Shadow Unit Scandal: The Commander's Omega-Chapter 107: Guests

Layle’s jaw flexed. "She thinks you’re being... forced to be married and that the pregnancy is a pressure point."

Rafael let out a quiet, unimpressed breath. "Of course."

Layle’s eyes flicked off-screen, checking the front seat again, then back to Rafael. "She conveniently forgets she’s the main manipulator."

Rafael’s smile sharpened. "That would require self-awareness."

Layle’s smile showed. "She ordered me back to the capital."

"Ordered," Rafael repeated, amused.

"Yes," Layle said flatly. "And before you ask, I’m going. I don’t plan to drag you anywhere. I’m going because if I don’t show up, she’ll escalate, and I’d rather be in the room when she tries something than read about it after."

Rafael’s eyes softened by a fraction. "Good. Use your spine."

Layle exhaled. "I intend to. She wants both of us under her control again. And..." his gaze tightened, "you know she hates Tessa."

Rafael went still at the name. "I know."

Layle’s voice lowered. "She’s already implying doors will close if I ’choose wrong.’ She’s also suddenly very interested in how well my kids are sleeping."

Rafael’s face cooled. "If she mentions your children again, you leave."

Layle blinked. "Rafael..."

"You leave," Rafael repeated, with a quiet finality that sounded almost like Gregoris. "I’m not going to debate this with you. Your family should come first anyways."

Layle held his gaze for a beat, then nodded once. "Alright."

Rafael’s mouth curved faintly. "And tell Tessa she’s welcome here anytime."

Layle’s eyes softened. "I will."

Then Layle hesitated, and his expression turned wry in that resigned, older-brother way. "Also... Rafael."

"Yes."

Layle’s gaze flicked to Gregoris again, like he was looking at a wolf and deciding whether to compliment its teeth. "Stick to your dangerous husband."

Rafael blinked, deadpan. "As if anyone needs to tell Gregoris to stay glued by my hip."

Behind Rafael, Gregoris finally reacted, one brow lifting with the faintest insulted dignity, like the concept of being instructed was offensive.

Surprisingly, he didn’t comment anything.

Rafael felt the smugness in his grip anyway, the quiet claim in the way Gregoris’s arm tightened a fraction around his waist as if to say, ’I’m the one giving orders.’

Layle’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. "Humor me."

Rafael’s eyes narrowed, amused. "Fine. I’ll cling responsibly."

Layle let out a breath that might have been a laugh if he’d had less stress in his chest. "Good. I’ll see you soon."

"Travel safe," Rafael said, and then, softer, "Layle. Don’t let her isolate you."

Layle’s gaze warmed. "I won’t."

The holo-window flickered and vanished.

The comm fell silent.

For a heartbeat, the office was just warmth and ether-hum and the steady rhythm of Gregoris under Rafael’s cheek.

Then Gregoris stood, lifted Rafael with him as easily as if Rafael weighed nothing, and carried him two steps forward.

Rafael startled, half laughing. "Gregoris!"

Gregoris didn’t answer. He set Rafael down on the desk firmly enough that it made the surface feel suddenly like a boundary line blurred between ’work’ and ’mine.’

The tablet’s glow reflected faintly off the polished wood. The holo-map continued breathing beside them, indifferent.

Rafael’s hands braced automatically on the edge of the desk. His blue eyes lifted, sharp and bright.

Gregoris leaned in.

The kiss was warm. Gregoris’s mouth traced along Rafael’s, slow enough to make Rafael’s breath catch, deep enough to make his pheromones rise, softening the air until the office felt too small for anything but them.

Rafael’s fingers curled into Gregoris’s shirt, pulling him closer as if the idea of distance was suddenly insulting.

Gregoris’s hand slid to the back of Rafael’s neck, firm and possessive.

For a moment, it was only that: warmth, breath, and the quiet relief of intimacy now medically safe, now permitted without fear.

Rafael’s mouth curved against Gregoris’s. "So much for behaving."

Gregoris’s lips brushed his again. "I was."

Rafael huffed a laugh and kissed him back, tasting the coffee Gregoris had just before he invaded the office.

A sharp ring cut through the haze, one that was only for one thing: Security.

Gregoris froze.

He pulled back just enough to look at the holo-map, where a perimeter alert had flared at the edge of the estate.

Rafael, breath unsteady, blinked. "What is that?"

Gregoris’s jaw tightened.

The screen shifted to a camera view at the front gate: Three men stood outside in dark formal coats: expensive, conservative, like they tried very hard to look harmless. Their posture was stiff. Their hands were politely folded behind their backs, clearly indicating to the camera that they were not concealing weapons.

And their faces were... not there. All three of them had angled themselves with such synchronized commitment to ’not being seen’ that the result was ridiculous. One had turned just enough that the camera caught only the back of his ear.

Another had decided to study a decorative shrub like it contained the Empire’s secrets.

The third had positioned himself half behind a gate pillar, as if the pillar provided diplomatic immunity.

It looked like three grown men trying to win a children’s game against a security system built by paranoids.

Rafael stared.

Then, still flushed and half-breathless, he let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "They’re doing that on purpose."

Gregoris didn’t laugh. He didn’t even blink.

"Yes," he said, flatly.

Rafael squinted at the feed, as if contempt alone could rotate their skulls. "What are they trying to achieve? Plausible deniability?"

"They’re trying," Gregoris replied in that dangerously even voice, "to make it look like they did not approach the manor."

"But they’re literally at the gate."

"They want it framed as coincidence if anyone asks," Gregoris said. "’We were simply passing by.’ ’We didn’t intend to intrude.’ ’We only wished to leave something.’"

Rafael’s mouth curved wickedly. "So later they can say you were rude for refusing."

Gregoris’s eyes stayed on the screen, steady and cold. "So later they can say House Frasner ’rejected’ them."

Rafael leaned forward on the desk, robe slipping a fraction at his shoulder, still warm from the kiss, still smelling like him. "Nobles?"

Gregoris paused.

Not long enough for Rafael to notice as anything other than the tiniest delay. But long enough for Gregoris’s pupils to sharpen as if the camera feed had stopped being funny and started being... something else.

The three men shifted again, still carefully refusing to show their faces, as if the security lenses were an insult they could outmaneuver through angles.

Gregoris sighed like he was a suffering Victorian widow.

Rafael blinked at the sound. "You never do that."

"I do," Gregoris said, too calm.

"Not like that."

Gregoris didn’t look away from the screen. "They are testing my patience in an uncreative way."

Rafael’s lips parted, amusement still there. "So... the first wave?"

Gregoris’s gaze narrowed. "Yes."

Rafael assumed he meant nobles. Petitioners. Alliance vultures. People who saw an imperial announcement and smelled opportunity.

He was wrong.