By the time Hunter and Damon arrived at Hunter's sprawling mansion, Fred was already waiting by the door. He was a meticulous young man, always punctual and impeccably dressed.
Hunter greeted him with a nod and led the way inside.
"Fred, I need someone to be Hunter Quinn for the next six months," Hunter said as they entered the grand foyer. The marble floors and crystal chandeliers contrasted sharply with his current attire.
Fred's brow furrowed slightly. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean, sir," Fred said as he followed Hunter into the spacious living room.
Before Hunter could respond, Damon interjected, "Why involve a stranger? Why not Fred himself? He knows you best."
Hunter shook his head. "Too risky. Anyone who knows me might recognize him and call out to him in public when he's with her. We need someone neutral, someone who can blend in."
Damon nodded thoughtfully. "You have a point. I'd offer myself if I wasn't so popular," Damon said and Hunter shook his head.
"And what happens if you fall in love with my wife? I'd have to kill you. I don't want to," Hunter said and Damon laughed, while Fred kept looking from one to the other in confusion.
"You know about my interest in Delilah Sterling," Hunter said as he sat down.
Fred gave him a curt nod. "Yes, sir."
"You've also heard about her interest in me," he said, and once again Fred nodded.
"I'm married to her now. But not as Hunter. Since she doesn't know what Hunter looks like, I want someone else to be Hunter for a while. That will be only when she is in the picture. I'd handle every thing else myself. Can you find someone suitable?" Hunter asked, and Fred gave him a nod.
"Yes, I can. Give me a few hours," he said, and Hunter clapped him on the shoulder.
"Perfect. Make sure whoever you bring understands the role. And most importantly, make sure he is a gentleman enough and knows how to keep his hands to himself, else he just might lose his hands," Hunter said with a smile that didn't touch his eyes.
As Fred left to make arrangements, Hunter excused himself to go freshen up while and Damon went to the bar pour himself a glass of wine.
Inside his bedroom, Hunter glanced at his phone's screen, and sighed when he saw the number of missed calls from his grandmother.
Hesitantly he dialed her number and it didn't take long for the call to connect, "You rascal! If I were dying would you be calling now?" She scolded.
"If you were dying, you'd need a doctor not me. Besides, you have the nurses at home to watch over you. Had it been an emergency they would have called me," Hunter said easily.
"You rascal. Does that mean you deliberately ignored my calls because you knew it wasn't an emergency?" The old lady asked, and Hunter chuckled.
"Precisely. I knew you were going to nag, and I didn't want to hear it."
"Sorry to disappoint you, I didn't call to nag. I want you home for dinner tomorrow," she said and Hunter shook his head.
"I'm sorry, that won't be possibl…"
"Make it possible. Be here by 6 PM tomorrow," she said and hung up before he could argue further.
She was always nagging and hanging up without letting him say his piece, he mused with a sigh as he threw his phone on the bed.
Not wanting to keep Damon waiting for too long, he quickly freshened up, and when he was done he returned to join Damon again.
When he got there, he saw Damon sipping from a glass of whiskey, and when Damon saw him, he raised his glass in a toast. "To the game, and to always keeping it interesting," he said, and Hunter chuckled.
"When we first saw her, I never would have imagined things would get here," Hunter said as he picked up the glass of whiskey Damon had reserved for him.
"Me neither," Damon said, laughing as they both flashed back to the first time they met Delilah.
Although it had been two years since they first saw her, the image was as clear as if it had happened yesterday.
Two Years Ago
Hunter and Damon strolled into the upscale restaurant for a lunch meeting. The establishment was known for its exclusivity and fine dining, a place where the city's elite came to unwind and discuss business.
The maître d' greeted them warmly and led them to their table. As they walked through the dining area, Hunter's attention was suddenly drawn to a commotion near the center of the room.
There, on her knees, was a young woman crying profusely. Her sobs were loud enough to catch the attention of almost everyone in the restaurant. She was pleading with an older woman, her hands clasped together in desperation. "Please, I beg you! I love Richie more than anything in this world. Please don't do this to me!"
The older woman's response was chilling. Without a word, she picked up a glass of water and poured it over the girl's head as she looked down at her with cold disdain.
The scene was heart-wrenching, and Hunter felt a pang of compassion for the young woman who looked utterly devastated, with tears streaming down her cheeks.
Hunter's jaw clenched, and he took a step forward, ready to intervene. But Damon's hand on his arm stopped him. "Hunter, don't. We don't know what's going on."
Reluctantly, Hunter allowed himself to be guided to their table, which was uncomfortably close to where the drama was unfolding.
He couldn't take his eyes off the young woman, feeling a mix of anger and pity. What kind of man would allow his girlfriend to endure such humiliation?
His thoughts were interrupted when the older woman reached into her purse and pulled out a checkbook. She scribbled something quickly and handed the check to the young woman.
"Here. Take this and disappear. I don't want you anywhere around him ever again."
Hunter watched as the girl's tears stopped immediately, and she reached for the cheque, glanced at it, and then looked up at the older woman with a surprising steadiness.
Both he and Damon watched with bated breath as they waited for her to tear up the cheque, and walk away, but what she said next stunned them.
"Isn't this amount a little too small? You should triple it if you're serious," she said, her voice suddenly calm.
Hunter's eyes widened in disbelief while Damon's jaw hung low. The transformation was startling.
"And I prefer you to transfer the money to my account right now. I don't trust Cheques. I can promise that Richie won't ever see me or hear from me again if you do it right now."
They watched as she rattled off her account number, and the older woman, with a final look of contempt, pulled out her phone and completed the transfer.
The moment the transaction was confirmed, the older woman turned on her heel and left the restaurant.
As soon as she was gone, the young woman stood up, her demeanor completely changed. She was no longer the picture of despair but looked almost triumphant. She laughed softly, picked up a paper napkin, and began dabbing the water off her face.
Hunter and Damon exchanged gobsmacked looks. "Did we just witness what I think we did?" Damon asked, his voice low with disbelief.
Hunter nodded slowly, still trying to process what he had seen. "She was playing her," he said, almost to himself. "The whole time."
They watched as the young woman, now dry and composed, walked to a nearby mirror on the wall to check her appearance.
She caught Hunter's eye in the reflection and gave him a small, enigmatic smile before walking out of the restaurant.
Hunter shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips as he remembered that moment. That was the day Delilah Sterling had first entered his world, leaving a lasting impression.