Page 9 of Mated To My Boss

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 doesthisMadeline—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.

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