Page 3

Chapter 3

NATE

I sniff the air for the hundredth time that afternoon. Each breath brings a renewed hit of Madeline's glorious scent. It's one I haven't experienced in years, but now I can't get enough of it.

What is wrong with me? I'm never like this.

Having Madeline so close to me will definitely be a problem. I've never been so distracted by anyone before. It's so intense I barely get my work done because I can't concentrate.

I hear steps outside my door. They slow down before picking up the pace again, alerting me that Madeline is walking past. I get up on instinct and head for the door slowly to peek out.

Sure enough, I see her at the end of the hall, just about to enter her aunt's temporary office. She's carrying a stack of files, her posture straight and professional.

Unlike the Madeline I remember, who would have made any excuse to linger near my door, she walks with purpose, completely focused on her task.

I find myself oddly disappointed. Shouldn't I be relieved?

Instead of returning to my desk, I step into the hallway, watching as she enters Cora's office. Through the glass panels, I see her place the files on the desk with neat efficiency.

She says something to her aunt, smiling briefly, then takes a seat and begins working. Not once does she glance my way, though she must know I'm here.

"Boss?" I turn to find Olivia standing nearby with a questioning look.

"Yes?" I respond, perhaps too sharply.

"I have those drafts you asked for." She holds out a folder, her eyes flicking curiously to Cora's office and back to me.

"Right. Thanks." I take the folder, clearing my throat. "Was there something else?"

"No, that's it." She hesitates, then adds, "I met Cora's niece earlier. She seems nice."

"Does she?" I manage to sound disinterested.

Olivia nods. "Very professional. Not what I expected, to be honest."

I raise an eyebrow. "And what did you expect?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. Cora's really intense, so I figured her niece would be similar. But Madeline seems more measured. Reminds me of those calm, strategic types."

"Hmm." I glance toward the glass office. Madeline is still focused on her work, seemingly oblivious to our conversation about her. "We'll see."

I return to my office, closing the door firmly behind me. But instead of reviewing Olivia's drafts, I find myself staring at the wall, my thoughts circling back to Madeline.

This isn't the girl I ran from. She's changed, or at least she's pretending she has. Her controlled demeanor is more disconcerting than if she'd thrown herself at me again. At least then I'd know how to react.

Maybe she really is just here for the internship. The thought shouldn't bother me, but it does.

A knock at my door breaks my reverie. "Come in," I call, quickly arranging Olivia's drafts to look busy.

Graham's large frame fills the doorway. "Hey, do you have time to look over the Wilson contract today?"

"Yeah, sure."

He steps inside, closing the door. "So," he says, his tone shifting to something more personal, "word around the office is that Cora's niece is your mate."

I freeze. "Who told you that?"

"No one had to tell me," he says with a laugh. "I saw the way you looked at her in the hall. Plus, I'm guessing that's why you've been more distracted than usual."

"I'm not distracted."

Graham raises an eyebrow. "You have your drafts upside down."

I glance down and curse, flipping the folder. "Fine. Yes, she's my mate. But it's not what you think."

"And what do I think?" He leans against my desk, crossing his arms.

"That there's something between us. There isn't. We met years ago, briefly. The bond formed, but it didn't work out."

"So you ran," Graham concludes.

I look up sharply. "I didn't run. I left because we weren't compatible."

"Right," the skepticism in his voice is unmistakable.

"I'm serious, Graham. She was clingy. Possessive. Jealous. Wanted to get married right away." I shake my head at the memory. "I couldn't handle it."

"And now she's here."

"Apparently."

Graham studies me for a moment. "She seems different than you described. Professional, focused."

"People can pretend to be whatever they want," I note. "But eventually, the real person comes out."

"Maybe," Graham concedes. "Or maybe she grew up. It happens, you know."

I don't have a response for that.

"Anyway," he continues, pushing off from my desk, "Wilson contract by end of day?"

"I'll have it done."

After Graham leaves, I try to focus on my work, but my thoughts continue to drift. Through my open blinds, I catch glimpses of Madeline moving around Cora's temporary office.

Each time I notice something new—the grace of her movements, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear in concentration, the quiet competence she exudes.

Not once does she look my way, despite the clear visibility between our offices. By the afternoon, I've had enough.

I have no reason to go to Cora's office, but I find myself heading there anyway, a flimsy excuse about the Hamilton case ready to explain.

I knock on the frosted glass door, pushing it open when Cora calls, "Come in."

Both women look up as I enter. Cora isn’t surprised, almost amused. Madeline's is politely curious, but otherwise unreadable.

"Nate," Cora acknowledges. "What can I do for you?"

"I want to discuss the Hamilton brief," I say, my eyes drifting to Madeline despite my best efforts. "If you have a moment."

"I'm afraid I don't," Cora replies. " Madeline’s been handling the research on that case. Perhaps she can help you."

Madeline looks to her aunt, then back to me. "Of course," she says, her voice professional but warm. "What do you need to know?"

I hadn't prepared a specific question. "I wonder if we’re setting a precedent for the third claim."

She nods, turning to her laptop and pulling up a document. "I can show you what I've found."

I move closer, standing behind her chair to look at her screen. Her scent envelops me, making it hard to concentrate on what she's saying.

“These three cases provide the strongest support," she explains, pointing to a section of text, "especially Morgan v. Ellison, which established the standard we're arguing."

I lean in, pretending to study the screen while actually watching the curve of her neck, the way her pulse flutters just beneath her skin.

"Does that answer your question?" she turns to look at me, unexpectedly close.

"Yes," I manage. "That's helpful."

Our eyes lock for a moment, and I feel that familiar pull stronger than ever. But unlike before, she doesn't press the advantage. Instead, she smiles politely and turns back to her laptop.

"I can email you the full research notes if you'd like," she offers.

"That would be great," I reply, oddly disappointed by her professional response.

I straighten, looking to Cora, who's been watching our interaction with undisguised interest. "Thanks for your help," I tell Madeline, "I should get back to my office."

"Anytime," she replies, and I can't tell if there's a double meaning there or not.

As I turn to leave, Cora calls after me, "Maintenance should be finished in my office by tomorrow. We'll be out of your hair then."

"No problem," I respond automatically. In truth, the thought of Madeline moving further away bothers me more than it should.

Back in my office, I close the door and lean against it, taking deep breaths to clear my head. What is wrong with me? I'd spent years convinced I'd made the right choice by leaving. Now, after just one day around her, I'm questioning everything.

This is just the bond, I tell myself. It's biology, not real connection.

But if that's true, why does this Madeline—calm, competent, self-assured—intrigue me more than the adoring girl who once declared I was her entire world? I shake my head to dispel these thoughts.

I have work to do; I need to focus and remember why I left in the first place. I vow silently there’s no way she’s changed.

As I sit at my desk, I can't help glancing through my blinds at the glass office across the hall, where Madeline has already returned to work, seemingly unaffected by our interaction.

I head down the quiet hallway, the sound of my footsteps echoing on the polished floor.

I rake a hand through my hair as I reach Graham’s door, then knock once and push it open without waiting for an answer.

He looks up from behind his desk, brow raised like he’s already expecting trouble.

“Got a minute?” I ask, my voice lower than usual.

“Depends,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “You actually planning to talk this time, or just stare through me again like I’m furniture?”

I step inside and shut the door behind me. “That obvious, huh?”

“Only to someone with eyes.” He gestures to the seat across from him. “Sit, talk. What’s going on?”

I stay on my feet, arms crossed. “I need to ask you something. And I need you to be honest with me.”

His humor fades instantly. Graham might joke, but he knows when to shut it off. “Alright,” he says carefully. “Shoot.”

I hesitate. It’s not like me, but nothing about the last few days has felt like me. “Do you think you can cover for me for a few days?”

“This isn’t a good time, you know that.”

“I know.”

Graham leans forward, elbows on the desk. “Are you okay?”

“What do you—of course, I'm fine.”

“You are? Why didn't you answer your email then?” he asks knowingly.

“What email?”

“You're kidding, right?” Graham chuckles. “The mighty Nate Barlow didn't check his emails? Is the sky falling, too?”

I let out a short breath. “Look, my head hasn't really been in the game all day. What was the email about?”

“Grant sent word that there may be a hunter attack soon.”

“Where? Here?” I ask, with anger toward the enemy.

“No, but close. Just a few towns away. He's trying to gather forces there, and they look like they may have the numbers.”

“Are you sure?” Guilt begins to grow within me. How could I have missed something so important?

“Yeah, I'm positive,” Graham affirms. “At most, we're dealing with a small group of hunters. If everyone is aware and stays on guard, we should be okay. The alpha just wanted us to stay on alert just in case our services are needed. You never know.”

“Okay. You're right, though. We have the numbers and the advantage of organization. As long as we stay on top of things, it'll be fine.”

Graham still seems concerned and amused. “So your wolf is driving you mad?”

I try my best not to sigh. “There's nothing to talk about.”

“Come on, that's not true. I can tell there's a lot on your mind. Fill me in, please.”

“Graham, I—” a knock interrupts us.

“Who is it?” Graham calls out.

“Madeline, Cora's intern.”

“Shit, wait, don't—”

“Come in,” Graham says before I can finish.

I watch in a panic as the door opens slowly.