I nodded, not sure if this was some kind of milestone for us.
“You can also answer me when I speak to you.”
“Women are supposed to be seen, not heard, as they say,” I replied with a slight smile. He only gave me a look wearily. “That’s a joke.”
“If you’d like to be a woman who’s seen and not heard, you can find a new job.”
“Right. It’s really just a…” remember that note to self you just made? “I’ll get right to this project.”
I dropped off the paperwork and moved to remake the tea. Though he’d admittedly been about as critical as he’d been before, he didn’t seem as cold. I felt we’d jumped over some kind of hurdle in our professional relationship.
He showed a sense of vulnerability I hadn’t yet seen. The masochist inside me argued that maybe he was warming to me, and also he looked incredibly hot when so weary.
This made things slightly awkward when I delivered his new tea. He was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed - he almost appeared asleep. His five o’clock shadow looked more prominent, while his hands seemed hairier. I set down the tea and tried to inch out of the room.
“I’d like to not be disturbed for the rest of the day,” he said.
“Okay.”
He grabbed the tea, took a drink, gave me a look, and then closed his eyes again. I nodded awkwardly (as I usually did when leaving his office) and went back to my desk.
The task he provided was quite difficult. I’d worked at a newspaper in college, so I was able to transcribe pretty well, but it took me quite a while.
Without making tea the next day while he was out, I was able to start back up, uninterrupted. The thing was, I didn’t understand why he cared so much about bears.
In Mr. Mathan’s - excuse me, Oliver’s research - he noted a supposed curse in Ireland from the fairies that turned humans into bears on the third Friday of the month. Although it seemed completely unrealistic, I looked into the curse, and it seemed to represent him almost exactly.
That auburn hair, the cool eyes, the bone structure (maybe I added that) all seemed to symbolize him. Of course, by the next day he was out of the office so I couldn’t ask, but it seemed like him.
But what rich guy turns into a bear? That was ridiculous.
I finished the task on Friday around the end of the day. I waited for Vance to appear to ask if the third Friday of the month was a good day to bring work by, but he never appeared.
I decided that I’d take the report back to Oliver’s house after work. I checked over it after I got home, but it seemed perfect. I drove slowly, feeling especially nervous, but I built myself up as I walked to his door. I knocked twice as instructed in the directions he provided.
He didn’t answer.
I knocked again, but no luck. In the back of his house, I heard a noise. I investigated, to see if he were the one making noise, and noticed a figure that resembled him.
I followed the figure into the bush behind his house and watched from a bush (just in case.) The figure transformed from a man to a stooped creature under the light of the moon. I felt as though I should run, but I wanted to know the nature of the creature: a bear. It appeared to be a bear.
Was he one of the individuals cursed by the Irish fairies to transform into a bear?
Had I just imagined it all?
Was I perhaps delirious from the thought that my incredibly handsome boss, Mr. Oliver Mathan, had paid me some sort of attention that I’d never experienced from him before?
Whatever it was, I ran as fast as I could back to my car. Unfortunately, I fell and hit my head on the ground.
I looked ahead, trying to crawl forward to where my car may be. The surroundings started to appear dark, spinning, when I took a moment to breathe. Before I knew it, I blacked out before I could speed away home.
IV.
The world around me opened to a blurry strangeness, a log enclosure (perhaps a cabin?) with the warmth of a fire - something I hadn’t grown up with in the city.
I wondered if I was dreaming. I’d always imagined having a family getaway with my parents before my mother died - though I stopped imagining it when I was nineteen, and my father died too. Perhaps I had died. I hit my head, and my brain decided to just lie down and die.
I closed my eyes, thinking this would guide me to the other side.
“Lorelai… Ms. Tanner… are you awake?” a familiar male voice asked.
I didn’t want to open my eyes. I didn’t want to be dead.
A swift, but gentle, hand slapped me on the face, “Lorelai?”
I opened my eyes to the cold blue of Oliver Mathan. “What is going on?”
“What were you doing here?” his cool voice asked.
“I was delivering the bear report,” I responded. “I was told to bring it as soon as I could.”
“Didn’t Vance tell you that the third Friday of the month didn’t count?”
“He didn’t come by for me to ask.”
“Naturally, he didn’t have anything to stare at.”
I nearly fully woke up, my eyes widening to my surroundings. “What is going on?”
He leaned in close to me, his breath smelling of clover and mint, “That’s what I’d like to know.”
I tried to free my arms, but my arms wouldn’t budge. My hands were tied to the chair I sat in. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t escape. For all the awful jobs I’d had before, I never felt so scared.
“You can’t kidnap me.” I said. “I didn’t see anything.”
“You saw a man transform into a bear, did you not?”
“I don’t know. I… don’t know.”
“Don’t lie to me. You know what’s going on."
“I don’t know what’s going on. I’ve never had a boss kidnap me before. I quit, by the way.”
“You’ll need to give me your two weeks’ notice in writing.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll just do that with my hands that are tied.”
He sighed and started to pace, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“I don’t either.”
“All right, look. I’ll call my lawyer…”
“That sounds like a great idea.”
He stopped pacing and gave me his trademark look. “I will call my lawyer and have him write up a non-disclosure agreement. Once he gets that written up, you may go. I will pay you for your time here, as well as for your silence. Does that sound acceptable?”
“Why do I have to stay here? I’m not going to tell anyone. I have no one to tell.”
“It’s just a security measure.”
“This is crazy! I can’t believe this is happening to me right now! By the way, shouldn’t I see a doctor or something since I was knocked unconscious?”
“I’m a doctor.” This time I gave him a look. “I went to medical school, I just decided I’d rather go into business than be a doctor. The job was too sad.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I replied. “Well, if I’m going to stay here, can you at least untie me?”
“Do you agree to stay here until my lawyer can get me the non-disclosure agreement?”
“Yes.”
“Then I can untie you.” He moved around the chair to untie me.
“I’m still quitting.”
“I understand.” He finished untying me. “It’s too bad, you’ve been doing a great job.”
I attempted to stand, but the move made me dizzy. “You sure had me fooled then with all the criticism you had.”
“I like things a particular way. Would you like some breakfast?”
I shrugged. He nodded and moved to the kitchen. The cabin had a nice, updated open concept. In other circumstances, this would be a very enjoyable short vacation. I guess the brighter side is I probably won’t have to work again since, you know, I’ll be paid off. It could be worse.
I rose slowly, this time able to make it (though my head was killing me.) On the fireplace mantle were several family pictures, seemingly of Mr. Mathan
and his parents, he and his brother, his parents on their wedding day.
He looked alarmingly like his father, though it appeared he got the cold look from his mother. Each picture - besides the wedding portrait - looked to be in a green, hilly area. Perhaps Ireland, as his accent suggests.
“How do you like your eggs?” he asked.
“Scrambled,” I replied. “You have a lot of pictures of your family.”
“My parents still live in the old country, so I like to keep reminders of them.”
“Your brother too?”
“He’s my lawyer. He lives across town. We moved here together. Do you have any siblings?” he turned to me. “Do you eat meat?”
“I do eat meat, and I did have a brother.”
“Did?” he asked, turning away to flip the bacon he’d started.
“He and my dad died in a car accident when I was nineteen.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“That’s life. My mom died of cancer when I was a kid, so it was just another thing.”
He turned back toward me and nodded. I took a better look at him (since I was no longer tied up and terrified), and he looked even more weary than the last time I’d seen him.
His stubble had receded, but his five o’clock shadow was still prominent. His eyes didn’t have the same intensity (though they were, admittedly, still gorgeous), and he just seemed generally less defensive. His guard was let down now that I knew his secret.
“I’m going to go call my brother,” he said. “Flip the bacon so it doesn’t burn. I haven’t talked to him in a while.”
I nodded. He nodded in return, too tired to say anything else, and left the room. This is definitely not how I planned to spend my weekend.
V.
Mr. Mathan’s lawyer/brother said he would have the paperwork ready by the next Monday. He had some other business to attend to. Mr. Mathan seemed a little annoyed by this, but I figured that was just his natural demeanor.
He set up a way to work from home so that he could make sure I was comfortable/couldn’t escape.
I wondered if someone would notice I was gone, but I rarely talked to my neighbors, and the few friends I had could do without talking to me for a week.
They had their own lives, so we usually didn’t talk everyday anyway. In the realization that no one would be considered I was missing, I saw myself as a mummified corpse when I died, an old loner who isn’t discovered for months and months.
This depressed me. I decided when I got home I would invest in having more solid relationships or maybe just some loud cats. Either would work.
Mr. Mathan looked over the report I’d finished for him in silence as I contemplated my lack of impact. Since I’d put in my resignation verbally, I no longer cared about his criticism.
“I’m surprised you got this done so quickly,” he said, perhaps to simply clear the silent air.
“Yep,” I responded. “Silly me, getting it done quickly and bringing it by as you asked. Should’ve figured I’d be kidnapped.”
“You’re funny,” he responded blandly. “It’s very well-done. I haven’t seen any mistakes yet.”
“I’m sure you’re on the look-out.”
“Yes, I am. I’m trying to get funding for an important project. It has to be perfect.”
“I was wondering while I was writing it why you cared so much about bears, but now it makes sense.”
“Right,” he looked up only briefly. Spending more time with him, I noticed his looks were less harsh, and a larger part of me started to warm to him. “It is more or less because of the curse. If I save a bear’s life, the curse will be lifted.”
“How does one even get cursed? And with that, get cursed with becoming a bear? I mean, I thought people traditionally transformed into wolves or bats or… you know, something a bit more terrifying.”
“Well, bears have been extinct in Ireland for a long time. One of my ancestors saw a bear - which was odd to him - and killed it. The bear was actually a fairy trick, so they cursed him. I guess they were still mad about the bear extinction. So, if one of us saved a bear’s life, the curse would be lifted.”
“I assume you haven’t been trolling the woods for bears in distress?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Hmm, you aren’t trying too hard to lift that curse then, huh?”
He looked up at me and leaned back in his seat, “My plan will save thousands, if not more, bears. I’m doing okay.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Mathan.”
“It’s Oliver, Ms. Tanner.”
“I’m really just kidding,” I sighed, the wordplay no longer being fun. “This is weird. This is so weird.”
“How so?”
“We’re just leisurely talking about you turning into a bear as though I’m just a visitor here when I’m a captive.”
He leaned on his arm, “Admittedly, this is not the most desirable situation. I would’ve hoped we’d have gotten to know each other, and you would be here on your own free will.”
“Like a little romantic vacation,” I chuckled.
“Yes, I suppose so. I usually come to my cabin for fun rather than imprisonment.”
I didn’t know what to say. Mr. Mathan… Oliver struck me as a no-nonsense personality - almost to a fault. He never laughed at my jokes (but that may be the joker rather than the joke, if that made sense), and he had an uncompromising eye for detail. Though he was probably the handsomest man I’d ever seen, I hadn’t considered him as a romantic being.
He laughed, “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost! I didn’t mean to scare you, Lorelai.”
“I just never… um… considered….”
“I’m sorry to make things uncomfortable for you,” he laughed again. “You’re a very intelligent, funny, and strong woman. Those traits alone make you attractive. Beyond that, you’re beautiful. Disarmingly so.”
Those eyes of his showed the same intensity, but also a vulnerability. They mesmerized me, leaving me speechless.
Part of me wanted to just stand up and have my way with him, but that was both too forward and a terrible decision.
He’d kidnapped me, after all. That does not make a man an attractive partner.
“Thank you for your compliments,” I responded, after some time. “You know that you’re incredibly handsome…”
“I don’t know that.”
“You own a mirror, don’t even, Mr. Mathan.”
“Oliver.”
“Your critical contrarian personality just… it makes you undesirable, Oliver,” I said, looking him straight in the eye.
“You’re right. It’s a…” he paused, “defense mechanism. This curse makes me unable to pursue true relationships, so I just push people away. There’s a reason why only Vance and my personal secretary work in the same office as I do. I am difficult.”
“Well, at least you know that, I guess.”
He smiled, “There is that.”
He picked up the report again and continued reading in silence. Although I felt cruel for confronting him, it cleared the air between us. Though the situation was not the best, his honesty and self awareness made the part of me that liked him grow.
VI.
Oliver often worked during the day - holding his meetings and having paperwork faxed in or emailed - since he was out of the office. He had time to make me breakfast each morning, though he didn’t have his tea.
I felt, as the kidnap victim, that I shouldn’t have to make him his tea; furthermore, he was no longer my boss.
Yet, as the days went on, I enjoyed his company more and more. He softened up, actually starting to laugh at my jokes and not take everything so seriously.
For example, he had some women’s clothes in one of the rooms for me to change into. They surprisingly fit very well.
“Do you actually just enjoy kidnapping girls my size, and then you collect their things as strange souvenirs?” I asked.
“You caught me,” he answered. “My
sister-in-law also keeps clothes here for when they visit. She appreciates the collection, anyway.”
Not only did he play along, but he made his own off-color joke. In the few days we’d spent together, we’d become closer. He spoke of his parents’ farm in Ireland, and how he missed his mother’s “admittedly bland” cooking.
I told him more about the deaths of my parents and brother, and how I nearly dropped out of college from the depression.
My story was quite a bit sadder than his, but he sat and listened without even a shred of condescension in his beautiful eyes.
On the next Friday, he asked if I wanted to go on a walk with him in the woods. My mind raced, thinking he may actually just murder me and bury me out in the wilderness, but I figured I’d give him a chance. We walked leisurely with Oliver acting as a nature guide.
He knew an alarming amount about the local ecosystem around his cabin. With the sun shining down on us through the trees, the walk seemed ethereal - like a Disney film, except the forest animals weren’t dancing around us or singing the song of our love story. They mostly just avoided us, as wild animals do.
“I am sorry I kept you here,” he said as we walked back.
“It may be the Stockholm Syndrome, but I’ve actually enjoyed it,” I replied. “It was a nice change of pace.”
He chuckled, “It probably is the Stockholm Syndrome. I’ve completely brainwashed you.”
“I think so,” I smiled, getting close enough to brush his hand with mine.
He took the initiative and grasped my hand. My insides started to spin - I wondered if I should keep my resolve and pull away, but it felt natural. My hand fit perfectly in his, as though it belonged there. Perhaps the birds had been singing for us after all (or were squawking because we were too near their nests.)
“Perhaps when this is all over, I can take you out on your own terms,” he said softly.
“I think I’d like that,” I responded.
Back at the cabin, he searched through his pockets for the keys. I wanted to tease him for locking the door in the middle of nowhere, but being so close to him, to his lips, made me bold in a different way. He looked up with the key and smiled. I placed my hands on either side of his face, reached with my tiptoes slightly to reach his height, and leaned in to kiss him.
Romance: Bearilicious: BBW Paranormal Bear Shifter Romance Collection (Werebear, Bear Shifter, BBW Paranormal Romance) Page 7