Page 15 of Mated To My Boss

“What are you talking about?”

“Madeline, I know what you want and it isn't me.”

“Don't say that. If you knew what I wanted, you wouldn't have run away.”

“That's exactly why I left. I can't provide the love and affection you want. I'm not wired that way.”

“I understand that. But you can't deny that the pull of the mating bond is strong.”

I let out my frustrations with a groan. “You don't understand. Just because we're fated mates doesn't mean that we're automatically perfect for each other.”

“I understand that you believe it, but that's exactly what it means.” she says patiently.

“No,” I counter. “You thought that because you were young and somehow you still believe that today. Madeline, if things were so black and white, why did your aunt choose not to stay with her own fated mate?”

“This isn't about her, it's about us. There's no one else here. Do you truly feel nothing for me?” she asks quietly.

“I—I—”Words fail me.

“I’m not here to claim you or push you. We both have to deal with the needs of our wolves,” she states, almost changing the subject.

“Why won't you understand?” I ask plaintively.

“Why won't you?” she argues. “ These feelings are normal, we are mates”

“We may not even be compatible.”

“Compatible?” she scoffs. “Have you forgotten that we've already slept together before and it was the best thing in the world?”

“That was so long ago,” I say firmly. “Who's to say we're still the same people? Our thoughts, our preferences—they could’ve changed.”

“That’s true,” she admits softly. “I guess we’ll never know.”

“I wanted you then,” she continues, her eyes locked on mine, “and I want you now. Believe me when I say nothing’s changed.”

I shake my head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” she challenges. “You think we’re not compatible anymore?”

“We’re not,” I say, trying to convince myself more than her.

“You can’t just say that and expect me to take your word for it,” she says, arms crossed. “If you really believe we won’t work, then show me. Prove to me that you and I don’t fit.”

“I know what I’m saying—”

“Then stand on it,” she fires back. “Prove it. Otherwise, admit you're scared. Admit you know what we have is real, and it terrifies you.”

I watch her for a long second. The challenge in her voice. The fire in her eyes. Damn, she’s serious.

“Alright then,” I say, stepping closer. “Let’s settle this once and for all.”

Her brows lift. “What are you talking about?”

“Come with me.”

She stares like she thinks I’m bluffing. I’m not.

I lead her out of the building and into my car. She’s quiet, confused, which only sharpens the edge of anticipation cutting through me. The ride is short, maybe ten minutes tops. But when we pull up, her breath catches.

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