Marcus' POV "I'll help you with the pasta," I offered, taking off my coat and rolling up the sleeves of my shirt while Madeline arranged the ingredients on the kitchen counter. "That would be great," she said, but there was something different in her voice. Something I couldn't quite identify. We started working side by side. I measured the flour while she cracked the eggs. It was a simple, domestic routine. Something that should have felt completely normal. But almost immediately, I noticed Madeline was acting… strange. First, she dropped an egg on the floor. When she bent down to clean it up, she stayed in that position far longer than necessary, in a way that emphasized the curves of her body. When she straightened up, we were suddenly very close, and she lingered there a few seconds before stepping away. "Sorry," she murmured, though she didn't look sorry at all. We kept working, and the little "accidents" kept happening. Madeline brushed against me several times while
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