My Wife To Be-Part 2

Hunter's POV

We rose from the dining table one by one, exchanging soft goodnights under the golden glow of the chandelier. Lily, ever affectionate, wrapped her arms around Madeline and whispered something in her ear that made Maddie smile. I couldn't hear what she said—but I saw the way Maddie's eyes lit up, and that was enough. My sister didn't warm to people easily. Yet here she was, clinging to Maddie like she'd known her for years.

They walked hand in hand up the stairs, and I followed a few steps behind. Lily's fingers remained laced with Maddie's as if she couldn't bear to let go just yet. It was clear—she'd already grown attached. And I didn't know how to feel about that.

All I knew was I needed time alone with Maddie. Just the two of us, before they could enter their room, I spoke.

"Lily," I said calmly, though there was a subtle edge in my voice. "I know you want to spend more time with Madeline, but I missed her today. There's something important we need to discuss."

Lily blinked, clearly disappointed, but nodded with her usual grace. "Of course, Hunter. I understand." She turned to Maddie, giving her one last squeeze. "Goodnight, Maddie. I'll see you tomorrow."

She hugged me too, then disappeared down the hallway, leaving the two of us alone.

Maddie glanced at me, clearly uncertain, but said nothing as she opened her bedroom door. I followed her inside. She hesitated, standing just beyond the threshold as if unsure what to do with me there. She turned—too quickly—and her delicate frame crashed into my chest.

My arms caught her on instinct, my hands settling on her waist to steady her. That's when it happened.

That spark.

It surged through me—an unexpected jolt of electricity that left my heart thundering. Her scent hit me next: soft, fresh, undeniably feminine. It was intoxicating. And for a heartbeat, I forgot why I'd come here.

I told myself it was just physical. A reaction. Nothing more.

She was going to be my wife, after all. But when I looked into her eyes—wide and uncertain—I didn't see obligation. I saw her.

Before she could pull away, I reached for her chin and tilted her face upward. My mouth found hers without hesitation, capturing her in a kiss that ignited something dangerous inside me.

She didn't resist, instead, she kissed me back hungrily.

Her soft moan was my undoing. The way she clutched at my shirt, the tremble in her breath—I could feel her unraveling beneath me, and it thrilled me. Her lips tasted like warmth and longing, like a promise I hadn't meant to make.

But I had to stop.

I pulled away, chest rising and falling, and instantly saw the shift in her expression. Her eyes dimmed. Her brows drew in ever so slightly—disappointment written in the quiet curve of her lips.

I shut it down.

"Don't get the wrong idea," I said coldly. "We're not kissing because I have feelings for you, Maddie. This is about appearances. Familiarity. I don't want anyone in this house to question whether this marriage is real."

She said nothing. Just stood there, quietly wounded.

"I'll be staying here tonight," I continued. "Don't worry—I won't touch you. Not until we're married. But I want my family to believe that we're in love. That we're already… intimate."

Her head dipped slightly, and I hated the sadness in her silence.

"Your left hand," I said.

She blinked. "What?"

"Your hand, Madeline."

When she didn't move fast enough, irritation flared inside me. "Didn't you hear me?"

She offered it—hesitantly. Her fingers were small, trembling slightly.

I pulled the ring from my pocket and slid it onto her finger. It glinted in the dim light, elegant and cold.

She gasped softly.

It fits perfectly.

Thank God for Calixto.

"Don't take it off," I said firmly. "That ring is a symbol. To them, it means you're mine. And I don't want anyone—anyone—thinking this is just for show."

She nodded, though I could see the questions forming behind her eyes. Questions she didn't dare ask.

"I won't remind you every day," I said, more bitterly than I meant to. "But this marriage has one purpose. You'll learn what it is soon enough."

I saw the flicker of confusion—and something else. Hurt.

Still, she nodded.

A beat passed.

"What should I call you?" she asked softly.

I looked away. "Just call me Hunter."

Her brows drew together slightly, and I could see her trying to understand why the man at the dinner table—the one who laughed and softened in her presence—was gone. Replaced by someone harder. Sharper. Detached.

I couldn't let her see the truth.

I turned to leave. "I'll be back later. Lock the door."

I didn't wait for a reply.

But just as I stepped into the hallway, I noticed Parker—leaning against the railing, his gaze trailing down the hall in the direction of Maddie's room.

And the look in his eyes made my blood boil.

He wasn't subtle about it. There was something predatory in his expression, something that lacked the decency of a brother or a guest. I clenched my fists.

I should've warned him. Should've made it clear from the beginning: she's off limits.

She's mine. In name. In responsibility. In promise.

And one day, maybe more.

I undressed slowly, peeling off the weight of the evening along with my suit. The hot shower felt like a much-needed reset—steam curling around me as I leaned into the tiled wall, letting the water wash away tension I didn't even realize I'd been holding.

When I stepped out, I felt clearer. Not lighter. Just… sharper. I was awake in a way I hadn't been in a long time.

I threw on a pair of dark sweatpants and a white sleeveless shirt, ran a towel through my hair, then caught sight of my reflection. My face looked calm, but my eyes—those damn eyes—were restless.

And I knew why. I couldn't stop thinking about Madeline.

I never imagined Frank had a daughter, let alone one he'd abandoned. How could he leave them behind and never say a word? I wish he were still alive so I could look him in the eye and ask him why. Why did he leave her to struggle? Why did he make a deal that forced her into my life—and into my arms?

Grabbing my phone and the spare key, I made my way to her room.

The moment I stepped inside, I felt like a boy again—nervous, awkward, foolishly out of place. She stood by the window, silhouetted by moonlight, and my breath caught.

She was wearing a pale nightgown—modest, but still dangerous. Her damp hair cascaded over one shoulder, and I could smell the faint trace of her shampoo—clean, fresh, almost citrusy. It hit me like a wave.

And God help me, she looked beautiful. Too beautiful.

Temptation lingered in the air like a slow-burning fuse. I kept my eyes respectfully averted, though my gaze kept drifting back. Her curves were subtle but impossible not to notice. And I knew—beneath that softness, Maddie had a fire.

I could see it. Feel it.

She turned slightly, startled by my arrival. Her lips parted as if to speak, but I beat her to it.

"It's late," I said, my voice a little rougher than I intended. "I have to be up early. You should get some rest."

She nodded and moved toward the bed without protest. The mattress creaked as she settled under the covers, and I followed, lying beside her—but keeping a careful distance.

Still, her presence filled the room. It was strange. We were strangers. And yet… it didn't feel that way. It felt like I'd known her forever. Like I'd been waiting for her without realizing it. I glanced at her. She was lying on her side, but I could feel her watching me.

"Maddie," I muttered, eyes still closed, "go to sleep. And stop checking me out."

She shifted quickly, clearly embarrassed. I caught the soft sound of her exhale—flustered, cute.

And I grinned.

It was ridiculous, but lying next to her felt… good. Too good.

I told myself this would be the first and last time. But deep down, I knew I was lying.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, I felt something warm and soft press against my side. I stirred, opening my eyes slowly—and froze.

Madeline was curled into me, her head resting on my chest, one leg draped over mine, her breathing slow and peaceful. Completely unguarded.

My chest tightened. I should've moved her. Created distance. Reminded her—and myself—what this arrangement was supposed to be. But I couldn't. She looked too serene. Too trusting. I didn't have the heart to push her away.

So I did what felt natural. I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her closer. She sighed in her sleep and snuggled deeper into me. And damn it, it felt so natural to have her in my arms.

I closed my eyes and allowed myself to pretend—for just a moment—that this wasn't a business arrangement. That she was mine, not out of obligation or circumstance, but by choice. By love.

Before dawn broke, I woke again, reluctantly slipping out of bed. She didn't stir, still curled into the warmth I left behind.

I stood for a moment and watched her sleep. She was dangerous in her innocence. Deadly in her softness. Madeline Brownwood will be the death of me.

I tiptoed to the door, unwilling to wake her, and closed it gently behind me.