Chapter 73
SEVENTY-THREE
T he security planning meeting stretched through the morning and into lunch. Seated around the conference table at Maxen Corp headquarters, Thora found her attention drifting from the blueprints spread before them to Artair’s hands as he pointed out potential vulnerabilities. Strong, capable hands that had cared for her so gently during her recovery—the same hands that had trembled with barely contained emotion when she first regained consciousness.
“If we angle the cameras here,” she suggested, leaning forward to indicate a blind spot on the diagram, “coverage improves without adding equipment costs.”
Her shoulder pressed against Artair’s as they examined the plans. The contact—casual, unforced—would have made her tense with wariness a month ago. Now it grounded her, a physical anchor that satisfied some newly awakened need inside her.
“But increases power consumption,” Jash countered, pushing his glasses up his nose. “The electrical grid?—”
“Can handle it,” Artair interjected. “I’d rather spend more on electricity than explain to insurance why someone walked off with the Beryl Collection.”
Thora nodded in agreement, her hand coming to rest on his forearm without conscious thought. She caught Bryn’s knowing smile from across the table and realized how naturally she’d begun initiating such touches. The most surprising part wasn’t the action itself but how right it felt—like her body had recognized what her mind had been slow to accept.
“We need to review the motion sensors by the east entrance,” Jash continued, flipping through his tablet. “The sensitivity needs calibration after last week’s false alarm.”
“I’ll check them,” Thora offered, straightening. “I need to get back in the field anyway.”
Artair’s concern pulsed between them, though he voiced no objection. Instead, his hand found hers under the table, a gentle squeeze conveying both support and caution.
“Tomorrow,” he suggested. “After Willow’s final check.”
She intertwined her fingers with his, the gesture surprisingly intimate despite its simplicity. “Tomorrow,” she agreed.
The meeting broke for lunch with Bryn producing sandwiches from a local café. As the others discussed security protocols, Bryn slid into the chair beside Thora.
“So,” she began, honey-blonde hair bouncing as she unwrapped her sandwich, “when’s the housewarming?”
Thora blinked. “Housewarming?”
“For your new place,” Bryn elaborated. “You must have found something by now, right? Your temporary stay at the cabin has been, what, three weeks?”
An unexpected tightness gripped Thora’s chest. She hadn’t thought about moving out recently—hadn’t wanted to think about it. The cabin had become... comfortable. Safe. But she couldn’t impose on Artair indefinitely, couldn’t assume her presence was welcome beyond her recovery.
“I haven’t really looked,” she admitted, aware of Artair’s sudden stillness beside her. “Been focused on healing.”
“Well, there’s no rush,” Bryn said brightly, though her eyes darted between Thora and her brother. “You’re welcome at the cabin as long as you need.”
An awkward silence descended. Thora studied her sandwich, appetite suddenly diminished.
“Actually,” Artair said, his voice carefully neutral, “I was hoping you might stay.”
Thora looked up, meeting his gaze across the table. “Stay?”
“At the cabin.” His expression remained composed, but she caught the slight tension in his shoulders, the careful way he chose his words. “Permanently.”
The room seemed to fade around them, narrowing to just this moment, this conversation.
“I’m not sure where I’m going next,” she said slowly, testing the waters. “Haven’t decided.”
“Stay with me.” His voice dropped, meant for her ears alone despite their audience. “Not as a guest. As a partner. I want to share my home with you, Thora. My cabin, my life...” He paused, swallowing visibly. “My heart.”
The simple sincerity in his voice stole her breath. Three months ago, such a declaration would have sent her running for the nearest exit, bags packed and motorcycle revving. Now she found herself leaning toward him, drawn by something deeper than physical attraction.
“You’d get tired of me,” she said, the words lacking conviction.
“Never.” His hand found hers across the table, warm and steady. “I love you, Thora Halliwell. I want to build a life with you.”
The truth of her own feelings welled up inside her, no longer frightening but liberating. “I love you too,” she said, the words coming easier than she’d expected. “And I want that too—a life together.”
His smile—brilliant, unguarded—warmed her from the inside out. Across the table, Bryn made a sound suspiciously like a suppressed squeal of delight.
“Oh, don’t mind me,” she said when they both turned to look at her. “Just witnessing a historic moment in Maxen family stubbornness.”
Jash cleared his throat. “Should we, uh, continue the meeting? Or take a break for...” He gestured vaguely between Thora and Artair, “life-altering decisions?”
Thora laughed, the sound bubbling up from a place of genuine joy. “The security system can wait five minutes.”
She stood, circling the table to where Artair sat. Without hesitation, she bent down and kissed him—a public display of affection that would have been unthinkable weeks ago. His response was immediate, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head as he returned the kiss with equal fervor.
When they separated, his eyes had darkened to smoky amber. “Five minutes might not be enough,” he murmured, voice pitched for her ears alone.
Heat rushed through her at the promise in his gaze. “Later,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his ear. “I plan to thoroughly christen our home tonight.”
The flash of desire that crossed his face sent a thrill of feminine power through her. This ability to affect him so profoundly, to make the controlled alpha bear lose his composure with just a whispered promise—it intoxicated her.
“Back to work,” she announced, returning to her seat with a satisfied smile. “We have security systems to design.”
Though they returned to business discussions, an electric current hummed between them for the remainder of the meeting—anticipation, joy, and a newly acknowledged future together shimmering in every shared glance.