Page 9

Chapter 9

NATE

My eyes move from the locked door to Madeline's face. Her expression is thoughtful as I watch her, a far cry from the impulsive girl I once knew.

I spin my chair around and stare out the windows behind me, reminding myself that air's still coming into the room. My senses are too overwhelmed by her scent to think straight.

"What do you want to talk about?" I ask.

"I think we need to be honest with each other," she says, her voice calm. "About what happened at the hotel."

I turn my chair back slowly. Madeline has taken a seat across from me, her posture relaxed yet dignified. There's no attempt to seduce or manipulate—just an open, straightforward request for conversation.

"What's there to talk about?" I ask, though I know perfectly well what she means.

"I just want to understand where we stand, Nate," she says. "We can pretend that night didn't happen, but we both know it did. And it meant something—at least to me."

I try my best to maintain my composure, though every part of me wants to cross the distance between us. "We can't keep doing this, Madeline. I already told you there's nothing for us to continue."

She sighs softly, her expression more resigned than hurt. A heavy silence follows, suffocating me and forcing me to talk.

"Whatever you haven't done yet is fine. I'll do it tomorrow. I'm sure you'll be back to working with your aunt now."

"This isn't about work," she says quietly. "And I'm not trying to pressure you into anything. I just ..." She pauses, gathering her thoughts. "I just thought we deserved some clarity."

"Madeline—"

"You don't owe me anything," she continues. "If you truly want me to keep my distance, I will. I respect your boundaries from now on."

Her point now isn't lost on me—a gentle acknowledgment of how things were different years ago. How she was different.

"I'm not going anywhere," I assure her. "I don't mind you being here but we have to keep our distance from each other. It's not good for either of us."

"Because of the bond?" she asks. "Because every time we're near each other, it feels impossible to ignore?" Her directness catches me off guard. No games, no manipulation—just honesty.

"There are no feelings," I reiterate. "I already told you that the sex between us was just that."

"I understand," she says, rising from her chair. "Thank you for being honest."

She moves toward the door, and panic suddenly rises in my chest. No, don't go. Not like this. "Why did you come here?" I ask, the question bursting from me before I can stop it.

She turns back, her hand on the doorknob. "To this office today, or to this city in general?"

"Both. You could have left your pack and gone anywhere else, but you chose not only to come to my city, but also to where I work."

"I came for a few reasons," she admits. "Yes, you were one of them. But I also came because my aunt is one of the best lawyers in her field, and I genuinely want to learn from her." She meets my gaze steadily. "I know you might not believe this, but I've built a life for myself that doesn't revolve around finding a mate. Law school, my friendships—they matter to me."

My jaw tenses, struck by the sincerity in her words. This isn't the desperate, clingy girl who once pursued me relentlessly. This is a woman who knows her worth.

"And now?" I ask. "What do you want now?"

"Honestly? I want to know if there's any possibility for us," she says. "Not as some fated bond that forces us together, but as two people who might actually care about each other. If there isn't, I'll accept that and move on."

Her vulnerability, combined with her strength, stirs something deep within me. She's offering me a real choice. Not manipulation, not pressure—just a genuine chance.

A knock on the door interrupts us. We both look toward it, the moment suspended between us.

"Nate?" Olivia calls. "The client from Parker Industries is on line one."

Madeline offers a small smile. "You should take that. We can talk another time." She turns to leave, and I find myself rising from my chair, not ready for her to go. I don't want her to walk away. Not now. Not when everything feels different.

"Madeline, wait—" But she's already opening the door, offering a polite nod to Olivia before stepping out.

I sink back into my chair, my thoughts racing. What am I doing? Why can't I just let her go?

The truth I've been avoiding crashes over me. The hotel wasn't just physical attraction—it was a connection I've never felt with anyone else. And seeing her now, confident and self-assured rather than desperately chasing me, only makes that connection stronger.

I need to see her again. Not in this office, not surrounded by work and distractions. Somewhere we can really talk.

I pick up the phone to answer the client, but my mind is already made up.

As soon as I finish, I'll find her. I'll suggest the hotel—neutral ground where we can be honest with each other without the complications of work. I'm not promising her forever. I'm just promising her a real conversation. That's all this is.

But even as I think it, I know I'm lying to myself. I want more than conversation. I want to understand this pull between us, to see if there's something real beneath the biological bond.

I want Madeline—not the girl who once clung to me, but the woman who now stands firmly on her own.

The client call drags on for twenty minutes, but my mind is elsewhere. When I finally hang up, I waste no time.

I gather my jacket and head out, scanning the office floor for any sign of her. I find Madeline in the break room, quietly sipping coffee as she reviews a document. When she looks up and sees me, surprise flickers across her face.

"Can we continue our conversation?" I ask, keeping my voice low. "Somewhere more private?"

She studies me for a moment, then nods. "When?"

"Now, if you're free."

Concern shows in her face. "What about work?"

"It can wait," I say, surprising both of us. "This is more important."

We walk together to the elevator in companionable silence.

The tension between us is palpable, but it's different now—expectant rather than desperate. As the elevator doors close, I turn to her. "I thought we could go somewhere we can really talk, without interruptions."

"I'd like that," she says.

The honesty in her eyes unravels me. Without thinking, I lean forward and kiss her—not hungrily or desperately, but with genuine tenderness. She responds in kind, her lips soft against mine, a promise rather than a demand.

When we part, her smile is dazzling. "I take it you have a place in mind?"

"The hotel we were at before," I suggest. "It's neutral ground."

She nods, understanding the significance. Neither my place nor hers—somewhere we can simply be ourselves without the weight of our common surroundings.

The elevator doors open, and we walk through the lobby and out to my car. As I hold the door open for her, she pauses.

"Nate," she says softly. "Whatever happens, I want you to know that I'm not expecting anything. This is about figuring things out together."

Her words lift a weight I hadn't realized I was carrying. "Thank you," I say simply.

As we get into the car, I steal glances at her profile. The afternoon sun glints off her hair, illuminating the woman she's become. There's a quiet confidence about her that draws me in more powerfully than any flirtation could have.

As I pull away from the curb, I check the rearview mirror and notice a gray Buick pulling out as well.

"Is everything okay?" Madeline asks, noticing my tension.

"Look through the mirror on your side," I say quietly. "You see that gray Buick?"

She leans and nods. "Yeah, what about it?"

"It's been following us."

"Are you sure?"

"Watch this." I make a left turn, heading away from our destination. Madeline keeps her eyes on the side mirror. "I don't see anything."

I check my mirror. "You're right, maybe I—wait, there it is!"

The car appears again, maintaining a careful distance but definitely following our route. I take another random turn, and soon the Buick follows.

"What the heck is going on?" she asks, her voice rising with tension. "Who is that?"

I notice how her face has paled, her knuckles white as she grips the edge of her seat. This isn't just concern—it's fear. Deep, visceral fear.

"I don't know," I say, "but I'm not going to let them chase us." I accelerate, making a series of quick turns until I'm certain we've lost our tail.

Madeline breathes, still looking behind us. "Do you think those were hunters?"

"Nope," I lie, not wanting to frighten her further. "Probably just people looking for someone to rob." But I'm not convinced by my own explanation. The precision of that tail, this wasn't random. Someone is tracking us.

I reach across and take her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We're safe now. You don't have to worry."

She takes a deep breath and nods, but I can feel her trembling slightly.

I drive us toward the hotel, constantly checking the mirrors for any sign of the Buick. The afternoon plans we'd made moments ago now feel distant, replaced by an immediate threat. But strangely, I find I don't mind.

Protecting Madeline has become my priority, trumping everything else.

When we arrive, I come around to her side of the car and open the door. She reaches for my hand immediately, and I'm struck by how natural it feels to keep her close.

"Come on," she says. "Let's get inside."

As we walk toward the hotel entrance, I take one more look around, scanning the street and parking lot.

My protective instincts are in overdrive, every sense alert for danger. Whatever's going on I’m going to make sure she’s not a target.

No one threatens my mate and gets away with it—regardless of what happens between us.