Page 8 of Fated Mates and How to Seduce Them
Benedict cleared his throat. “You’re set on this course?”
“I am.”
“All right, then I can give you some advice.”
André sat up straighter, all ears. Benedict’s advice was always spot on.
“You may have come on a little too strong at first. Take a step back, try to establish a connection with him. First, find things in common with him. You both like cats, which is a good first step. Second, figure out what’s important to him. If you invest in it or protect it, then he’ll warm up to you. It will also give you an excuse to spend time with him.”
André could easily do this. Some of Ian’s posts were good indications of where he invested his time.
“Sure, that sounds good in…theory…” Felix paused, and one could see the light bulb go off. He twisted sharply to look up at Benedict. “Wait. You did that with me!”
“That’s how I know it works,” Benedict drawled. “André, you’ve got this. Take it one step at a time instead of coming in like a tsunami.”
His big brother was the best. André beamed at him. “Yeah. I think I know just what to do next.”
Chapter 3
Despite the fact they shared a Gen Ed class, André couldn’t seem to catch Ian. At all. Ian would lurk until the last second, slip into class, and then the moment the professor released them, would be out the door again. He was openly avoiding André.
Which was hurtful.
Also annoying. How was André supposed to win this man over if he couldn’t catch him? Not even to give him a cup of coffee?
Every day over the past week, he’d tried a few different tactics, but short of hounding the man at work—which seemed a one-way ticket to a restraining order—he didn’t know how else to catch Ian.
Time to do some research.
It didn’t take more than thirty minutes of going through Ian’s Facebook to figure out he spent a lot of time volunteering at a particular place: Second Sun, a private group home located on the outskirts of Minneapolis, in some place called…Becker? André checked Google Maps and discovered it was a small town north of the city.
Find something important to him: check.
André Googled the group home. There was no website, which said something right there, and Google images didn’t show a good picture of the property. From the one picture on Google Maps, he saw a single building off a gravel road, and it looked like it needed renovations thirty years ago. Definitely a new roof ten years ago. Shabby would have been a kind way of putting the conditions. Honestly, it appalled him to think of children living there. It didn’t seem like prime or safe conditions to him. Not at all.
But why here? André didn’t understand it, but Ian had connections to this place somehow.
Which meant André needed to as well.
André’s parents firmly believed no one should hoard wealth. He’d been taught at a young age the more you had, the more responsibility you held to your community. His family participated in several charities, and both Benedict and André were responsible for finding their own and managing them. Technically, André had an event he oversaw once a year, but it didn’t use even a third of his charity budget.
Having worked with kids and charities a lot growing up, André knew the American foster care system was underfunded and supplies were stretched to the absolute limit. But this? This was bad. He felt a pang of sympathy from the pictures alone.
One look at the group home, and he knew the perfect place where the money could go. Even if it didn’t land him a chance to talk with Ian, he’d feel guilty as hell if he didn’t at least fix the building, so yeah.
Really, this was two birds with one stone. He’d been looking for another cause to support ever since returning to America for college, so Ian could hardly question his intentions. Well, he might, but André would have a perfect reason to hand him if he asked.
First, though, he had to convince whoever ran the place to let him help.
André had charm, money, and his father’s name on his side. He didn’t think this would take more than five minutes, but it was best done in person.
Saturday morning, he got up early and dressed in dark wash jeans and a rich cobalt shirt he knew looked good on him. He’d prepared the necessary documents the previous day, and he had his black card with him. If he needed anything else, well, he could always call home or come back to fetch it. Right now, he had only a vague idea of what he was walking into. Hard to prepare for every eventuality.
It took a little under an hour to reach the group home. André cranked the radio, singing merrily along as he bypassed the city, exchanging it for suburbs and finally going into the truly small towns. Damn, he was in the boonies, no question there. Pretty out here, though, the area rich with fields and trees. Mostly trees. Sometimes a house.
He had to leave the main highway for a narrow two-lane that needed to be repaved, and then again for a much narrower gravel road. Good thing he’d taken the precaution of taking the family’s SUV instead of his sports car. The car wouldn’t have handled this road well.
He hit a particularly deep pothole and winced.
