Page 4 of Sweet Heart for the Bear

“Horace Vanderbilt, I presume,” he says, and his lightly accented voice seems amused.

“That’s me. Can I help you?”

“I wanted to come meet the man who fixed my little problem.”

“What?”

“Date to Mate. The app? It’s mine,” he says, and now I’m nodding.

“I fixed it like five minutes ago. How did you get here so fast?”

“I have my ways, Horace. May I come in?”

Shit. Where were my manners?

“Sure, come in,” I say and step up to give him some room.

“Thank you, but just for a moment. There is a lovely pizzeria opening in the lobby downstairs, and I find myself with a craving,” he says, and my stomach growls.

Pizza always sounds good to a hungry Bear.

“I see I am not the only one with a craving,” he remarks, and I shrug with good humor.

“I’m always up for pizza. But what is it I can do for you, Mr. Stregovich?” I ask because really, I am curious.

“Please, won’t you call me Uncle Uzzi? And I believe it is I who can help you, Horace,” he says and walks into my penthouse, stopping to look at some framed paintings on the wall.

I don’t know what they are or how they got there. The interior decorator I hired when I first bought the place was the likely answer.

“Are you a fan of Klimt?”

“Who?”

“Never mind, dear boy,” he says, and his blue eyes are twinkling. “I wanted to thank you for the fine job you did for me in person. You know, this app took ages to complete. But I fear some are not eager to have me entering the digital age with my service,” he murmurs.

He’s not wrong. The hacker was good.

“I blocked the hacker and reinforced your firewall, Mr.—er, I mean, Uncle Uzzi.”

“Indeed, you have. But there is something else, perhaps we can discuss it over an early lunch?”

“Alright,” I agree, my Bear hyper focused on his earlier mention of pizza.

“Wunderbar!”

“Just give me a second to grab my things.”

Chapter2

Carina

“Oh my freaking gah!I can’t do anything with this piece of crap website already!” I scream into my hands.

“Yo, Carina? Are you alright?” Dina asks.

Dina is short for Geraldine, but she always hates it when we call her that. And our dad’s name was Jerry, so that’s a no go, too.

She’s the sensitive one. Sweet and shy. Nothing like my no nonsense blabbermouth self.

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