Switched Bride True Luna novel Chapter 65

The door opened without a knock interrupting my thoughts. I did look up. I didn’t need to.

Only one person entered a room like that around me–like she had the right to. Like she didn’t care if I said yes or no

Emily crossed the room with quiet steps, a manila folder tucked under one arm, a loose cardigan hanging over the dress that I couldn’t stop tracing her curves in.

Her hair was tied back in a hasty twist, strands falling loose near her temples.

She looked tired. She looked real. And beautiful.

“You’re working late,” she said simply.

I marked the line in my report and finally lifted my gaze. “So are you.”

She set the folder between us on the edge of the desk. “There’s a discrepancy in the vendor invoicing for the East Ridge contracts. Might be a duplicate filing, but it could also be someone trying to hide a kickback.”

I nodded, flipping it open. The red marks on the copy were precise clean notations, margin questions, proposed solutions. Not just a complaint, but a fix.

“Did you pull this from our records or your own?”

“Mine,” she said. “But I cross–referenced it here. Carla flagged it as an archive, but I remembered it from a report Iris covered last month.”

A flare of pride rose up in my chest. Emily was thorough. I squashed that feeling before I could look too far into it.

We worked in silence for a few minutes, shuffling papers, highlighting lines. The rhythm was familiar. Comfortable in a way I hadn’t let myself consider too closely.

She didn’t fill space with chatter. She didn’t wait for praise. She just… worked. Efficient. Focused.

At some point, I passed her another file, and she reached for it at the same time. Our hands touched–palm to palm, skin to skin, just for a second longer than was necessary.

But neither of us moved.

Her fingers were warm. Steady.

The contact was nothing. And also everything.

I let my hand slide back first, slower than I should have.

But Emily kept reading, unbothered. Or pretending to be. But I wasn’t pretending. My pulse had shifted gears.

I sat back slightly, studying her. The way her brow furrowed when she read fine print. The way her lips moved silently when she rephrased bad clauses. The way she always tucked her left foot under her chair when she was thinking.

Everything about her presence was becoming familiar now.

Too familiar.

I remembered the fortune teller at the gala. Her words were etched into the corner of my mind like a thorn I hadn’t bothered to pull: “Your mate is already beside you.”

I hadn’t believed it then. I couldn’t. Emily’s wolf was dormant. She couldn’t feel the bond. Couldn’t recognize it.

But I could. And I wondered if I had.

The first night I met her, before I knew her name, her scent had done something to me. Not just aroused–it anchored. Like the

Chapter 65

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