarette as if amused by a conversation he’d walked into the middle of. Milo only smiled wider, the glint in his brown eyes betraying how much he enjoyed needling the Grand Duke.
Trevor exhaled, long and slow, and reached for his glass of iced tea. The cubes clinked softly as he swirled them once before lifting the drink. "So," he said, violet gaze sliding back to the pair, "are you planning to pretend he’s been part of the noble world from the beginning?"
Milo took his own glass from the tray, fingers neat on the stem, and sipped before answering. "No. Just from the moment Mara and Sebastian Malek died nine years ago." A faint pause, a tilt of his head that carried both elegance and calculation. "A tidy narrative: new parents who tested their children’s mettle before handing them the keys. People love a story of resilience. It makes them easier to accept."
Andrew finally let out a low chuckle, flicking ash neatly into the tray. "It’s more believable than the truth and cleaner for the invitations."
Trevor’s mouth curved faintly, that almost-smile of his that never quite betrayed how much he approved. "At least you’re not wasting my time with a fairy tale."
Andrew’s eyes met his over the rim of his glasses, calm and unblinking. "The only difficult part will be getting Chris to cooperate. He and Dax are still..." he gave a small, meaningful shrug, "...volatile."
"Dramatic," Trevor corrected with a long, resigned sigh. He set his glass down with quiet precision. "Let them burn through their theatrics. Killian’s already told me Dax isn’t killing anyone, and he’d never hurt his mate."
Milo tilted his head slightly, brown eyes glinting. "All the more reason to use the presentation for what it is: power. The moment you bring Andrew and Mia out at Lucas’s side, every Malek relative still clawing for influence will realize they’ve lost them."
Andrew stubbed out his cigarette with neat finality. "The Royal House of Saha still hasn’t declared anything officially about Chris being a dominant omega or even his name, for that matter. Dax is still keeping him under wraps, and that gives us enough time to prepare for our part of the scene." His gaze flicked between Milo and Trevor, level and intent. "Chris is going to need support, and I’m not going to just sit back and watch."
Milo’s brown eyes warmed with the briefest flicker of approval. "That’s why you’re here. While Dax plays his long game in Saha, we build a stage on our side. By the time the announcement comes, everything will already be in place."
Trevor’s violet gaze shifted to Andrew, his tone even but edged with calculation. "At Lucas’s presentation you’ll be where the cameras can’t avoid you. That way, when Dax finally moves, Christopher won’t become the prey of sahan vipers or the other Maleks."
Andrew inclined his head slightly, the faintest glint of determination behind the calm. "One thing is certain. Both sides will try to use Chris or claim him. But they won’t find it so easy now."
Trevor’s mouth curved just enough to show a trace of teeth, violet eyes narrowing in something between amusement and warning. "I like how you think," he said quietly, "but you’d better brace yourself. The moment you stand beside Lucas, every ambitious omega looking to hitch themselves to the Black family and to a queen’s brother will try to ’accidentally’ cross your path."
Andrew gave a small, wry huff of laughter, flicking a glance at Milo before returning it to Trevor. "Good. I cross-examine worse for a living."
Milo chuckled under his breath, the sound low and approving. "That," he murmured, "is exactly the attitude you’ll need."