2. The fate flows

2. The fate flows

Viscount Derbyshire was a stout alpha nobleman in his early sixties, a figure of influence among the aristocracy whose reputation rivaled the Teiwinds'. He had a generous disposition with a fondness for meddling, and his instinct for investment was sharp enough that he had more than doubled the fortune he'd inherited from the previous generation.

As Kloff's first employer, the viscount had taken a strong liking to the young investor he firmly believed he had personally discovered. Learning that Kloff was unattached and of marriageable age, his meddlesome nature kicked in, and he made it his mission to pair him with a suitable omega. On several occasions he had summoned Kloff to his home under the pretense of discussing a business proposal, only to seat him across from some unfamiliar omega for tea.

"My lord. I'm begging you. No more surprise matchmaking. The refusals alone are damaging my reputation. Besides, I'm not ready to settle down yet. I'm in the prime of my working years."

"You need to find the right person before you settle down. Once you do, everything falls into place. Why do you think we work? To build a home, that's why. Trust me. You'll be bowing in gratitude before long."

No amount of pleading could move the viscount. Watching him roar with laughter, Kloff sighed under his breath.

Then the viscount was invited to a distant relative's wedding. A nobleman's wedding was, for all practical purposes, a massive matchmaking operation. The instant Kloff heard the news, he scrambled to book an appointment with another client — but somehow the viscount found out, abducted the supposedly busy Kloff into his carriage, and hauled him off to the wedding of a nobleman whose face, and indeed whose name, Kloff did not know.

"You may not have connections, but you're a fine young man from a proper baronial family — your spouse should be noble too. You have the talent and the looks; there's nothing lacking. Marry into a family with no alpha heir and you'll be perfect as a live-in son-in-law. I guarantee it — you'll inherit a title."

Kloff said he had no interest in titles, to which the viscount replied, "No interest in titles — nonsense. Playing too hard to get isn't a good look either, young Kloff of the Bendykes," and charged through the wedding guests with the air of a man about to sell him off on the spot. The country roughness had worn off Kloff by now, and when Derbyshire introduced the handsome young bachelor alpha, interested omegas came out of the woodwork.

"How do you do, Mr. Bendyke."

"Kloff, please."

He had been tired of it since the very first introduction, but he smiled courteously and made his greetings. Getting on terms with the omegas' influential parents was more important than the omegas themselves, so he kept his mouth shut and did his best. The viscount, interpreting his compliance as something other than total disinterest, dragged him here and there and introduced omegas beyond counting. Amid the parade, however, a few people showed genuine interest in Kloff's abilities as an investor, and he formed some worthwhile professional connections. The day's sacrifice had been well worth it.

Before the day was out, Kloff was introduced to someone who was — to the best of anyone's reckoning — a relative of a relative of a friend of Viscount Derbyshire's, along with the man's omega son.

The omega's name was Rapiel of the Westport family, and he bore a striking resemblance to someone Kloff knew. The same golden hair and blue eyes as that foul-tempered, insufferably arrogant count, and features uncannily similar — but Rapiel's temperament could not have been more different. He was polite, careful with his words. No trace of haughtiness — his gaze was warm and guileless.

Kloff liked him at once. The feeling did not seem to be one-sided. If he was going to be drawn to someone who looked like the count, a gentle, sweet-natured omega was infinitely preferable to a vile-tempered alpha. And Rapiel's scent was soft; his body, compact in the way of male omegas, was dressed with a neatness that was plain but charming, and altogether endearing. Yes — if I'm going to court a blue-eyed blonde, an omega like this is far better for my emotional stability. And for a healthy future.

Unlike the other omegas, toward whom he had been cold, Kloff showed Rapiel a flicker of interest — and Derbyshire, with the nose of a bloodhound, promptly herded everyone else away. Left alone without warning, Kloff was mortified.

Pushing is one thing, but this is too much, old man!

"The viscount does get ahead of himself. His temperament is rather impatient. I'm sorry."

Rapiel simply smiled. It was nothing like that maddening count's smile — no artifice, no mask.

"I've heard the viscount is very fond of you, Mr. Bendyke."

"Kloff, please."

"Then call me Rapiel."

Since they were alone anyway, they strolled through the gardens decorated for the wedding and talked — starting with the weather, drifting to this and that. It did not take long to see that Rapiel was a good person. Cultured, and — more importantly — without the arrogance that came standard with the aristocracy. Watching him laugh with unfeigned warmth, Kloff felt something in himself thaw.

"Kloff, somehow you don't feel like a stranger. There's something strangely familiar about you."

"I was thinking the same. As though we've known each other a long time."

"Do you think so? Perhaps we met in a past life?"

The pretty smile, eyes creasing gently — Kloff returned it with one of his own. But inwardly, he flinched. He knew perfectly well that the familiarity he felt had less to do with romantic past lives than with a certain insufferably proud count he had met in a rose garden.

It was not a passionate love. But there was an undeniable pull between them. Kloff pursued the relationship with Rapiel in earnest. It was perhaps a little early, but when an alpha and an omega of marriageable age courted for any length of time, it could only mean one thing.

Those around them were pleased, and declared they made an excellent match. Viscount Derbyshire, in particular, carried on as though the wedding were imminent. The attention was almost too much; Kloff refrained from broadcasting the relationship himself. The Westport family, who did not yet know Kloff well, seemed to prefer keeping things quiet until the engagement was made official.

But the two grew steadily closer — close enough for held hands, light embraces, the occasional kiss. At university, every student had treated those brief years out from under parental supervision as license to run wild, and Kloff, swept along by an atmosphere where eye contact led straight to bed, had slept with plenty of omegas. With Rapiel, he had no such urge. Not because the desire wasn't there, but precisely because the relationship was serious — he held back.

Rapiel was equally earnest. Knowing that Kloff could not yet afford a large staff, he had taken to practicing housework on his own. Kloff thought there was no need for him to do so, but Rapiel — raised as an omega in a noble household — seemed to regard managing the home as a natural duty. He even insisted, somewhat stubbornly, that his skills were not half bad. Now and then he would appear with bandaged fingers, and Kloff would laugh.

"Don't laugh. You have no idea how hard that enormous fish was to handle."

"You don't have to practice cooking fish."

"The Bendyke family makes salmon for special holidays, so I need to learn."

Rapiel averted his eyes and hid his bandaged fingers behind his other hand. The tips of his round ears were faintly pink — unbearably endearing. At the same time, the thought that this man, whose lifetime of hardship had probably amounted to washing a handkerchief, had cut his fingers like that filled Kloff with a fierce tenderness. He resolved to earn enough, quickly, to build a proper home. Once he could buy a bigger house and hire a cook, he would propose.

While he threw himself into work, Rapiel never left the domestic future Kloff was building in his mind. Marriage to him would mean a peaceful, harmonious life — perhaps even a little dull in its tranquility, but that kind of steady household was exactly what Kloff wanted most. He could not stomach the thought of cold looks and recriminations between family members.

He had never seen or experienced such a thing himself, yet ever since he'd begun dreaming of a family, he had been gripped by a strange dread — a fear that something might go wrong, that he himself might do something terrible, or that misfortune might come crashing down one blow after another. He woke in the middle of the night from nightmares he could never remember.

The pressure of not yet being fully established was probably to blame. The uncharacteristic worrying surely came from having grown up in a quiet, uneventful household in the country.

He threw himself into his work to build that foundation. He cut back on sleep and devoted himself to managing and growing his noble clients' assets. The more he worked, the faster his reputation spread, and the more nobles sought him out. His own fortune grew in proportion, and at this rate — barring any major setbacks — he could propose to Rapiel as early as next spring.

The heavier workload had cut into his time with Rapiel, but Rapiel, mercifully, did not take it as a slight — he understood. He knew, without being told, exactly what was driving Kloff to work so hard. When they couldn't meet, Rapiel sometimes sent homemade sweets.

"These are remarkably good."

"Really? I'll bring more next time."

"Thank you. I ought to get you something in return."

"It's fine. I just baked too many while practicing and wanted to share."

The practicing was, of course, for Kloff and the future Bendykes — he could hardly pretend not to notice. But a token gift at this stage would be meaningless. He had saved enough; it was nearly time for the engagement. He didn't want to tip his hand and spoil it.

Kloff slipped into the jeweler's to buy the engagement ring he had already chosen. He had in fact placed a custom order long ago, deliberating over shape and stone size until he settled on something understated yet elegant and refined. He had received word that it was ready and had come to collect it. The members-only jeweler, patronized by the nobility, would have been impossible to enter without Viscount Derbyshire's letter of introduction, and the letter had also secured him a considerably lower price.

"Platinum with sapphire. Here it is, sir."

A deferential attendant brought the ring to Kloff where he sat on the waiting sofa. It was even finer than he'd imagined. He went to the manager's desk to sign the check for the remaining balance. While the manager flipped through the ledger looking for his name, a conversation drifted over from a pair of omega noblewomen — wives of great houses — browsing the colored gems in a display case.

"Have you heard? The Teiwind countship made a bad investment and took a significant loss. That's why they didn't attend the jewel auction this time."

"They're so wealthy, though — it can't have hurt much."

"I heard they invested in the eastern gemstone mine. If that one pays off, they'll earn back the loss several times over."

"Oh, really? Should we invest too?"

Kloff grimaced when he heard this. As far as he knew, there was only one gemstone mine in the east, and its deposits were largely exhausted — it was no longer worth investing in. A gem or two surfaced now and then, but most were low-grade and worthless. Pouring large sums in at this point was far too late. People occasionally invested on the strength of the mine's old reputation, not realizing it was a hollow shell, but this was the first he had heard of anyone in the well-informed aristocratic class falling for it. The Teiwinds needed to cut their losses and get out.

The women's conversation moved quickly to other topics. He considered joining in to hear more, but just then the manager found the ledger entry and presented the receipt. Kloff wrote the exact amount on his checkbook and signed. By the time the ring arrived in a small silk box, the women had been escorted to a private viewing room. He pocketed the box and left the jeweler's.

The Teiwinds are a great house — they'll manage their own investments. They're not some upstart family that's been rich for a decade or two. They'll have steady long-term holdings. Competent managers on staff. More to the point, this is none of my business.

He dismissed the thought at once. Fingering the ring box in his pocket, Kloff hailed a passing carriage and headed for his office.

He worked at the office until late. Several new clients had come in recently, and there were urgent documents to process. A backlog of investment proposals had piled up for review. He meant to finish just a few more and head home, but late that night, a visitor arrived.

"Who is it at this hour."

Kloff had just finished one document and was setting another stack on the desk. He swept back the hair falling into his face, his voice edged with irritation. He wanted to pretend he wasn't in, but the light reflecting off the window behind him would have already given him away. The knocking grew louder. He loosened the stifling tie, undid a few shirt buttons, and stood. He didn't bother unrolling his sleeves.

It was hardly the way to receive a client, but then a visitor at this hour had no claim to courtesy either. That he hadn't simply bellowed at them to leave was generosity enough. With the secretary gone for the night, the door to the office marked Bendyke had to be opened by Kloff himself. He hadn't even taken that long, but the knocking had escalated to a force that threatened to break the door down, and by the time Kloff wrenched it open — before it had even swung fully wide — he was shouting.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Ah — so you were in."

Standing in the dark corridor, wearing a well-cut suit of deep color, was — remarkably — the young blond count.

Taken entirely off guard, Kloff leaned against the doorframe and stared. Aeroc, with a slightly stiff, awkward smile, asked:

"Can you spare a moment?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

He wasn't being sarcastic — the situation genuinely called for that answer. He could make time if he chose to, but if it turned out to be nothing important, and the visitor happened to be someone other than Aeroc, he'd just as soon ignore the whole thing. Both of them knew, however, that it wouldn't be taken at face value. Aeroc looked displeased — a brief crease of the brow — before the familiar thin smile slid into place.

"I went to considerable trouble to come here at this late hour. I'd appreciate it if you could make the time."

"Has it occurred to you that showing up unannounced in the middle of the night is the sort of rudeness that makes time rather hard to give?"

Even as he said it, Kloff opened the door and let him in. They were not on good terms, exactly, and could hardly claim any real familiarity — for Aeroc to come at this hour, there had to be a reason of some weight.

The momentary hesitation at the rebuff passed quickly. Looking as though something genuinely important had arisen, Aeroc gave Kloff a nod and stepped inside. Without being told, he passed through the secretary's room, through the inner door already standing open, and into the working office Kloff actually used.

Kloff shut the heavy door and threw the bolt. Then, hands jammed into his trouser pockets in a posture that could only be called slovenly, he jerked his chin toward a chair. Aeroc glanced at the stiff wooden chair behind him, appeared to decide the gesture was not worth dignifying, and chose instead to wander around the office, taking in the room.

The outer secretary's room was small but neatly kept. The inner office — dominated by a large desk, a chair or two, and a wide window behind the desk, every remaining wall packed floor to ceiling with bookshelves and filing cabinets — was a good size, but could not honestly be called tidy, even as a kindness. Kloff insisted there was an organizing principle at work. Few people believed him.

Not that it mattered — almost no one ever came here. His clients were nearly all nobility, and they preferred to summon Kloff to their own parlors and studies. Which meant that having an aristocrat standing in this cluttered space, reeking of dry paper and ink, while the cool scent of expensive cologne hung around him, created an incongruity that began with the very air.

"So this is why you always smell faintly of bitterness."

He wanted to tell the count that if he didn't like it, the door was right there — but at this hour, he truly did not have a single grain of energy to spend on petty sparring. Kloff went to his desk and opened the file he'd been about to review.

The count was taking his time, still browsing. Through long experience socializing with noble clients, Kloff had come to understand the ways of the lofty city aristocracy well enough: Aeroc was, at this moment, familiarizing himself with the other man's space while simultaneously avoiding the crass, low-born practice of launching straight into business. He was stalling on purpose.

Normally, when meeting with other clients, Kloff would spend this time alongside them, trading pleasantries on light topics — the conversational equivalent of a first course. But he owed no such courtesy to someone who had turned up uninvited and unannounced at this hour of the night. Let the man stall; Kloff would do his own work.

He's taking rather a long time for someone supposedly killing time.

Kloff pushed the document he'd just finished aside, pulled another file toward him, and looked up. Aeroc was wandering the office with sparkling eyes, examining everything around him with the wonder of a child who'd stumbled onto a treasure ship.

Just as in the library, the count did seem genuinely interested in books — he traced the worn spines of Kloff's law texts, volumes he'd used since university, running a finger along each one, peering at them closely. At this rate, the man would be inspecting the dust in the corners next. If Kloff let this go on, they'd be here until dawn.

"What did you come for?"

The blunt question finally drew Aeroc's attention, as though he had only just remembered that Kloff was present. Mildly startled, he turned, and approached with that thin smile. A client's chair sat right in front of him, but he refused to sit — stood there instead, looking down at Kloff in his chair. Still insufferable.

Aeroc came out with the purpose of his visit readily enough.

"I made an investment recently and took a loss. It wasn't much, but people around me kept insisting I come see you. So here I am — reluctantly."

"Losing enough to buy ten houses on the eastern gemstone mine and calling it not much — the Teiwinds truly are magnificent."

"……You knew?"

The count's smile grew slightly stiff. Kloff leaned back, settled against the chair, and went on.

"Word travels fast in this business."

"Then we can get straight to it. I need an investment agent——"

"I'm not taking new clients. I'm at capacity with my current roster, and I especially don't take on troublesome clients who fall for what amounts to a con. Hard pass."

Kloff propped an elbow on the armrest, rested his chin on his hand, and looked up at Aeroc with a crooked grin. The count pressed his lips together — pride stung — then reached into his well-tailored jacket and produced a crisp letter.

"What's this?"

"A recommendation."

He took it and opened it. It was not long.

Kloff,

Sign the contract without a fuss. It's for your own good.

Derbyshire

Damn that old man. Kloff clenched his teeth. His fingers tightened involuntarily, and the fine handmade paper crumpled before he noticed. Aeroc, observing this, frowned faintly in displeasure before resuming his smile.

"I have no more desire to enter into a contract with a barbarian like you. But refusing Viscount Derbyshire's recommendation would be discourteous."

Watching those dizzily captivating lips curve into a soft arc, Kloff swore inwardly. He truly could not afford this — but the request came from a man to whom he owed a debt. If Derbyshire hadn't written that letter of introduction to the jeweler, Kloff would have refused outright.

"If not for Viscount Derbyshire's recommendation, I would never have had cause to entangle myself with you. I'm already worked half to death, and now I'm dealing with a boor who shows up in the middle of the night without so much as an appointment, who can't spot a swindle with a magnifying glass, and who has the gall to call the man who's about to save him a barbarian — managing, truly, to do every single wrong thing in sequence. Under normal circumstances, signing this contract would be an act of suicide — but since the viscount has asked, I'll oblige. You would do well to express your profound gratitude to him."

He made every show of reluctance he could muster, and Aeroc's lip twitched with wounded pride.

"Very well."

Kloff had expected some retort — something he could seize on as grounds to tell Derbyshire the deal had fallen through. The meek assent caught him off guard. Outwardly the count betrayed nothing, but if that haughty man had come to Kloff's office in secret at this hour, there must be problems beyond the gemstone mine. Quite possibly, he was in deeper trouble than he let on.

As Kloff turned this over, studying Aeroc up and down, the count bristled — a glare, quickly smoothed back into that smile. That damned smile.

"It's too late tonight, so let's continue another time. I'll need to review your finances first."

"When should I come back?"

"I'll come to you. The day after tomorrow, I think."

"I'll be waiting. Then I'll take my leave. My apologies for the late hour."

Apparently satisfied with the outcome, Aeroc offered a light farewell and left the office.

Kloff stood at the window, watching the carriage recede into the dark, and caught the lingering trace of cool cologne the man had left behind. He sighed. He looked down. At some point, things below had grown unmistakably firm. Sitting too long — that's all it is. He sat back down, picked up his pen, reached for the next file — then lurched to his feet and threw the window open to air the room.

Sitting too long. Right. Damn it.

He knew. The desire had not gone away. Why, of all things, did it have to be an alpha? If only the man were an omega, he could drug him and make him his own. Actually doing it would ruin his life, of course — but he could not fathom why he felt this pull toward an alpha of all people. Was it simple frustration? It was probably past time he married and settled down.

Kloff opened the desk drawer and took out the engagement ring. The sapphire, catching the lamplight, glowed a vivid blue, and the sight lifted his spirits a little. He tucked the ring neatly back in the drawer, and turned to the documents that his unexpected visitor had kept him from finishing.