Madeline's POV
Calixto introduced me to Cerila, the young woman assigned as my personal assistant, and I was quietly relieved to see she was about my age. She wore a neat uniform, her demeanor proper but distant, and though she greeted me politely, I could sense she was keeping a deliberate wall between us. After laying out a fresh dress across my bed and checking a few final details, she offered a slight nod and excused herself, leaving me alone in the room once more.
I frowned at the dress.
"Seriously? I just wore a dress earlier," I muttered, mostly to myself, but loud enough for Calixto—who was still lingering at my door—to hear.
He arched a brow. "Maddie, you're about to meet your future husband. You need to look stunning and presentable. First impressions matter."
He motioned toward the vanity. "Also, you might want to consider wearing one of the perfumes Hunter selected for you. They're high-end, curated specifically with your preferences in mind."
I blinked. Hunter picked these out? I had no idea what my preferences were, let alone how he did.
Still, I nodded, not wanting to argue. "Seven o'clock?" I asked, and Calixto nodded before he checked his watch. "Dinner will be served promptly. Hunter rarely comes home for supper, but tonight he made an exception. For you."
I tilted my head. "So... if you're his right hand, does that mean you're like his assistant?"
He chuckled. "In a way. But more than that, I'm a handler of his affairs—professional, legal, and sometimes personal. I also serve as his escort when needed. Don't let the gray hairs fool you—I can still take down a man twice my size if the situation calls for it."
I narrowed my eyes. "Is he... a troublemaker?"
Calixto laughed, genuinely amused. "No, Ms. Brownwood. But Hunter Divenson is a very powerful man. With power comes scrutiny. And sometimes... danger."
He stepped toward the door. "Be ready before seven. Cerila will escort you to the dining hall. Whatever you do—don't be late. Hunter hates tardiness."
As he opened the door, I quipped, "You don't happen to have a manual, do you?"
He paused. "A manual?"
"For being his fiancée. Or a resident in this oversized palace. There are so many rules—I don't want to break any and get thrown into the dungeon," I joked, trying to lighten the mood.
He chuckled. "No manuals, I'm afraid. Just instinct. And I believe yours are pretty sharp."
As he stepped out, he added over his shoulder, "I better head out now. If I'm late, my wife might lock me out of the house."
I smiled faintly and walked him to the door.
Before I could close it, Lily appeared in the hallway, her face lighting up the moment she saw me.
"Hello, Maddie! Can I come in?"
"Of course," I said, swinging the door open wide.
"Can I sit on your couch?" she asked sweetly.
"Please do," I said, watching as she made herself comfortable on the cream-colored sofa.
She looked at her hands, suddenly shy. "I'm a little hurt, you know."
My brows furrowed. "Why, Lily?"
She pouted. "Because Hunter didn't tell me he was getting married. And I didn't get to meet you before he proposed. I thought he loved me the most..."
My heart ached a little. She was too precious.
"I'm sure he does love you, Lily. But he's just so busy. He didn't mean to leave you out," I said gently, hoping my lie would comfort her.
"Really?" she asked, brightening just a bit.
"Really," I confirmed, though the lie tasted bitter on my tongue.
Then she leaned closer. "Do you love my brother, Maddie?"
I swallowed hard. How do you answer a question like that when you haven't even met the man yet?
"Yes," I said, nodding. Another lie.
"So much?"
I forced a smile. "Very much."
She smiled, satisfied, and hugged me tightly. "Please don't leave him, okay? He needs someone like you."
I hugged her back, feeling the sincerity of her small arms around me. "I'll do my best."
"I wish I could sleep here tonight," she sighed. "But Mom would never allow it."
She stood and brushed down her dress. "Don't mind them, Maddie. They might not act like it, but my brother does love you. And I like you. That's what matters."
I was too stunned by her honesty to respond.
"I'll see you at dinner," she said brightly, then turned and walked off, waving goodbye.
I closed the door behind her and leaned against it, heart racing. My mind was spinning—but not from the family. Not even from the lies. It was the strange, growing dread of meeting him.
By six-thirty, I was ready. I'd chosen a flowing cerulean gown that hugged my figure and shimmered beneath the soft light. I applied minimal makeup—just enough to highlight my features—and spritzed myself with a soft floral perfume. I didn't know who I was trying to impress, but something told me I had to look my best tonight.
The knock came on cue. Cerila stood at my door.
"You look stunning, Ms. Maddie. Please follow me to the feasting hall."
As I walked behind her through the long corridors, my heart began to thump faster with every step. And when I reached the grand dining room and saw the long table with silver place settings and flickering candles—I froze.
Because Hunter Divenson was already there.
And he was staring at me.
The world tilted slightly, as if everything around me had lost its balance. I had seen his portraits—framed in gold and displayed like masterpieces across the mansion—but nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared me for the real man.
He was devastatingly handsome.
Hunter Divenson rose from his seat with an effortless kind of grace, like a man accustomed to commanding attention the moment he entered a room. He was tall—easily over six feet—with broad shoulders that filled out his charcoal suit perfectly. The expensive fabric clung to his sculpted frame like it had been tailored by gods.
And then… his eyes found mine.
Hazel-green. Piercing. Focused.
There was something in them—sharp intelligence, veiled amusement, a cool detachment—but also an undercurrent of heat that unsettled me. That gaze didn't just look at me—it searched me. And I didn't know whether to run… or drown in it.
Then he smiled.
Just a subtle curve of his lips.
Controlled. Dangerous. Devastating.
My breath hitched.
He moved toward me slowly, every footstep echoing in my head like a drumbeat. I felt the air shift around him. It was as though gravity bent slightly in his direction.
When he stopped in front of me, I forgot how to breathe.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here when you arrived, Maddie," he said, his voice smooth as velvet. Deep. Confident. It wrapped around my name like a secret.
"I promise I'll make it up to you."
Before I could respond—before I could even blink—he leaned in and kissed me.
His lips met mine with a shocking gentleness, warm and assertive. My entire body froze—but only for a moment. Because then instinct took over. My lips moved against his, and my knees went weak. I forgot who I was, where I was, and why I was here. All I knew was the taste of him—clean, intoxicating, and maddeningly addictive.
The kiss deepened. It wasn't slow anymore. It was heat and hunger and something unspoken. He kissed me like he already owned me—and I let him.
By the time he pulled away, my lungs screamed for air, my heart pounded in my chest, and my thoughts were tangled beyond repair.
He still held me—one strong hand resting possessively on my waist.
Then he leaned in close, his breath teasing my ear.
"So eager to kiss me back, Ms. Brownwood?" he murmured, his voice a low purr. I barely had time to react before he brushed his lips against my earlobe in a playful nip that sent a shock straight through my spine.
My skin flushed. Goosebumps danced across my arms.
He finally let go, and I stood there, breathless, stunned, completely and utterly unprepared for what he'd just done to me. Before I could recover, he reached behind me and pulled out a chair.
"Please," he said, gesturing.
I sat down on legs that barely remembered how to function. He took the seat beside me with an ease that contrasted my unraveling composure.
I glanced up to find his entire family watching us with smiles.
Mrs. Divenson, who had earlier looked like she wanted to rip me apart, now wore a pleasant—almost motherly—expression. Mr. Divenson folded his paper, appearing suddenly interested. Parker and Charlotte exchanged glances that were impossible to read. Even Lily, seated near the end, looked thrilled.
Were they pretending? Or had one kiss from Hunter Divenson really changed everything?
"Shall we begin dinner?" Hunter asked smoothly.
"Of course, dear," his mother said with unexpected sweetness.
I glanced down at my plate, but my appetite was gone. The kiss had left me shaken. I couldn't even remember what food was.
"You should eat, my love," Hunter said casually, his voice low enough for only me to hear. "I don't want you looking too thin on our wedding day. I admire your figure… and I expect you to keep it just the way it is."
I nodded mutely, unable to summon a single word. His words made my face burn, but I couldn't look away. He smiled at me again. And just like that, I realized something terrifying. This wasn't just a role I was forced to play.
This man, this stranger had already stolen my first kiss. He had made my heart skip and my thoughts scatter. And turned my world upside down in less than five minutes.
And as I sat beside him, still breathless from the kiss that started it all, I felt it deep in my bones—I was falling into something I didn't understand, and I realized my heart was already in trouble.