Page 8 of Mated To My Boss

"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.

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