Chapter 7
SEVEN
A rtair 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:
PS - Don’t you dare cancel. If I have to suffer through this, so do you. But I’ve got a plan to run interference. Call me ASAP!!!
Artair sighed, setting the phone aside. His sister’s enthusiastic punctuation gave him a headache, but her warning was timely. Grandma Eira had been increasingly determined to see him properly mated before her “transition to the ancestral plane”—a euphemism for death that she’d adopted with disturbing cheerfulness.
Emily Stoneclaw. He vaguely recalled meeting her at the Winter Solstice celebration—a perfectly pleasant bear shifter from a respected clan, with an appropriately demure manner and absolutely no spark of genuine interest beyond his family name and fortune.
His bear grumbled at the thought, a sensation like distant thunder rolling through his chest. Neither his human side nor his animal had any interest in a mate chosen primarily to satisfy clan politics and his grandmother’s impatience for great-grandchildren.
Pushing these thoughts aside, Artair settled behind his desk and immersed himself in the Riverfront acquisition documents. The proposed development would transform an underutilized section of Enchanted Falls’ waterfront into a mixed-use area with shops, restaurants, and a cultural center dedicated to shifter history. On paper, the project promised significant returns while enhancing the town’s appeal. In reality, it meant navigating the delicate politics of the Elder Council, particularly Selene Moonlace’s concerns about disrupting fae habitats in the riverside willows.