Her Impossible Mate

2- Zander to Friends

...Zander...

Readjusting the collar and cuffs of my crisp white button-down shirt, I wait impatiently for the irritating 'ding' of the elevator door. It comes a few seconds later, as bothersome as expected, and the doors slide open to reveal the bustling top floor of Crescent Corp. 

Extending my right hand out expectantly, I step out into the hive of activity. As always, my hand is met with the same coffee order as every work morning. Elijah, who placed said cup, walks in stride with me towards my office detailing today's agenda. 

"And your sister wanted me to remind you about the meeting with the Blackwood's tomorrow evening, sir." His voice trails off, his eyes refusing to meet mine as we stand outside my office door. My nostrils flare, and I can't stop my teeth grinding in frustration. Not at Elijah; he is a fantastic assistant. No, it's the name he has mentioned that has me irked.  

Deep breath in... Breathe out.

"Thank you, Elijah." I swallow any annoyance, desperate not to lose this assistant. My last two assistants left as women scorned after they failed to realise my f*cking them was just that- a good f*ck. I was never looking for more, and I thought that was clear. Apparently not. They both left in a dramatic and public flurry of choice words and a firm whack at my cheek. It was a pattern I wanted to break. While they may be an easy lay, f*cking your assistant inevitably causes too much drama. So while I'm sure Elijah has an ass you could bounce a quarter off, he isn't my type. He does his job well, and I wanted to keep him. That also meant resisting the urge to snap at him over the small things.

He gives me a sympathetic smile, hands over some reports and files before giving me a nod then walking to his desk. 

Entering my office, I take in the view through the panoramic windows, the sun peeking over the other skyscrapers around. While sipping at my steaming coffee, internally begging the caffeine to kick in soon, I make my way to the large black desk. The files Elijah handed over collide with the desktop as I collapse into the chair with unnecessary force. 

Since taking over from my father, I notice a shift in my mood. My father, James Heroux, passed away almost six months ago from natural causes - no doubt, stress and high blood pressure were contributing factors. There was nothing suspicious about his death apart from it being sudden. He was a workaholic, alcoholic asshole who smoked like a chimney and ate extravagant food without thought for his health. We all knew it would catch up to him one day... 

As a father, he probably missed the mark. But as a businessman and a leader, he left some big shoes to fill. So now that job falls to me, his firstborn; Alexander James Heroux. Zander to friends, Zan to family. And to say I was struggling to adjust to the rigidity of this lifestyle is an understatement.

Sitting behind a desk with a tie so tight it could choke me (and not in a fun way) was a change of pace from my previous life. Sure, I worked here before my father's death, but I also had the freedom to enjoy life. That meant parties, excessive drinking, women and a hell of a lot of fun. That lifestyle started to wither away the moment the responsibility fell to me. I'm the Alpha now.

Modern day pack life is a far cry from the stories of old. Human advancements in technology made hiding our kind difficult. Their expansion into once undiscovered lands meant packs had to scatter. Our people struggled to survive, and our numbers reduced significantly because of hunting, loss of land and and lack of connections to our traditional way of life. We had to adapt or die. 

The story is there was a sort of civil war within the species; those that refused to walk away from traditional pack lives and those who were prepared to change to fit this new world. Generations ago, our family advocated for packs to change and move away from the rural community traditions of habitual pack life. What is the best way to hide and thrive in this modern world? Business. And damn have the Heroux family succeeded in business. 

I tilt my head to each side, pops and cracks of my stiff joints echoing through my modern and minimalist office. The taps of computer keys follow as I dive into my emails and start the working day.

The office door swings open, and an uninvited but not wholly unexpected guest swishes into my office.

"Selena. It's courtesy to knock." My eyes don't leave my screen as the click of her stilettos echoes rhythmically around the room.

"Oh brother, surely family is always welcome?" My sister struts over and perches herself on the edge of my desk, leaning back slightly to peek at my computer screen. We're close, so she is always welcome. Although with my elevated irritability, some peace and quiet would be nice.

"What do you want, Lena?" I stop my work and rotate to face her. She eyes me with her brow quirked and her lips pursed. 

"I'm checking in with you about tomorrow night." Her tone is even, but her eyebrow raises impossibly higher. I grumble slightly, knowing the meeting she is referencing. 

My father left us a lot of positive things after his death. The pack, the business and the copious amount of money are very welcomed. Something which is not so welcome is the feud between our family and the Blackwood's. The Heroux and Blackwood families are very prominent in the human business world. They are also the two most significant wolf packs on this side of the world, hidden in plain sight amongst the humans. Of course, both chose the same city to be the centre of operations. Although both have bases set up around the country, our core hub of activity is right on each others doorstep. 

Territory disagreements and pack feuds are not fought on battlefields with teeth and fists anymore. No, these battles happen in boardrooms with contracts and agreements. To me, a fistfight is somewhat more appealing right now.

"Yes, Lena, I will be fine." The words feel forced, but I try to keep to appear indifferent, a causal shrug to go along with my flat tone. Lena sees through me, of course, and rolls her eyes before slumping down in the chair across from me.

"Sure... And you've seen the email with the change of location?" Her voice has an air of humour, and it makes me feel on edge. I glare at her as the left side of her mouth quirks into a devious smirk. Spinning back to my computer, I sift through the reams of emails to find the joke I'm so clearly missing. My eyes skim over the meeting adjustments sent over by the Blackwood's and scoff.

"They're joking?" Lena's smile grows wider at my disbelief. 

This. This is why we don't like working with the Blackwood's. They're unprofessional. Treating their business and their pack like some sort of joke. They're cruel and callous too, lazy and just wholly tiresome to work alongside. Even though my father was the biggest asshole, his main priority was always the health and strength of the pack. He would never treat a meeting of such importance so inappropriately, and neither would I. 

In his time as Alpha, my father only fanned the flames of this feud with his refusal to compromise with Mr Blackwood and his... business style. So now we are stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

"Those mongrels." I hiss out. Lena folds her arms in displeasure.

"Careful, brother. Your superiority complex is showing." Her chastising tone does nothing to quell my annoyance. And also, I was right. We are better than them. Not because the Heroux family were purebloods descended from the original packs. All that offered us was a slight edge in wolf form, the small chance of finding a potential mate and the venom in our bite that could turn a human into one of us if desired. What made us better was that they were reckless and foolish, and we could best them in business and battle. 

I brush my palm over my stubbled chin, exasperated by even the thought of the meeting tomorrow. Luckily, Lena would be with me and, hopefully, know how to dull my temper. She is a good sister and a great business partner. With her by my side, surely we can come to some suitable arrangement with the Blackwood family. 

Lena stayed a while, discussing hum drum work stuff- reports, schedules, finances etc. It was nothing that lifted my mood, that's for sure. She wanted to go over arrangements for our annual fundraiser. Theme ideas, locations and other finer details. The money from the fundraisers are always split between two charities. One is always a known human charity, supporting different causes each year. The other is a foundation set up by Lena and I to support homeless youths, some human but predominately packless wolves. We recognise our privilege with our position and our pack, and hope to help young packless wolves make the best of their lives. The only downside to the event this year is that I have to be more of a front figure after my father's passing. And that meant schmoozing the press and any high profile guests.

Lena breezed out of my office an hour or so later, just as swiftly as she'd breezed it. Her absence allowed me to actually attend to my tasks for the day. Lunchtime came and went with a sushi delivery from Elijah, though I didn't really stop to enjoy it. 

I worked until late evening when the quiet hum of activity outside my office had calmed over an hour ago. The light outside is fading fast, as is my tolerance for being in this building. Completing everything I set out to do for the day, I grab my stuff and prepare to escape. 

My body and mind have been restless all afternoon, and that hasn't changed even after leaving the building. I desperately need a good release, be it a shift or a good f*ck. Both are long overdue. But it won't be tonight. With some luck, Blackwood's daughter will accompany him tomorrow evening. She is always talking about getting her hands into business. And she had good hands. 

Thoughts of my last encounter with Evangeline Blackwood enter my mind as I stride through the lobby of my apartment complex towards the elevator. Adjusting my walk slightly as my pants grow a little tighter, I enter the confined space and hit "Penthouse".  

An accidental one night stand with Eva had turned into two nights, then three. Until Eva had turned into one of the most consistent hookups I've ever had. Don't get me wrong, that's all she is- a hookup. You won't find me enjoying brunches or events with her on my arm. The thought of having daily conversations with her is enough to soften my d**k. Her shill voice only sounded appealing when calling out my name in ecstasy. But our ability to enjoy time together, even if we had to be naked and entangled, had inspired me to mend fences with the Blackwood family. 

The thought of other less appealing Blackwoods and the meeting tomorrow is enough to help my erection subside completely. The last-minute change to the meeting plan has me uneasy, and the fact it was moved to a Gentlemen's Club only fuels those feelings. It is clearly no place for serious business discussions. So that left me thinking that either the Blackwood's didn't care about coming to an amicable arrangement or that they were incapable of serious business. Neither made me feel confident about the events of tomorrow night. 

That being said, Lena had made her thoughts about the meeting location perfectly clear. She is delighted and found it unnecessarily amusing. However, she has the luxury of enjoying things a little more than me. Lena is the COO to my CEO. She is my right-hand man, my Beta. Her personality also made her a lot more laid back than me, allowing her to see the fun side of all this and embrace the ridiculousness a little more.

I really wish I could do that. Unfortunately, too much responsibility sits on my shoulders. And because of that, a hollow and foreboding feeling weighs heavily on my chest.

Shaking away the negative feelings, I walk to my home bar, which is equipped better than some businesses in the city. Tonight is a top-shelf kind of night. I reach for an old favourite, a bottle of Arran 25 year old single malt, bottled from casks my father had acquired after my birth. While it sounds sentimental, my father loved any excuse to invest in good whiskey. I had collected the bottles myself on a visit to Scotland last year. This whiskey is as old as me and is my go-to whiskey for all occasions. 

Pouring the smooth amber liquid into an intricate glass tumbler, I loosen my tie in the hopes of feeling more at ease. I sigh at the pressure releasing from my neck and gulp down a generous amount of the delicious liquid. Disappointingly, the result is underwhelming and doesn't have the desired effect. I start to unbutton my crisp shirt and kick off my smart Oxford shoes. Pouring another glass, I pick up the bottle and walk out onto the extensive balcony that wraps around the majority of the apartment. 

The bracing evening breeze laps at my skin as I walk towards the edge of the balcony, causing my open shirt to trail behind me. I look over the cityscape like a King looking over his kingdom. 

As I place down my drink, that foreboding feeling continues to hang over me, pressing down on me. It has been a long time since I can genuinely say that I have felt relaxed, but this feeling is something more. It is a feeling that tells me something is coming, something big. I cannot decide if that is a good thing, though good things don't usually come to not so good people. Maybe karma is finally on its way.

My hands land on the balcony rail, all of my weight pressing down, my head hung. My mind feels restless and uneasy at whatever fate has in store. With one more agitated sigh, I push back from the balcony and return to my bottle. Half-empty. Trailing back inside, I abandon the glass and resort to sipping straight from the bottle. A disrespect for good whiskey, but I know the bottle will be empty tonight. Why waste time pouring?

My mind returns to business as I collapse onto my large, black corner sofa. I sip methodically, thinking over plans and approaches for the Blackwoods tomorrow. All the while, the pressure of destiny builds in my chest. My restless mind starts to blur, as does my vision, and the weight of the whiskey bottle signals the end. I haul myself from the sofa, muscles tight and sore. My feet drag along the cold marble tile on the walk to the master bedroom. Finally, I collapse into my excessive, oversized bed, my body satisfied at the invitation of rest.

But my mind refuses to give in to sleep, one question clawing its way to the front; What would tomorrow bring?