Chapter Seventeen
Lionel
It was just after lunchtime when Lionel put down his phone and ran a hand through his hair and around to his neck, rubbing at the spot where his tension had been tightening his muscles.
He had gone into the office that morning, determined to be proactive.
Lionel refused to let Pennington’s bigotry impact his business.
He wasn’t short of money. If and when Brad ever needed to leave work for a short time—if he was pregnant, for example—Lionel had plenty of funds to look after them both and any cubs.
They could be pups or cubs or a mixture of both. What would that make them? Cupups? Pucubs? Lionel didn’t care either way—he didn’t know if Brad wanted children, so the situation was moot for now. But Lionel was confident he could look after them both if needed.
Out of the six major lenders that he worked with for second-tier financing, two of them had Pride connections, and in his third-tier lender list, there were another three.
He hadn’t received any emails or calls from any of them, cutting him off from their funds, except Lionel was well aware of how a pride banishment worked.
Hitting the phone as he drank his first office coffee, with a list of client mortgages in front of him, Lionel started reworking the affected mortgages, seeking funds from non-pride lenders.
Of course, that wasn’t as simple as just making calls.
There was a ton of paperwork associated with shifting loans from one lender to another, and then there were the clients themselves who had to be advised.
With new loans, at least the clients would be able to adjust or increase their mortgages at a later stage if they wanted to, and in many cases the clients had already paid off part of their mortgages, meaning Lionel could get them a better interest rate for the refinanced amounts.
“Hey, I got you a good deal on this” was a great way to lead into potentially awkward conversations.
To help sweeten the deal for his clients, Lionel let them know he would be paying all the legal fees associated with the swap over himself, so all they had to do was sign the new paperwork.
As he ticked off the last client on his list, Lionel was quietly confident that all of his clients’ interests were taken care of, and that his reduced pool of second and third-tier lenders were aware of the pride situation and were happy to keep working with him.
One of his third-tier lenders, Simon, a big blustery horse shifter who conducted most of his deals on the golf course, actually laughed when Lionel told him of his predicament with the pride.
“Who the hell cares who you stick your dick into?” he’d boomed.
“None of that has anything to do with how you do business. Pennington has no sense. Congrats on the mating, Li. We’ll schedule a golf game next week when all this has settled down, yeah? ”
Simon was just the loudest of similar comments.
Many of his lender friends knew of Brad, or more of Brad’s Dad’s company.
“That guy’s got a lot of pull in the construction sector,” Peter, another investor, had announced.
“If Pennington’s upset him, he’s not going to be getting much built in this town. Hope he knows how to use a hammer.”
Letting out a long breath, Lionel checked his phone and thought about lunch. It was still hours until Brad was picking him up for their date.
As if she were psychic, Jasmine tapped on his office door and then poked her head around it. “Are you all finished, Mr. Lionel?”
“The calls are all made, yes.” Lionel nodded.
“I’ve sent through a whole stack of contracts for you to arrange to get signed.
I’m sorry about all this extra work at such short notice, but if we can get this taken care of, then all of our clients will have security going forward.
Which is the most important thing in this business. ”
“I can take care of them this afternoon, no problem. I was actually checking to see if you were ready for lunch.” Jasmine walked in with something held behind her back.
She pulled it around to the front, and Lionel could see it was a large box.
“I didn’t have a chance to go to the bakery on my way to work, but I did hear through that nasty business yesterday that you have found your mate. I thought that should be celebrated.”
She came closer, and Lionel sniffed. Whatever was in that box smelled really good.
“I’m not much of a baker myself,” Jasmine said with a giggle, “but my grandmother’s recipe for pulled pork pie is the best you’ll ever taste, so I thought I’d make it for you. A celebration lunch, if you like to call it that, because matings should be celebrated. I do hope you like it.”
“Jasmine, that’s so incredibly sweet. Please tell me you’ll join me in eating it.”
“I was hoping you’d offer.” Jasmine quickly pulled plates and cutlery out of the box. “I never say no to my grandmother’s recipe, even if I did make it myself.”
“It is truly appreciated.” Lionel hesitated a moment and then asked, “About yesterday. If there’s anything you want to talk about, you know you can talk to me about it, don’t you?
I realize what happened was not office-appropriate behavior, and you should never have had to witness that as part of your employment. ”
“It was Mr. Pennington who acted inappropriately—all that yelling and carrying on over your mate,” Jasmine said as she dished up one large and one smaller portion of pie. “Mates are supposed to be celebrated.”
“I’m still sorry you had to hear any of that.”
Jasmine moved the box out of the way on the table and flicked her hand at the door.
“You know I’m always friendly and respectful to anyone who comes into this office, and they are the same to me.
But I’ve come across people like Mr. Pennington outside of the office.
It’s my opinion that some people just like to yell so they can hear themselves speak. ”
She giggled again as she pushed the larger portion plate in Lionel’s direction and grabbed a seat on the other side of the desk. “I suspect the yellers are probably going deaf or something like that. Or maybe they can’t hear themselves because they’ve got so much poop between their ears.”
Lionel chuckled. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Anyway, let’s enjoy this pie. It does smell delicious.” He took out his phone and snapped a picture of it before typing a message. “My personal assistant made me a pie to celebrate our mating. Isn’t that sweet?” before sending it to Brad.
“Brad’s going to wish he was here,” he said, putting his phone away and picking up his knife and fork. “He’s currently renovating Morty’s bakery building, but Morty doesn’t make pie like this.”
“And he never will,” Jasmine said with another giggle. “My grandmother would hammer my pots into plates if I ever shared her recipes.”
“Then I feel doubly honored.” Lionel took a mouthful and nodded as his eyes widened. “Oh, this is good and truly appreciated. Thank you for helping make this day so much better.”
~/~/~/~
By the time Lionel felt he could leave for home for the night, it was closer to five thirty than his typical four.
Extra paperwork meant clients had questions, and one of the reasons Lionel was good at his job was that he always took the time to patiently explain clauses, interpret legalese, and help put his clients at ease.
There were also calls from a couple of lawyers he worked with regularly, wanting to chat to Lionel about why he was changing his sources of funding.
While they were likely checking in to make sure there was nothing going on with Lionel’s business that might impact their own, the congratulations on his mating and positive support made him feel a lot better.
Jasmine reported more than a few inquiries for mortgage finance had come through—some of them for larger than usual amounts—and Lionel asked her to send them a standard “Thank you, and I’ll get back to you within a few days” reply.
While mortgage finance was usually time-sensitive, Lionel wasn’t going to take on new clients until he had time to do his due diligence, and his existing clients’ need for reassurance came first.
Brad had messaged him a couple of times throughout the day, and at one point sent a video that panned up a freshly tiled wall, before flicking to Brad, who was covered in dust, and something gray was smeared on his cheek.
The overlaid caption read, “No one ever said this was a glamorous job, but it’s a good one when something works out.
” Lionel had sent him huge congratulations, and then, because he felt like it, he included the heart emoji.
Brad was his mate. It seemed like a nice thing to do.
Parking in his driveway, Lionel looked across to his front porch, frowning when he noticed a package.
I haven’t ordered anything. Securing his car, Lionel approached the porch slowly, trying to work out what the parcel was.
It was in a big basket with the top half covered in cellophane, secured with a large purple bow.
Has someone sent me flowers? Was it Brad?
As Lionel got closer, he could see it was a gift basket that was made out to be like a floral arrangement, but it wasn’t flowers he’d been sent.
It was chocolates that were made to look like a flower arrangement.
Bending over, Lionel picked it up and checked for a card.
Sure enough, it was from Brad. Hope this sweetens your day.
At the end of the message was a winky face emoji.
Filled with a warm feeling he couldn’t describe, Lionel let himself into the house, taking care not to drop the gift basket.
Walking into the kitchen, he put the unexpected gift on the kitchen counter so he could take off the cellophane.
Inhaling the deep smell of chocolate that emerged, Lionel was reminded of his first night with his mate and the éclairs. The chocolatey smell was very similar.
My mate does seem to have a bit of a kink for chocolate, he thought as he took the “bouquet” into the bedroom and left it on the bedside table.
He was looking forward to going out, to actually going on a date with Brad, yet, they had to come home at some point.
He winked at the bouquet. Best to have you here where you’re likely to be appreciated.
After having a quick shower, Lionel dithered over what to wear.
Brad hadn’t said where they were going, only that he’d made a booking for them for seven.
Deciding to go with “smart casual,” Lionel pulled on a comfortable pair of gray pants and then topped them with a pale pink polo shirt.
He took a matching gray suit jacket into the living room, throwing it over the back of his armchair in preparation for Brad’s arrival.
Sitting in his armchair, he pulled out his phone.
He had told Brad that he would text Mom, and he would.
He’d only put it off because he wasn’t sure what to say.
Lionel had never doubted that Mom loved him.
She just had a very hands-off approach when it came to child raising, which in hindsight was common back in the sixties and seventies. Especially in a male-dominated pride.
Lionel chuckled. Mom was definitely a product of the hippie movement. Understanding that didn’t take away the hurt she’d caused, but Lionel would always defend Mom to others, even if she didn’t support him in return. He always supported her choices.
Last he’d heard, she was still looking for her fated mate. I wonder what she’ll think when she hears I’ve found mine?
Being mated was the most important thing any paranormal could hope for. Focusing on that, Lionel brought up their message thread. She hadn’t been in touch for four months. That was totally normal for Mom. She was not a fan of phones. Inhaling sharply, Lionel typed.
Hi Mom, I hope you’re having fun. I have found and claimed my fated mate, Brad.
He’s the most adorable teacup poodle shifter you could ever hope to meet, who works in construction.
I’m sure we’ll be very happy together. Pennington found out and banished me from the pride, so I won’t be able to see you next time you’re home.
But know that I’m happy and I have a mate now.
I hope you’re safe and well and that you find your own mate too one day. Love, Lionel.
He hit send, watching as first one little bubble came up underneath to show he’d sent it, and then a second little circle came up indicating that the message had been received.
He waited a moment more, wondering if the bubble color would change, indicating she’d read it, but after a few moments, the bubbles remained clear.
At least I know it’s on her phone. With no idea of where she was or what time zone she was in, Lionel reasoned she could be asleep as he slipped his phone back in his pocket.
Flicking on the television, he waited. Brad would arrive in fifteen minutes, and they were going on a date. I’m ready for that fun night with my mate. That was worth smiling about.