The Billionbear's Bride: BBW Bear Shifter BWWM Paranormal Romance by Zoe Chant Page A

himself—when he realized the door was ajar. Had someone come in here? With a frown, he pushed it open further to investigate and flipped on the light.
    There was something on his bed. Drawing closer, he realized that a bunch of papers and photographs were spread out on top of his bedspread. A feeling of foreboding rose up inside of him. He hadn’t left any of the wedding photos out, he knew; he’d shown them to family and then put them away safely.
    There were several large photographs strewn across the bed—photographs of him. He didn’t recognize any of them. But there they were, glossy and taunting: him in his suit, shaking someone’s hand; him at home, taken from outside the house. They looked like they were from a distance, like they were shot by someone following him.
    A chill went through him when he spotted Violet among the pictures. And not just with him: the photographer had zeroed in on her, too. In one of the pictures, he recognized the dress she had been wearing at their very first meeting.
    Someone had been following him.
    He began to gather up all the photos and rifle through them with growing horror. In some of the pictures Violet was alone and in outfits he didn’t recognize—the stalker must have been following her when Bruce wasn’t there. She had been exposed, vulnerable, and Bruce hadn’t been there to protect her—
    Was there some kind of message? He flipped through the pictures again, but found nothing. His frustration mounted.
    “Bruce, is everything okay? I was asking where you wanted to put the—“
    Violet’s voice came from the doorway. He had been so focused on the pictures he hadn’t even heard her approach.
    Too late he tried to hide the photos from her, but she wouldn’t be deterred.
    “What are those?”
    “Photos.” He tried to look nonchalant, but she saw right through that charade.
    “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she observed, drawing nearer.
    Reluctantly he showed them to her. “I found these when I came in.”
    Chewing on her lip, she glanced through them. Concern darkened her brow. “Someone at the party left them, maybe?”
    But there was studied doubt in her voice, like she knew the truth lay somewhere else, somewhere more sinister, but she didn’t want to admit it.
    “I don’t know who took them. But I’m going to find out.”
    “Are these supposed to scare us?” Her voice, though defiant in tone, trembled on the last word. Bruce’s heart swelled. His brave, beautiful mate.
    “There’s no note,” he said. “At least not that I’ve found.”
    “Whatever these are, we won’t be intimidated.” Violet set the stack of photos face-down on the bed—and then they both saw it.
    In permanent marker there were words scrawled across the back of the photo.
    “That doesn’t make sense,” said Bruce slowly, and it began to dawn on him. He spread out the photographs face-down; each had words written on the back. Individually they didn’t make any sense, but he and Violet rearranged them until they spelled out a coherent message:
    You think you can just move on with your pretty little wife? Buddy, have I got news for you. You're going to pay for what you’ve done.
    “Oh my God,” she said faintly. “How did they get in the house to leave these? Is it—could it be someone from your family?”
    “It’s not my family,” he said grimly. The words stared back at him: Buddy, have I got news for you . “I know who it is.”
    “This sounds like a story I need to be sitting down for,” she joked weakly, and he smiled briefly.
    “In college, I was friends with a guy named Jim. We’ve— we’d —been friends for fifteen years. I’m an inventor at heart, not a businessman; that was Jim's job. Or at least it was Jim's job.”
    Violet squeezed his hand encouragingly.
    “When I came up with an idea for an improved food processor, Jim had jumped on it, insisting we go into business together. As a team we worked well for years—me as the