The Earl and the Executive

by Kai Butler

  A knock at the door startled him out of his reverie, and he cleared his throat. “Yes?”

  The head footman entered, holding a card on a silver tray. Curious, Tiral took it, and frowned when he read the name.

  “Here?” he asked, confused. “Show him in.”

  The footman nodded and left just as silently as he’d entered. A moment later, he opened the door again and said, “Mister Laft, sir.”

  Still unsure, Tiral stayed near the window, waiting. Zev entered, looking just as poised as always. Tiral felt his eyebrows go up, no, that wasn’t quite right. Zev’s hair had been swept away from his face and despite his impeccable dress, he still looked… harried.

  “You can’t marry the other professor!” Zev said, as soon as the door closed.

  “I’m sorry?” Tiral asked, almost reaching forward to check if Zev had a fever.

  “You have to marry me,” Zev said firmly. “I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. You’re smart and funny and you make me not want to work all the time. When I’m with you, I can imagine a home.”

  “What?” Tiral breathed, this explanation not having cleared up his confusion.

  “When you went away, I realized that we’d have to live apart, and I couldn’t stand it. I want to see you every day. I want you to come home to me every day. I want to wake up to you. I want us to live through every sadness and all the happiness we’ll share together.” Zev stepped closer, his hands hovering as though he wanted to touch Tiral but wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.

  “You want to get married?” Tiral asked, the words foreign in his mouth. He did lean forward then and placed his hand on Zev’s forehead. No fever, and Zev leaned into his touch as thought it was a caress. “But you spent all this time telling me that you had no intention of getting leg-shackled.”

  “I was wrong,” Zev said. “I realized that I want to be your family. I want to share in everything with you.”

  “We can do that as lovers,” Tiral said mildly. “You said so yourself.”

  “I don’t want to be lovers,” Zev said fiercely. At Tiral’s arch look, he corrected. “I don’t want to just be lovers. I want to be your husband. And I hope you want to be mine.”

  Reaching down, Tiral grasped Zev’s hands in his own, squeezing his fingers tightly. His heart hurt, as though it was a limb that had been tightly bound and was now released, blood flowing back into it. “I’ve always said I do.”

  Zev leaned in, his lips hovering over Tiral’s as though asking for permission. Tiral closed the distance between them. Everything about Zev felt right. His lips were warm as they moved against Tiral’s. It felt like the sort of kiss that he could get lost in.

  After a moment, every nerve in his lips still tingling, Tiral pushed back and said, “Wait, wait.”

  “Is everything alright?” Zev asked, his own voice hoarse.

  “Are you just doing this because you were hurt that I left you behind on Lus and wouldn’t take your money?” Tiral asked, his eyes searching Zev’s.

  “No,” Zev said firmly. “That only made me realize that all the things I want from our relationship are things that come with marriage. I want to promise that we’ll grow together and live together. I want to make you happy. I want everyone to know that you’ve my heart in your possession and hopefully I have yours in mine.”

  “You were afraid that some other wealthy executive was going to steal me away?” Tiral asked, his lips twitching in amusement.

  “Let them try,” Zev said darkly. “Will you marry me?”

  “I’m not sure that that’s how it’s usually done,” Tiral said. “I believe that there’s a ring and knees involved.”

  With a grin that Tiral wanted to spend the rest of his life enjoying, Zev took a step back and dropped to one knee. “Will you give me your hand in marriage?”

  “Yes,” Tiral said. “Happily.”

  Rising, Zev cupped Tiral’s face in his hands and kissed him again, his thumbs brushing Tiral’s cheekbones.

  “I love you,” Tiral said, pulling back.

  “Good! That will make things easy since I love you, as well,” Zev said.

  The door burst open and Rexe walked in, staring at a tablet in her hand. “Tiral, you won’t believe this. Laft Aeromech is offering for your engine, sight unseen, and they’re offering the sort of money that could keep this place running for the next hundred years.”

  She looked up and raised both eyebrows. “Ah, well, I guess that explains it. I’ll just wait in my office for my new chapter to be edited.”

  Closing the door behind herself, she disappeared and Tiral turned back to Zev. “You!”

  Zev gave him the sort of boyish grin that Tiral could get used to seeing. “I didn’t want you to feel that you had to marry me if you weren’t interested. I wanted to give you an out.”

  “Too bad. I’m taking the marriage, but the engine is mine,” Tiral said, grinning back. “You don’t even know if it’s any good yet!”

  “If it’s half as good as the rest of your inventions, then you’ll make the Laft Group very rich.”

  “Oh,” Tiral said, a teasing smile on his face. “I see that my entire seduction was merely a long game to try and acquire the newest aeromech tech!”

  “Completely,” Zev agreed. “All of it was to get a business advantage. It’s the new rage. Seducing awkward aeromech professors so that they sell their technology to you.”

  “Well, we must have a demonstration, then,” Tiral said. “I have to rate your technique.”

  “Are you expecting a competition?” Zev asked. “Because I’ll have you know that marriage with me is an exclusive venture.”

  “I can agree to exclusivity,” Tiral said, raising his eyes to Zev’s.

  “Well, then perhaps I’ll agree to a demonstration,” Zev said. He bent and kissed Tiral.

  Epilogue

  “Asta, I do say, this is not nearly as backwater as you led me to believe,” Naim Trion, Earl of Deva, said. He smiled at his friend and Bonre Asta had to shake his head. He looked around himself and had to admit Deva was right.The planet’s location might be considered rustic, but it was now host to some of the Empire’s cutting edge agricultural labs, and soon would have a satellite university campus. Gret House had been visibly improved upon, which meant that the party to celebrate Gret’s marriage to Laft had the air of an exclusive Lusan party, rather than the country fête that he’d been expecting.

  “There have been some renovations made,” he acknowledged. “And I never said it was backwater.”

  With a laugh, Deva leaned back on his heels and shook his head. “You said that Gret was too far out from anything of interest to make it worth the trip. I think your exact words were, ‘a country estate without any vistas to interest even the most banal of landscape painters.’”

  “And all of that is true,” Asta said. “Deva —“

  He was cut off by the sight of their hosts approaching. Gret looked more at ease than he had on Lus, as though love had transformed him from a shy man forcing himself into public into someone who was confident in his place in the Empire. He looked much more the part of an earl than he ever had on Lus, and Asta was glad to see it.

  Asta’s own place in society had been guaranteed by his friendship with Lord Deva. Without that acquaintance, he knew that he would have been twice as awkward as Gret and likely not have had half the man’s courage.

  Laft in comparison looked genuinely happy. Even as they approached, clearly in intimate conversation, his eyes were wrinkled at the corners, amusement obvious. To Asta, it felt as though every smile, every laugh he’d ever seen from the man was revealed as counterfeit. This was joy. This was a man in love.

  Bowing to the pair, Asta said, “Lord Gret, Lord Detzev.”

  “Not Yuls anymore?” Zev Laft asked. He had a gleam in his eye that Asta appreciated. If the new earl had still been Zev Yuls, Asta would have said that the amused glint meant that Detzev was of the same mind as Asta about the absu
rdity of most situations. However, Asta wasn’t sure where they stood now that Detzev’s deception had been revealed.

  Whatever he’d assumed about Zev Yuls — and he’d never been fool enough to assume him merely a flirt — Asta had never even had an inkling of the truth. It left him flat-footed, like most of society, and unlike those who were now desperate to curry favor with the man, he found himself wanting distance.

  Deva was more willing to forgive and offered an enthusiastic handshake to both men. “Glad to be invited. Gret! Fine manor you have here. Shows up Lohon Place, even!”

  The untruth of the statement was not lost on Laft, who quirked an eyebrow at Asta. Gret seemed to take it as a compliment and demurred, “I’m sure you’re too kind.”

  “We were happy to hear that you two tied the knot,” Deva said. He shook a finger at Laft. “Could have given me some warning, though! I lost a fair bit of change on that bet!”

  “Did you?” Laft asked. His tone was wry. “I’m sorry to have proposed before tipping you off. Hopefully the bath you took wasn’t too bad.”

  “It was. But do you know, I’m very happy for the both of you. Couldn’t happen to nicer men. And Asta agrees, don’t you, Asta?”

  The thing of it was, Asta was happy for the both of them. It was hard not to be. They were so clearly in love and seemed to complete each other in a way that he found himself jealous of.

  “Quite happy,” he said.

  “Glad to hear it,” Laft said, a mocking smile hidden in the corner of his mouth. Asta decided that even without the façade of Yuls, he did like Laft. The man knew irony in a way Asta appreciated.

  “So, did you honeymoon?” Deva asked. “According to Asta, you got to work right away, but I know that my mother would’ve thrown a fit over propriety.”

  “On Viga,” Gret confirmed. He glanced at Laft. “It was quite educational.”

  “One of those tours, then?” Deva asked. “I, myself, don’t care for them, but Asta says that if we’re visiting a place, we should enlighten ourselves.”

  “Oh, no, we didn’t leave the bedroom,” Laft corrected. Deva went pink at the implication and Asta stepped in.

  “We won’t take any more of your time,” he said. “You should join us next season. Deva usually puts together a few parties.”

  They said their goodbyes and watched as the hosts were immediately set upon by a gaggle of what appeared to be engineers dressed in suits that hadn’t been worn since their dissertation defenses.

  “Well that was nice,” Deva said. “Glad that he’s still the same fellow. Was afraid that he’d be stuffy now that he purchased an earldom.”

  “I don’t think Laft purchased anything,” Asta corrected. “I think that whatever he got was a gift.”

  “Poetic,” Deva said, nudging his friend. “You know, I think that’s Reg. It is! Reg! Good to see you, old man!”

  At Deva’s enthusiastic greeting, Reg made his way over. “Deva. Asta.”

  “Reg! Haven’t seen you since the races. How’s the wife?” Deva asked.

  “Well,” Reg said, smiling as one who is happy to talk about their spouse’s success. “She is putting together a guidebook for young ladies who are coming out. Been all a tizzy about it since the Duchess of Socis was kind enough to write a recommendation.”

  They made some small talk and Reg kept glancing at Deva speculatively. Finally, he said, “You know Beria will have my head if I don’t ask. She said you’ve been called to Lohon.”

  “I have,” Deva said morosely. “I think it’s about my allowance.”

  “She heard otherwise,” Reg said. “Would kill me if I didn’t ask. You don’t think it’s about marriage?”

  A pit formed in Asta’s stomach. Deva hadn’t told him about the visit. Even now, Deva refused to meet his eyes, instead waving his hand dismissively.

  “Marriage!” Deva laughed. “No, can’t see my father demanding that.”

  “He might,” Asta said. His voice didn’t sound like his own and he was glad that whatever expression he wore, it didn’t reflect the turmoil that he felt. The idea of Deva marrying felt like the sun simply disappearing from the sky. Yet, hearing Reg’s suggestion, it seemed inevitable.

  “Bet you he won’t,” Deva said. “I’ll bet it’s about my allowance.”

  Nodding his head, Asta wet his lips before he spoke. “Usual terms.”

  Deva offered over his hand and Asta clasped it. “Usual terms,” Deva agreed. He met Asta’s eyes, then, and the expression was closed off. He was nervous about something and the fact that he hadn’t told Asta about it made the specter of it that much more frightening.

  Sighing at the two of them, Reg said, “Never can resist a gamble, eh, Deva? So glad to see that Laft finally settled down.”

  They murmured their agreement and talk soon turned to happier subjects.

  Zev woke with a crick in his neck. Groaning, he opened his eyes and blinked at how light it was. He hadn’t remembered falling asleep on the couch, but someone had pulled a blanket over him and placed his tablet on a side table.

  There was someone at his desk, speaking softly. “Yes, work should be completed well in time for next quarter… No, no, I’ve already sent you the list of students that we’ll be accepting. I understand that he’s a board member’s son, but his grades are terrible and since the extension is fully funded by the Laft Group… Yes, yes, talk to you soon.”

  “What time is it?” Zev asked, muzzily. “I clearly remember saying that you could have fifteen more minutes and then we were both going to the perfectly nice bed that I had shipped here from Viga. So that we could sleep in it.”

  Tiral winced. “Well, I just had so much work to do, between the administration of the University extension program and working through the new notes on the engine. By the time I realized, you were already asleep and I thought it would be such a pity to disturb you.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Zev said, “I’ll show you disturb.”

  His threat was met with a grin and Tiral crossed the room to place a gentle kiss on his lips. “Will you now?”

  “Nosre said that I’d be doing less sleeping on a couch if I got married,” Zev complained.

  “And we will! As soon as the extension is finished and the engine in production,” Tiral assured him.

  “Or maybe I’ll just have to increase my persuasiveness,” Zev said. “I hear that I can be very convincing.”

  “Now see here, Lord Gret,” Tiral said. “I’ll have none of that in our office.”

  “I disagree, Lord Gret,” Zev said, stealing a kiss from Tiral’s willing mouth. “I think that what we’ll do is go have some breakfast, and then enjoy the bed that the servants have probably just made for us in our room.”

  “Well,” Tiral said, relaxing into Zev’s arms. “On that, I can be persuaded.”

  Read Asta and Deva’s love story in The Barony Bet, available now for preorder.

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