CHAPTER 397: CHAPTER 397: BLACKMAILED TO DINNER

Trevor’s eyes flicked to the message, sighed, and then back to Lucas. "She’s being dramatic again."

"Dramatic?" Lucas repeated, voice soft but threaded with warning. "She doesn’t write encrypted messages at dinner time for theatrics. What did you find?"

Trevor exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Let’s say it’s complicated and we are still investigating it."

Lucas arched a brow. "And when that stopped you from talking."

Trevor huffed, amused and exasperated. "If you put it like that... Humor me, eat all of the courses and dessert, and we’ll talk about it."

Lucas blinked, the corner of his mouth twitching. "You’re bribing me with food now?"

Trevor shrugged, unbothered. "I’m adapting my strategies to my audience."

"I’m not your employee, Trevor."

"You’re worse," he said, stepping closer until his shadow brushed across the desk. "You’re my husband. Which means I have fewer disciplinary options and significantly more paperwork if you starve yourself out of spite."

Lucas stared at him for a beat, torn between annoyance and reluctant amusement. "You think I’m going to forget that message because you’re offering dinner?"

"I think," Trevor said, voice dropping to something smooth and deliberate, "you’re going to eat because it’s easier to interrogate me when you’re not lightheaded. You’re terrible at subtlety when you’re hungry."

Lucas rolled his eyes, but the tension in his shoulders eased, if only slightly. "You make it sound like I’m the unreasonable one here."

Trevor’s smile was small, tired, but real. "You usually are."

"Charming," Lucas muttered, grabbing his tablet and shutting it off. "Fine. But if your definition of dinner involves another ’working meal’

and five security reports, I’m leaving."

"Dinner," Trevor promised, holding the door open for him. "No reports or staff. Just us and maybe Windstone."

"That sounds suspiciously romantic for someone who just tried to emotionally blackmail me."

"I prefer the term strategic persuasion," Trevor said lightly. "I would have been blackmailing you if I reminded you about our child." He moved his eyes to Lucas’s still flat belly.

Lucas froze mid-step, his hand tightening around the tablet.

"Trevor Fitzgeralt," he said slowly, his tone so deceptively calm that it made the hair on Trevor’s neck rise, "did you just threaten me with the unborn?"

Trevor didn’t even try to hide the smirk tugging at his mouth. "I’m not using it as a threat but more like a motivational reminder."

"Motivational," Lucas repeated, arching an eyebrow. "You mean emotional manipulation with extra sparkle."

Trevor spread his hands, feigning innocence. "If it works, it’s strategy. Besides..." his gaze flicked down again, softer this time, "you’ve been skipping meals. I’m not about to let you pass out in my office like last week."

Lucas let out a breath that was half exasperation, half laughter. "You make it sound like I’m fragile."

"I make it sound like I care," Trevor said quietly.

That one landed enough to still Lucas’s retort. The silence between them softened just slightly, the usual verbal fencing replaced by something gentler, older. Trevor stepped forward, brushing a stray lock of hair from Lucas’s forehead before he could swat his hand away.

"Dinner," he said again, more a murmur than a command this time. "Then you can interrogate me until sunrise if you want."

Lucas gave him a look that was equal parts suspicion and surrender. "You’re impossible."

Trevor’s mouth curved. "You’ve said that every day since our wedding."

"And you’ve taken it as a compliment every time."

"Because it is."

Lucas shook his head, the faintest smile finally breaking through. "You win... for now."

Trevor leaned closer, lowering his voice to something wickedly smooth. "You say that like it’s temporary."

Lucas brushed past him toward the hall, tablet tucked under one arm. "It is. I fully intend to win dessert."

Trevor chuckled, following after him, his tone dry but amused. "You’ll have to earn it."

"I already did," Lucas said without looking back. "I married you."

That earned a low, genuine laugh from Trevor, the kind that stripped away the exhaustion for a heartbeat.

As they walked toward the dining room, the automated lighting dimmed to a softer glow, the polished floor catching faint reflections of rain against the glass panels. Windstone’s discreet voice echoed through the hall: "Dinner is served, my lord."

Lucas glanced at Trevor sidelong. "You told him we’d both be here?"

"Of course. I plan ahead." The alpha was clearly smug that he would see his adorable husband eating without a fuss that day.

"Manipulate ahead, you mean." Lucas didn’t bother to soften the blow; his husband could handle them and his hormones made him less patient with his words.

Trevor smiled, unrepentant. "Same skill set."

Lucas sighed, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him again. "You’re lucky I’m too tired to argue."

Trevor brushed his hand lightly against the small of Lucas’s back as they entered the room, its warmth spreading through the crisp material of his shirt. "Good. Save your energy. You’ll need it for dessert and for what I have to tell you after."

Lucas stopped, giving him a sideways glance that could’ve cut through armor. "That better not be code for another classified nightmare."

Trevor’s purple eyes glinted, half-teasing, half-serious. "Depends how you define ’nightmare.’"

Lucas exhaled slowly, resigned. "I’m starting to think marrying you was."

"Too late to annul it," Trevor murmured, pulling out his chair for him.

Lucas sat with refined elegance and just enough bite in his smile to remind him that dinner or not, Trevor wouldn’t be off the hook for long.

Trevor moved around the table with his quiet predatory elegance, the sound of his footsteps softened by the thick Persian rug. He uncorked the wine himself, an indulgence Windstone usually handled, but tonight, he seemed to want the distraction of ritual. The deep red shimmered in the glass as he poured, the scent rich and earthy between them.

Lucas looked at it and sighed; he underestimated how much he would miss his wine while pregnant.

Trevor caught the look immediately, the faint downturn of Lucas’s mouth, and the quick flicker of longing in his eyes before he masked it again.

"You’re allowed to look," Trevor said, tone mild as he poured himself a glass. "Just not drink."

Lucas shot him a flat stare. "You’re enjoying this far too much."

"I’m enjoying your self-control," Trevor replied smoothly, settling into the chair opposite him. "It’s so rare these days, I feel obliged to appreciate it."

Lucas huffed, reaching for the sparkling water Windstone had left in place of wine. "You sound like a man trying to start an argument and pretending it’s flirtation."

Trevor smirked, swirling the wine in his glass. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

"Liar," Lucas said under his breath, taking a sip. The carbonation hissed softly between them, an unimpressive echo of what the wine might have been. "You know, I was promised luxury and stability when I married you. Instead, I get stress, conspiracy, and banned alcohol."

"You forgot blackmail and very selective affection," Trevor said, voice low and amused.

Lucas gave him a look that was too sharp to be fond and too fond to be sharp. "Selective, hm? You’re testing my restraint."

"That’s half the fun," Trevor murmured, taking a slow sip of wine that was so deliberate Lucas was certain it was an act of provocation.

Lucas leaned back in his chair, one eyebrow lifting. "You’re playing with fire."

Trevor’s smile deepened, that familiar edge of challenge threading through his calm. "You married fire."

Lucas tried not to react, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him. "I see you’re in one of your moods."

"Careful," Trevor said softly. "You sound like you mind it."

"I don’t," Lucas admitted, his tone shifting, quiet but edged with warmth. "But I do mind being avoided. You’re still stalling."

Trevor sighed, setting the glass down. "I am. Just... give a minute to gather my courage."