Chapter 351: Chapter 351: Proposal
Lucas sat on the edge of the bed, a cufflink balanced between his fingers, glaring at it like it had personally insulted him. The suit laid out across the coverlet was perfectly tailored, with the silk tie folded with military precision, Windstone’s handiwork, of course. Somewhere beyond the closed doors of their suite, the manor buzzed faintly with preparations for the evening: cars being readied, menus finalized, and staff scurrying in polite silence.
Across the room, Trevor adjusted the cuffs of his shirt in front of the mirror. Dark suit, violet tie, hair perfectly combed, he looked every inch the head of House Fitzgeralt. Tall, immaculate, and annoyingly attractive. Lucas’s green eyes lingered on him longer than was strictly dignified.
This was the problem.
He had two options:
One, put on the suit, smile through a formal dinner where ninety percent of the guests bored him, nine percent irritated him, and the final one percent, Trevor, Alistair, and Benjamin, were the only people worth his time.
Or two, stay home, drag Trevor back to the bed, and spend the entire night pursuing something far more interesting than small talk and dry speeches. Namely, his ongoing project of turning "just this once" into "let’s actually make a child."
His lips twitched. Honestly, was it even a debate?
Trevor caught his reflection in the mirror and turned, violet eyes finding him easily. "What’s that look for?" he asked, voice mild.
Lucas clicked the cufflink shut and sighed. "Deciding whether I want to waste a perfectly good evening on people I don’t like or lock the door and keep you all to myself."
Trevor’s mouth curved into a small, knowing smile that softened the hard line of his jaw. "If it were up to me," he said, crossing the room in three slow strides, "we’d already be under the covers, and I wouldn’t let you out until the sun came up."
He stopped in front of Lucas, looking down at him with that calm, steady weight that always made Lucas feel like the room had shrunk to just the two of them. "But duty’s duty," Trevor went on, the corner of his mouth quirking, "and if we both vanish tonight, half the guest list will take it as a declaration of war. Or an invitation to gossip. Or both."
Lucas raised one brow, still not moving from the edge of the bed. "You’re not making this sound appealing."
Trevor bent slightly, bracing his hands on either side of Lucas’s thighs so they were eye-to-eye. "Then let me make it appealing," he murmured, cedar curling around his words. "Go. Smile. Endure. And when we’re home..." his voice dipped, rougher, right against Lucas’s ear, "I’ll give you exactly what you’ve been thinking about since you picked up that cufflink."
Lucas blinked up at him, pulse quickening despite himself. "Promise?"
"Promise," Trevor said simply. He straightened, thumb brushing once across Lucas’s jaw as he stepped back. "And if you behave through the speeches," he added, violet eyes glinting with amusement, "I might even let you decide where we start."
Lucas stared at him for a beat longer, then huffed a quiet laugh and reached for the silk tie. "Fine," he muttered, but the edge of his mouth had softened. "But I’m holding you to it. Every word."
Trevor’s smile deepened. "I wouldn’t expect anything less."
—
The ballroom gleamed with crystal chandeliers and the low murmur of too many conversations layered over the clink of glass. Lucas moved through it like water, green eyes bright, platinum ring catching the light as he shook hands, accepted compliments, and parried questions with the easy grace of someone who had finally decided to weaponize charm.
"...yes, Baye was beautiful this time of year," he told a minister’s wife, his smile perfectly polite. "But no, we don’t plan to stay longer next time. Some of us actually enjoy winter."
A ripple of polite laughter. Lucas tilted his head just so, and the woman beamed at him as though he’d shared a private joke.
At another table, he leaned closer to a financier’s daughter, listening intently before cutting her nervous babble short with a single, smooth line: "If you’re this passionate about energy projects, you should send me a proposal. I’ll make sure it’s read." The girl blushed crimson.
By the time he excused himself, three officials were convinced they’d just had the most pleasant conversation of their careers.
Trevor, standing a pace behind, kept his composure outwardly. Impeccable suit, steady hand on his glass of wine. But his jaw was tighter than usual, violet eyes tracking Lucas like he was something rare and dangerous slipping through the crowd.
Because tonight, he couldn’t explain it, Lucas looked different. Sharper, brighter, like the lines of him had been drawn with a finer pen. His hair gleamed under the lights, his smile curved in all the right places, and his voice was a low velvet note that seemed to draw people in and hold them.
And the worst part was, Lucas knew it.
Across the room, Alistair leaned against the bar with a drink, watching with amusement. "He’s going to combust," he said casually.
Benjamin, all burgundy silk and gold rings, didn’t even look away from the dance floor. "Darling, combust is too small a word. Look at him." He gestured with his glass, eyes glittering. "Lucas is smiling. Sincerely smiling. That man hasn’t smiled this much since his wedding photographs. Something’s brewing."
Alistair smirked into his drink. "I give it less than a year before we’re buying tiny Fitzgeralt cufflinks."
Benjamin gasped, delighted. "Less than a year? Please. Six months, and I’ll design the nursery. Do you want to place a bet?"
Meanwhile, Lucas turned, catching Trevor’s gaze across the room. He held it, just a little too long, before giving him a smile that was nothing short of wicked. Then he turned back to his conversation, as though nothing had happened.
Trevor’s hand tightened imperceptibly around the stem of his glass.
Alistair’s chuckle was low. "And that’s the look of a man who just lost control of his evening."
Benjamin’s grin turned feline. "And possibly the next eighteen years."