Page 20 of Grin and Bear It

Thora shifted in her chair, the plush leather doing nothing to ease her discomfort. Not physical discomfort—the executive chairs in Maxen Enterprises’ main boardroom cost more than her motorcycle—but the particular discomfort of a sabertooth tiger shifter trapped in a corporate boardroom with nothing to hunt.

The sleek conference table stretched before her like a mahogany runway. Around it sat men and women in tailored suits who occasionally darted curious glances her way between discussing profit margins. Low-hanging lights cast a warm glow over the proceedings, designed to make everything feel intimate and important.

Thora stared at her chipped black nail polish.Four more hours of this torture. The golden tether connecting her to Artair Maxen pulsed gently between them, a constant reminder of her predicament. No more than twenty-four hours of this, and then she could get back to her actual job—tracking down her bounty and escaping this too-quaint shifter town before it sucked her in with its small-town charm.

“—which brings us to the Silver Ridge development projections,” Artair said, commanding the room with his deep voice.

Despite herself, Thora glanced at his profile. The man knew how to work a room. Standing at the head of the table in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that emphasized his broad shoulders, Artair Maxen radiated quiet confidence. His dark hair caught the light when he moved, and his presence filled the space in a way that had nothing to do with his imposing physical size.

A lean man with wire-rimmed glasses at the far end of the table cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Mr. Maxen, these projections seem... overly optimistic.”

The room temperature dropped several degrees. A muscle in Artair’s jaw tightened.

“The infrastructure costs alone would eat twenty percent of our estimated profit margin,” the man continued, “and that’s assuming we don’t encounter the same permitting issues we faced with the Westbrook property.”

“The comparison isn’t relevant, Peterson.” A hint of growl underscored Artair’s controlled tone. “Westbrook involved wetland mitigation that Silver Ridge doesn’t.”

Peterson wasn’t backing down. “Even so, the financial risk is?—”

“Calculated and manageable,” Artair cut in, placing his palms flat on the table and leaning forward slightly.

Something about Peterson’s challenging tone grated on Thora’s nerves. Her fingers curled around the ornate wooden armrests of her chair—a centuries-old antique according to the small plaque on its back. She didn’t care about Maxen Enterprises or their development deals, but the open challenge to Artair’s authority sparked something primal in her sabertooth.

“I’ve reviewed the numbers myself,” Peterson continued, his voice taking on a condescending edge. “And I think we’re looking at a potential loss if the market shifts even slightly.”

Without thinking, Thora dug her nails into the velvet upholstery of the chair’s arm. A soft ripping sound caught her attention, and she glanced down to see her nails—slightly elongated with sabertooth sharpness—had torn five neat slices into the rich burgundy fabric.

Shit. She yanked her hand back. The chair probably cost more than her entire bounty hunting kit.

The woman across from her noticed, blue eyes widening.Just what I needed. More attention.

She braced herself for Artair’s reaction. The chair looked like a museum piece, and she’d treated it like a scratching post.

Instead, a low, appreciative rumble came from his direction. Thora looked up, surprised to find Artair’s dark eyes on her, crinkled slightly at the corners. He should have been annoyed, maybe even angry. Instead, his bear—the powerful animal just beneath his polished exterior—seemed pleased by her reaction.

Their eyes locked for a moment, his gaze carrying an unmistakable message:I noticed you defending me.

The moment stretched, charged with something Thora couldn’t name.

Then Artair turned back to Peterson, new confidence in his posture. One corner of his mouth curled upward. “The Silver Ridge development moves forward as planned. Now, let’s discuss the quarterly projections.”

Thora leaned back, studying Artair with fresh curiosity as he continued the meeting. The bear shifter was more than the corporate suit she’d initially dismissed him as. There was a fierceness beneath his polished exterior that her sabertooth found... intriguing.

TWENTY-TWO

Three hours and four meetings later, Thora’s patience had evaporated completely. The tether linking her to Artair forced her to trail him through Maxen Enterprises headquarters like some kind of corporate plus-one. Every time they entered a new conference room, the whispers started again.

“That’s the sabertooth who tackled him in the square...”

“She’s actually quite pretty for a bounty hunter...”

“Do you think they’re really tethered, or is this some weird mating ritual?”

Thora gritted her teeth and ignored them all. She’d spent her life being whispered about—first as the orphaned shifter child, then as the woman sabertooth in the male-dominated bounty hunting world. Gossip couldn’t touch her.

Still, by the time they reached a mercifully quiet corridor, Thora’s bladder had other priorities besides her reputation.

“I need a bathroom break,” she announced, interrupting Artair’s conversation with a department head.

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