Carrying The Alpha's Heir

Xander was more tired than he was ready to admit.

Having spent almost sixteen hours on a plane, writing emails and going through the contracts they had drafted during his stay abroad over and over again, had drained him of his last strength.

But when his assistant had told him to rest a little and take a nap, he had told the man that he would not do that, that he had work to do.

Just as it always was.

He had not been upset when his assistant himself had taken some time to rest himself, he deserved it after having done a great job with the preparations for their business trip, but his own mind was not ready to go into a more calm, a more relaxing mode.

The only thing he had allowed himself to have had been a small dinner in the form of a shrimp salad and one or two glasses of wine, something that took a little of the edge off him, that got his never resting brain into a state where he was not feeling rushed and stressed anymore, not that he would ever show anyone what was truly going on in his mind.

Instead, he had read the contract for a fifth time, adding a few remarks to the file on his tablet, and had nodded at some things that their future business partner had almost happily agreed to.

Making business with another brand of that scale, matching their own, was something the world was not expecting, maybe not ready for, but they would soon issue a public statement that would make all other competitors weep in fear.

Only when the pilot announced they were closing in to the coast of the country, had he saved the file and turned the tablet off, the nervous tingling in his fingertips had him taking a few deep breaths, had smiled at the flight attendant that had taken his now emptied glass away and had turned to look out of the window at his side.

Boarding off and going through customs had taken much longer than they had assumed, and all because some college students from another country had not considered that bringing weed into a country where ownership was strictly prohibited was maybe not the smartest idea, and after the three young girls had been escorted into the security area, a woman that had been flying with them first class had started to fuss about it being rude and unnecessary checking her things because she was famous and had connections.

"Remember that I need the Cartier contract with all the changes I put into the draft on my desk by tomorrow afternoon," he told his assistant, who nodded in reply.

"There are still a few small things I would like to adjust, and I need a phone conference as soon as possible with the CFO, but not before I've talked to my father about the results of our trip."

"Of course, Mr. Westwood," his assistant replied, already knowing that he would remember all those points until tomorrow and that when his employer arrived at the office he would at least have a Zoom call with New York and a first draft of the contract ready for revenue.

"That was great work," Alexander Westwood added.

"Thank you, Sir," the assistant replied with a smile and a little bow.

"I'm happy you were pleased with my work."

"I always am," Xander nodded. "Have a nice evening, I'll see you tomorrow."

He sighed and checked his phone for any new messages, and after he found none, he finally bid a final goodbye to his assistant who was already awaited at the exit by his mate, and then pushed the cart with his suitcases to the other exit, where he knew his driver and bodyguard would be waiting for him.

And indeed, the black-suited man was waiting for him, leaning against the side of the black Mercedes limousine, scrolling through something on his phone that had a ridiculous looking case that always made him shake his head at him with a smile.

Only when he was closer, the other looked up and grinned.

He greeted him with a slight bow and asked:

"Did you have a good flight?"

He nodded and went to the trunk, where he helped put his cases away to make their departure faster.

"It was okay," he replied. "Did you hear anything from Carter regarding the jet? How bad are the repairs that have to be done?"

"He was in contact with your father this morning. As far as I know, I heard them talking on the phone when I was taking the senior Westwood to the office," came the answer that made Xander raise his eyebrows.

"You?" he started. "Is something wrong with my father's driver?"

"Something with his daughter I think," his driver explained while walking around the car, opening the door at the back to let Alexander access the limousine. "I was around anyway, so it was no bother."

Alexander nodded and finally got into the back of the car, sighing when he relaxed his muscles on the soft seats, while the other took his place behind the steering wheel.

"Home?" He asked and raised a brow as Alexander could see through the mirror when he replied with

"No."

"Where to?"

"The Maxwell's are holding a party for their youngest son celebrating his university graduation tonight," he said.

"I should show my face there for a few minutes at least."

"Of course," the driver said. "Do you want me to wait for you to take you home later?"

"That won't be necessary," Xander replied, not knowing when he would be able to leave if something came up at the party, and started to watch the passing buildings and lights while the car made its way through the heavy evening traffic towards their destination.

"Is everything at home in order?" He then asked without stopping to look outside.

"My home, or your home?" The driver asked, making Xander chuckle.

"Both," he replied.

"Your father and his mate had an argument yesterday, but the source of gossip said it was nothing serious," he told him.

"At my home, yeah, everything is okay. We're getting closer and closer to the big day, so it's all a little chaos at the moment, but nothing we can't manage."

Xander nodded again, already knowing that whatever his father and his mate had fought about would be long gone by the time he saw them the next time, as it always was with the pair.

"That's good," he only said, glad to hear that his driver and his mate were also doing well, and returned to silence while seeing something and nothing in the passing street before he pulled his phone out and checked it for new messages, but except for a text from his father reminding him of something and a few work-related emails, nothing interesting had appeared to occupy him.