Xander's Mate

by Abigail Raines

  “You didn’t say no,” Andre says, his eyes yet wider with excitement.

  “How ‘bout that?” I toss him a wink and he beams at me, raising his bottle of tonic.

  “Thanks, Miss H! You can come over any night for dinner,” he says on his way out, giving Pfeiffer one last pet. “We always eat at six.”

  “Thanks, kid. I’ll keep it in mind.”

  When he’s gone, I dash back to my cauldron to finish this particular potion. It’s my best seller, for customers in the know who come down to my place referred over by the magic shop in Quinton. It’s a potion for confidence. I sell it to a lot of students and also people who are about to go on a job interview or request a raise or who want to ask somebody out. I’ve been asked a thousand times if it really works and it does. It’s real magic and it’s effective. I’ve only heard good things back from people who have used it. Could somebody function the same way with a placebo? Probably some. But the potion still works and I need to make a living.

  I’m a professional witch.

  My email dings. It’s the email I only use for my activist work and I shuffle back over to my laptop when I’m done with the potion, letting it cool.

  I have a response from Xander Tremblay’s assistant. I try not to get too excited. Tremblay’s have been giving me the run-around for weeks. At first he seemed like somebody who might actually listen to what I have to say about his rumoured “Godrun drone” and some of the other work the Tremblay Company does. Then he kept blowing me off. I should’ve known better really. He might be somewhat of a philanthropic now and again, according to my research, but he’s still just another billionaire out for whatever profit he can bleed from the world, no matter who he has to exploit.

  Mr. Tremblay invites you to meet with him on Thursday afternoon for lunch…

  My breath catches in my throat. He’s actually going to meet with me. I reread the email a few times to make sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me. No, it’s true. Tremblay’s actually going to meet with me. I’ve been annoyed with his responses, but compared to most of the CEOs I’ve hassled in the interests of both the environment and human beings...this is huge.

  I take a deep breath and shake my hands out, still dusted with the powdered squid I’d used in my potion. I respond politely and professionally and accept his invitation, thanking him for his attention.

  When I was younger and doing this kind of work, I used to spit fire. But I eventually found out, you catch more bees with honey. You at least need to be polite when you’re dealing with these people.

  Shit, I think to myself. What the hell am I going to wear?

  Somehow, I manage to dig up a decent skirt and blouse that look good enough for a business meeting by Thursday. My usual workaday uniform is overalls and t-shirts. From there, it’s easy. Panty hose, cheap makeup used with skill, and a taming of my mass of curly red hair. All I can really do if I want to look really slick, is stuff my hair back into a neat little bun. Otherwise, it just explodes over my head. The shoes are basic black heels and ancient. If he looks closely at my shoes, he’ll see how scuffed up they are. But then, if he doesn’t listen to what I have to say because my shoes are scuffed up, I’m probably screwed anyway.

  On Thursday, I get dressed up nice, organize my data in a neat looking folder and head out. My old Corolla is on its last legs but luckily, the Tremblay HQ isn’t far. I can see it from my apartment window as a matter of fact. That big blue “TC” logo on the corner of the building and the occasional aircraft I sometimes see taking off from the runway behind it are usually enough to motivate me in my activism work.

  I drive the beaten up Corolla across town to Tremblay. The Tremblay Company is in a tricky location. It’s situated just within Quinton city limits although most people don’t know that. It appears to be in the town of Lynwood which is where I live. Lynwood has significantly less money than Quinton. But you wouldn’t know that to look at Tremblay’s pretty offices and its massive R & D departments. I drive around for ten minutes before I find the guest parking but luckily I’ve timed myself to be a little early, having never been down to the HQ and not wanting to run late for any reason. I straighten my blouse and check my hair on my phone camera on the way to the lobby where I don’t miss the receptionist giving me a quick once over when I walk in.

  “Good afternoon,” I say brightly. “I’m meeting with Mr. Tremblay. My name is Olivia Hathaway.” I get a guest pass and sign her iPad. Then, I have to wait for Xander Tremblay’s assistant to come meet me. I’m maybe a little smug that it takes him a while so that I’m very much on time but the meeting is already running late on Xander’s end.

  “Ms. Hathaway, good morning! I’m Mike.” Mike smiles and shakes my hand. Nothing snooty about him. I have fully expected to immediately be seen as a low class interloper or something. Probably because I drive an ancient Corolla and live on the bad side of Lynwood and know exactly how much the Tremblay Company is worth.

  “Good to meet you,” I say. I give him a smile because I don’t like to come in cold if I don’t have to. “Call me Olivia.”

  “Sure. Apologies, that we’re running a few minutes behind,” Mike says, leading me to the elevator. “We’re always pretty busy around here.”

  “No problem.”

  I can’t pretend he’s keeping me from anything. I work at home and I set my own hours. I can meet any time.

  We take the elevator to the seventh floor, clutching my messenger bag close as we chitchat about the cool, crisp weather. I’ve been thinking about this meeting ever since I started researching all the rumours about the Godrun drone. Tremblay can be pretty secretive about his projects but he also likes to drum up interest and is pretty decent at the PR game. Or his people are anyway.

  He’s also hot as hell. Like not regular hot. Xander Tremblay is movie star hot. He could probably be an Avenger based on looks alone. I think of that now and brace myself. I’ve only seen pictures of him, hiding his big but defined muscles under designer suits, his intense dark eyes staring from whatever website I was reading at the time. Not that any of that matters a lick. The guy is one of those guys. One of those guys doing his damndest to make the world a worse place. Or anyway, he doesn’t seem to care what he does to it or to other people.

  I follow Mike to a huge office with the blinds drawn and wait patiently while Mike goes in to fetch Tremblay.

  When Xander Tremblay walks out, I think I still visibly flinch, he’s so goddamn hot. But I draw myself up. I might be a little nervous about this meeting, but I’m still confident. I’ve gone up against other fish just as big as Xander Tremblay and lived to tell the tale after all.

  Tremblay seems surprised when he sees me too, and I can’t think of why. What exactly was he expecting?

  “Ms. Hathaway,” Tremblay says, shaking my hand.

  “Olivia,” I say, smiling. “Please. Good to meet you, Mr. Tremblay.”

  “Olivia,” he says. “Please call me Xander.”

  It’s a good thing I can compartmentalize because as evil as he is, I’m trying to memorize the way he said my name just now so I can remember it when I’m alone with my own fingers for company. Damn.

  I am sort of surprised he asked me to call him Xander though. He does not seem like the type.

  “Thank you for meeting with me,” I say immediately. “I know how busy a man like you must be.” Xander raises an eyebrow at that and I wonder if he caught onto the veiled flattery it was meant to be. Most guys puff up a little when I remind them how important they are.

  “Not too busy for somebody who’s so interested in the future of Tremblay Company,” he says, smiling wryly. “Come on. Let’s have lunch in the commissary.”

  “The commissary?” I say, following him right back to the elevator.

  “Well, we could go to some fancy restaurant, but we have great food here. Seems like a waste of time. Do you like goat cheese?”

  “Goat cheese…”

  “I’ve been on a goat cheese kick.” In the
elevator, Xander frowns at me and heaves a sigh. “I take these types of meetings very seriously, I assure you. I’m just uh… I’ve been particularly busy today, not enough sleep combined with too much caffeine probably. Have we met before?” His voice goes up a little bit at the end in a sort of comical way that makes me bite back a chuckle.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I could swear…” He shakes his head and that’s when I smell it. I’m fully human. I am not a shifter, nor do I have the shifter gene (I heard tell of it a while back and had myself tested and it didn’t take) but...technically I have shifter blood. Plenty of it really.

  Magic is weird like that sometimes.

  I can’t shift, I don’t smell like a shifter and I’m one hundred percent human. But I’ve learned to sniff them out, having spent enough time around them, especially in my childhood. And only now do I smell it, once I look for it. Underneath the teasing hint of high end cologne and the hair product there’s...yes…

  Xander Tremblay is a wolf shifter.

  Well, I’ll be damned.

  For a second, I can only stare at him, with my mouth hanging open. I feel like this changes something, but it really shouldn’t. He’s just like any other CEO. He just happens to be a wolf shifter.

  Forget about it, I tell myself.

  “Um...I like goat cheese,” I say instead.

  “They have a very good salad in the commissary,” Xander says. “With these candied walnuts? Cranberries? Goat cheese?”

  “I’ve...had something like that,” I say, nodding politely. Why are we talking about salad? What is happening? “Sounds very good.”

  “Anyway.” Xander clears his throat and we walk out of the elevator into a wide and bustling corridor where everyone seems to straighten up a little bit when they see Xander, he tilts his head when he looks at me. “I’ve read everything you sent me, by the way. But I think you’re wrong.”

  “About which part?” I say, raising an eyebrow.

  “The treatment of the miners in northern Chile,” Xander says. “We have the mines inspected regularly.”

  I can’t help it. I actually snort a laugh at that. But when I look at him, he seems guileless. Or he’s a very good actor. I assume the latter. He knows better. He’s just trying to play me. “Oh, well...if they were inspected,” I say, shaking my head.

  I can already see this is a waste of time.

  Xander frowns at me but he lets it go for now as we grab platters and go through the commissary line just like everyone else. I keep waiting for him to skip ahead and pull rank or something. This seems like it must be for show. CEOs don’t eat in the commissary. They have stuff brought to them. Better stuff.

  “You came on a good day,” Xander says. “The specialty is risotto.”

  “Risotto,” I say. Or maybe not. The place is just that fancy, I guess. “Sure. I’ll try it. How much do you charge for risotto?”

  Xander asks for two risottos and says, “The risotto is ten. But everybody who works here gets one meal computed a day.”

  “Really?” I say, taken aback. “Everyone? Even the...the guy who scrubs the floors?”

  “Most of the people who scrub the floors are women,” Xander says, shrugging. “And of course, them too. They work the hardest, don’t they?”

  “Um...yeah.”

  He’s putting it on for me. Even if it is true. I know what I know about the mines. Xander Tremblay is definitely full of shit.

  We get the fancy salad with the goat cheese and passion fruit iced tea and risotto and Xander leads me to a table by a window that looks out on a spacious courtyard across from which is the gigantic R & D department.

  When we sit down, I take a deep breath and say, “I know you don’t seriously believe that the inspections you require are legit? I’m guessing they’re from a regional compliance company?”

  Xander frowns around a bite of salad, the fork still in his mouth. His surprised expression looks sort of funny as he chews and swallows. “They are. They’re highly rated-”

  “They’re on the take,” I say doubtfully. I can’t quite figure out if he’s bullshitting or not. “They’re always on the take. If you really want to know how the mines are run, you have to send your own people and it has to be a surprise visit. Have you sent your own people?”

  “Yes,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

  “Did the foremen know you were coming?”

  “I...yes,” he says, sighing. “But-”

  “Mr. Tremblay, they’re taking money from the foremen who are probably giving you incredible productivity because their workers are most likely mistreated and they’re most likely underage-”

  “We do not have child miners working for the Tremblay Company,” he says. I see him getting hot under the collar now.

  “And I’m telling you with absolute certainty, you don’t know that,” I tell him. “I’ve been tracking companies like yours and how they delegate out their ethical obligations and...you could do worse but you could do better. That’s not to mention the environmental-”

  “Oh.” Xander grins now. “Yeah, about that. All your numbers on Godrun are wrong. Which isn’t surprising since you’re only going on rumors.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I…” Xander rubs his face. “I’m not the science guy. I admit that. Your emails and studies...some of them were over my head, to be honest with you. But I passed it on to my people and they can tell you exactly how the Godrun drone as well as all of our current aircraft are set to meet fuel efficiency standards that are fifty percent above the current obligation. Fifty. Five oh. And if you have any doubts about that...I’m willing to let you tour our labs and see for yourself.”

  “Fifty,” I mutter. “How’d you manage that?”

  “Ethanol,” Xander says, shrugging. “I’m sure you know that the FAA approved bio-based jet fuels a few years ago. Most people aren’t bothering to use it. We’re going to use it, but we’ve improved it. FAA is on the verge of approving our new formula.”

  “Huh.”

  Xander smiles at me across the table and takes a big bite of salad. I eat some of my risotto.

  He has surprised me. Just a bit.

  “You’re impressed,” he says smugly.

  “I’m...surprised. But…well.”

  “Yes, Ms. Hathaway?” Xander says, in that same sexy voice he used to say my name earlier.

  “I don’t think you should make the Godrun to begin with.” I smile tightly and scarf down about half my risotto. Xander just stares at me blankly.

  I think he’s going to get pissed. I’m not anybody really, is the thing. I’m an activist and with no group behind me. Through sheer determination (and a couple of helpful hexes and spells) I’ve gotten a few powerful men to capitulate and gotten some press doing so and also made some bad press happen when they didn’t follow through. I don’t get paid for any of it. It’s almost a hobby. Just a very intense hobby. I’m not powerful per se, but I’m just enough of a pain in the ass that Xander Tremblay at least had to meet with me.

  I wait for Xander Tremblay to tell me off and say that I’m a nobody and how dare I and this will be a an amazing technological leap forward and-

  “You sound like my brother,” Xander Tremblay says, shaking his head. “Did he put you up to this by any chance?”

  “Uh…” I shake my head. “No. Which brother?”

  “Mason,” Xander says, grinning. “Micah and Aaron don’t want anything to do with TC, honestly. But Mason’s my second in command.”

  “Don’t you have an assistant CEO?”

  “That’s just a title. I hired Jeremy for the credibility. But Mason’s my real lieutenant. It’s important to have somebody who’s smart, someone who you trust and who often disagrees with you. Don’t you think?”

  “I…” I take a sip of iced tea and clink his glass with mine. “That’s wise. Yeah.”

  “Well…” Xander heaves a sigh. “Looks like I’m going to Chile.”

  I
blink at him a little stupidly. “Hmm?”

  “You’ve been doing this a long time,” he says. “I know you’re not full of it. I can fly there pretty quickly and back. If I’ve got mistreated child miners supplying my altanium, I want to know about it. Better to see it for myself.”

  “Right,” I mutter. It sounds good, sure. But I still don’t trust him. He’s saying too many of the right things.

  “Why don’t you come with me?” Xander says.

  Now...I’m completely gobsmacked.

  “What’s that?”

  “Come with me,” Xander says, like it’s not a big deal. “All expenses paid, of course. You can document the whole thing, if you want to.”

  I snort at that, disbelieving. “And what if I’m right and you’ve got kid miners down there-”

  “Then you should definitely make sure I document it, shouldn’t you?”

  For a moment all I can do is stare at him. “Okay,” I say simply. “What’s the catch?”

  “The catch is that we’re leaving tomorrow,” Xander says, smirking. “So clear your schedule quick.”

  Chapter Three: Xander

  Olivia Hathaway definitely thinks I’m an asshole, which I’m not exactly accustomed to. Not that it bothers me. She’s one of those strident types. Strident types do a lot of good in the world. They can also go a bit far sometimes. Wanting to make sure I’m not buying my altanium from mines that use kids is fair. Wanting me not to make this drone at all is excessive (unless you’re talking to Mason, I guess). But I know she’s not going to let up on any of this. The best play from what I can see, is to give her a little something real. I’ll take her down to Chile, she’ll see she’s wrong about the mines and I’ll have cooperated in a major way. Even if she does go to the press after that about the imagined dangers of our new drone, I can legitimately say that I made real concessions.

  It takes some finagling to clear my weekend. I guess it makes things easier that, unlike my brothers, I don’t have a mate. It has occurred to me that I’m the oldest of my brothers and they’ve all found mates now but me. It has also stung a bit. I’m often so busy that I don’t have time to miss what I don’t have. But seeing my brothers so happy in their relationships, I have more and more wished for something like that with a mate of my own. But where does one find the time?