As Della laid back in the hot tub, the warmth of the water cocooned her. The heat relaxed her muscles, and the soft, bubbling currents swirled around her like a gentle embrace. For a moment, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to imagine that everything was different—that she was simply a bride enjoying her honeymoon.
But reality crept back in like a dark shadow. She knew it had been a terrible idea to grant Diego's request. Della had known the risks, and yet, desperation had clouded her judgment. She was too sick, and too desperate to turn down what seemed like an opportunity, no matter how morally wrong it felt. Pretending to be Emily, stepping into her shoes—it was wrong on every level, and she knew it. Emily was a beautiful woman, elegant and poised, and Della had taken her place. Every time she looked in the mirror, she felt a pang of guilt, like she was seeing a reflection of a stranger who had stolen someone else's life.
Emily's mother—Mrs. Adley—was the kindest woman Della had ever met. She treated Della like her own daughter, showering her with affection and warmth that Della hadn't felt in years. Mrs. Adley's love for Emily was evident in every word she spoke, every touch of her hand. And that was precisely why Della couldn't let the truth come out. If Mrs. Adley ever discovered that the woman she believed to be her daughter was an imposter, it would break her heart. Della shivered despite the warmth of the water, the thought of Mrs. Adley's face twisting in betrayal and heartbreak haunting her.
And then, there was Hunter. Hunter, with his deep, rich voice and that subtle, intriguing accent that made Della's stomach tighten every time he spoke. There was something about the way he carried himself—calm, confident, and commanding—that drew her in, despite all her attempts to stay detached. Della found herself entranced by him, and that was the most dangerous part of all. She hadn't expected him to be so… magnetic. It made everything so much harder. She had promised herself she wouldn't fall for him, that she would keep her distance. But the way he looked at her, the way he'd touched her hand during the wedding, the way he whispered in her ear as they danced—it was all too much.
She remembered their wedding kiss, the one in the church after they were pronounced husband and wife. It had been her first passionate kiss, and it had felt so good, so perfect, that she'd almost forgotten where she was, almost forgotten the lie she was living. For that brief moment, it felt real, and she had let herself believe, just for an instant, that it was. But the kiss ended, and reality came crashing back. It had left her feeling strangely disappointed, longing for more. She replayed that moment over and over in her mind since, the way his lips felt against hers, the warmth of his hand on her waist, the way he looked into her eyes like he was searching for something deeper.
But she couldn't let herself fall into that trap. She couldn't allow herself to become emotionally attached to Hunter. It was a slippery slope, and she was already teetering on the edge. If he ever found out who she really was—if he ever discovered that she wasn't Emily—everything would fall apart. The marriage, the Adley's trust, the entire arrangement… it would all unravel. And she couldn't let that happen.
Della sighed, sinking deeper into the tub, the water rising up to her chin. She tried to focus on the warmth, the soothing sensation of the bubbles against her skin, but her thoughts kept returning to Hunter. She remembered how it felt when he pulled her close during their dance, the way his fingers brushed against her waist, sending a shiver down her spine. She tried to hide her reaction, but her body betrayed her—her heart had raced, her breath had quickened, and a wave of unfamiliar desire had washed over her. She could still feel the ghost of his touch, still hear his whisper in her ear: "You look lovely tonight." The words echoed in her mind, and she felt her pulse quicken again.
And then there were Mrs. Adley's words, still ringing in her ears: *"We should be having a grandchild soon."* Della's stomach twisted at the thought. It was too soon, far too soon. The idea of sharing such an intimate moment with Hunter terrified her. She was still a virgin, and the thought of Hunter discovering that filled her with dread. She had no idea how he would react. What if he was upset? What if he was disappointed? What if he realized she wasn't the experienced, worldly woman Emily had been?
Della felt the panic rising in her chest, her breaths coming faster. She couldn't let Hunter find out. She had to avoid him, no matter what. She couldn't afford to let him get too close. But how could she resist him when she felt this pull, this inexplicable connection? How could she keep her guard up when every time he was near, she felt her body weakening? Della knew she was playing a dangerous game, one where the stakes were far higher than she had anticipated.