Page 6 of Grin and Bear It

“Charlie.” Artair nodded, observing the slight but involuntary bow of Charlie’s head—the instinctive deference most showed to an alpha predator. “How’s Marion’s arthritis? The herbal compress helping?”

Surprise flickered across the doorman’s weathered face. “Right as rain now, sir. She says Elder Willow’s remedy worked wonders. Very kind of you to remember.”

Artair merely nodded again, unwilling to acknowledge the small spark of satisfaction that came from Charlie’s reaction. He remembered everything about his employees—their families, their troubles, their triumphs. Not from any particular benevolence, but because information equaled advantage, and survival required advantage. That the information occasionally allowed him to improve their circumstances was a secondary benefit.

“I heard whispers about another break-in at one of your properties,” Charlie added, his voice dropping to a murmur as he held the door. “Over on Crescent Hill this time.”

Artair’s expression didn’t change, though his bear stirred within, irritated at the territorial violation. “When did word reach you?”

“My nephew works the night shift at Sunrise Diner. Said a couple of wolf shifters from the security company came in around four this morning, talking about strange magic traces at the old observatory.”

“I appreciate the heads-up.” Artair reached into his jacket and produced an envelope. “Your granddaughter’s college tuition, as promised. Second semester.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Mr. Maxen, I can’t?—”

“She earned the scholarship, Charlie. The Maxen Foundation rewards academic excellence.” Artair placed the envelope in the doorman’s hand, brooking no argument. “My grandfather would have approved.”

Before Charlie could protest further, Artair strode into the lobby. Glass, marble, and polished brass surrounded him—an environment designed to impress, to intimidate, to declare the Maxen family’s permanence in Enchanted Falls. Conversations quieted as he passed, employees and visitors alike tracking his movement with cautious eyes.

The private executive elevator responded to his presence without requiring a key card or code—the security system recognized his unique magical signature. As the doors slid closed, Artair allowed himself a moment of stillness, the mask of corporate authority softening briefly into something more contemplative. Three more break-ins within a month, all targeting properties with historical significance to the bear clan.

It couldn’t be coincidence.

The elevator deposited him directly into the executive suite where his assistant, Meredith, waited with her usual brisk efficiency. A hawk shifter in her mid-forties, she possessed both the sharp vision and unflappable composure of her avian counterpart.

“The board assembles in twenty minutes,” she informed him, falling into step beside him. “Your sister called twice already this morning. Something about your grandmother’s dinner plans tonight requiring ‘strategic intervention.’“ She handed him a steaming mug that smelled of rich coffee laced with a hint of honey. “And Mr. Hargrove arrived with three legal advisors.”

SEVEN

Artair took the mug, letting the warmth seep into his palm. “Has Jash made it in yet?”

“In his lab since five, apparently solving the mysteries of the universe with caffeine and sheer stubbornness.” Meredith’s mouth twitched. “He asked me to tell you he’s made a breakthrough with the shifter detection grid.”

“He said that last week,” Artair pointed out, “right before it identified Mrs. Plumthorn as a grizzly bear.”

“In the system’s defense, she does have a rather aggressive energy signature for a magpie shifter.”

This startled a brief chuckle from Artair, the sound so unexpected that two passing employees nearly stumbled in shock. He smothered it quickly, resuming his impassive expression.

“I need everything we have on the Riverfront acquisition before the meeting,” he said, moving toward his office. “And tell Jash I want to see him as soon as the board disperses.”

“Already on your desk,” Meredith confirmed. “And your lunch order includes extra honey today. You’ll need it to sweeten your disposition after dealing with Hargrove.”

Artair paused at his office door. “I don’t have a disposition that needs sweetening.”

“Of course not, sir.” Meredith’s tone remained perfectly professional, betrayed only by the slight quirk of her eyebrow. “That’s why the accounting department draws straws to determine who has to bring you the quarterly reports.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re getting dangerously close to insolence.”

“I prefer to think of it as twenty years of earned perspective.” She handed him a folder with the day’s briefing. “Your first meeting begins in eighteen minutes. The green tie would be better for intimidating Hargrove—it brings out the gold in your eyes when you’re annoyed.”

Before he could respond, his personal phone buzzed. Meredith took advantage of the distraction to retreat to her desk, leaving Artair to enter his office alone.

The text message came from Bryn, accompanied by a selfie of his sister looking comically dismayed in front of what appeared to be their grandmother’s dining room table, elaborately set for a formal dinner.

MAYDAY!!! Grandma’s gone full matchmaker mode! Emily Stoneclaw PLUS her parents tonight. She’s setting up “compatibility stations” around the house. SAVE YOURSELF!

A second message followed immediately:

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