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“You want how much directed toward local schools?” The finance minister gaped at Oliver. And the education minister went a little pale, as though he wasn’t even sure what he would do with that money. Which was fine because Oliver would be the one directing its allocation.
“I don’t know why you’re taking that tone.” Oliver leaned back in his seat and tapped his finger against the hardwood table. He knew exactly why the minister was taking that tone—the figure was astronomical—but he would just have to swallow it. “My family will be putting that and another fifty percent on top of it toward education in the region.”
“That’s as much as the education budget for the entirety of Klah,” the finance minister finally managed to stammer.
“Well, frankly, I think that’s absurd, but that’s your problem.” Oliver shrugged a single shoulder, and the finance minister’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. His cheeks started to turn purple on his dusky skin, and Oliver wished he could smell, like klah’eel. What did someone that was positively livid smell like?
He glanced at Mal’ik to see him with the ghost of a smile on the non-mangled half of his mouth. It must smell quite amusing then.
“My family will be opening numerous mining and industrial facilities in the Southern Tava hinterlands, and we have no desire for illiterate employees nor to lose high-potential young talent to better-served areas. The cities may be educated, but the number of schools near our planned locations is abysmal.” Oliver cut a carefully constructed bored gaze back to the finance minister. “You understand we can’t possibly make these investments knowing that we’ll be building on an uneducated and potentially dwindling workforce.”
The finance minister didn’t reply immediately, so Oliver carried on as though he had.
“I’m glad you understand me.” He leaned forward and addressed the still shell-shocked education minister. “Now that that’s settled, I have some detailed plans on how I want these funds allocated, but you’re welcome to give input.”
The finance minister stood and sputtered something about needing to speak with the head of treasury and then left while Oliver went over plans with the education minister. Oliver was certain he’d push back on his proposed budget, but by then, Oliver would have won over the education minister, and if all went according to plan, the military minister as well. Once he had those two, he would be in an even stronger position.
It turned out that despite all his mousiness in previous interactions, the education minister did have some good ideas, and their planning went late into the evening. It was dark by the time they were done, and Oliver was hungry and thirsty and very, very pleased with himself.
He waited until he and Mal’ik were alone in an arcade and heading back to their quarters before turning to him. He smirked, practically bubbling with pride and barely able to tamp it down. “A few hours of arguments, a lot of money, and now every village in Southern Tava will have a nearby school.”
Mal’ik raised his horned eyebrow, but he gave him a smile that pulled his scarred lips around one of his tusks in a way that made Oliver’s insides flutter. “I didn’t see any papers being signed.”
Oliver waved a hand and tsked. “That part will come. For now, have someone bring dinner to my quarters and a bottle of whatever it is that’s used to celebrate around here.”
Mal’ik relayed the order into his earpiece as Oliver strode along the hallway, hands twitching with energy. He hadn’t brought an entourage, though one had certainly been expected of him. He didn’t need one, and he didn’t want one. He didn’t like people he didn’t trust hanging around him, and he didn’t trust anyone. He only tolerated bodyguards because he knew what could happen without them.
But there were times when even Oliver could think that was lonely, and now here he was riding high on success with no one to care about it.
When they got to Oliver’s room, Oliver turned to face Mal’ik and lifted his chin. “Will you come in? Having a drink with someone is a celebration, but having a drink by myself is just pathetic, and I’m clearly not pathetic.”
Mal’ik frowned. “I’m on duty,” he replied in his ever-calm, even voice.
“You won’t be when the night guards get here,” Oliver pointed out, and then he could have kicked himself.
The man got two hours alone at most before he had to go to sleep then wake up and be glued to Oliver’s demanding side all over again. Of course he didn’t want to spend that time with Oliver too. He hadn’t asked Oliver to provide schools to remote villages; Oliver had done that all on his own because he—
Oliver grimaced. Because he wanted Captain Mal’ik.
And Captain Mal’ik knew that. He had smelled it on him that day in the courtyard. Oliver felt a hot flush behind his ears. Mal’ik was so calm and steady, Oliver occasionally forgot that Mal’ik knew. Of course he wouldn’t want to spend his limited free time in a room with a client practically salivating over him.
“Never mind. Of course, that’s your time, forget I asked.” Oliver turned back to his door, ducked his head, and fumbled with the keypad. He couldn’t remember the stupid code, and he just wanted to get the stupid door open. All his previous jubilation drained away like it had never been there, spiraling down into some black abyss in the floor, and Oliver wished it would take his body with it.
“I’ll come in.”
Oliver’s head popped up, and his heart jumped into his throat. “You will? I mean, you don’t have to.”
Mal’ik nodded, his scarred lips twitching into a little smile. “Once the guards get here. I’ll come in.”
“Wonderful.” Oliver grinned. The muscles of his cheeks rebelled against the unfamiliar feeling. He forced the expression into a much more reasonable smile. “I’ll see you later then.”
The code came back to him, and he escaped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He leaned against it and chewed on his lip, his stomach swirling and his heart hammering.
Oliver had made better decisions in his life. He’d been heady with his success, feeling powerful and bold. And now he felt stupid. What was his plan anyway? Did he have a plan? Dinner and a drink? And then a good night, it was nice to have you over, please ignore the obvious pheromones I’m pumping into the room?
Or he could throw himself at Mal’ik like a dog in heat. That was an option. Oliver gave that maybe a fifty percent chance of success. It really depended on whether the shudder that had passed through Mal’ik’s muscular body that day in the courtyard had been disgust or restraint.
