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.
Hunter had never encountered anyone quite like her— so audacious, so unapologetically bold. He had been both intrigued and repelled, fascinated by her brazen approach to life.
The next time he had encountered her had been six months later, after their initial encounter in the restaurant.
He had decided to visit an orphanage home that his family's foundation supported. It was a routine check to ensure everything was running smoothly and to see if there were any additional needs the foundation could assist with.
As he drove through the gates of the orphanage, he noticed a familiar figure getting into a sleek black car. Her back was to him, but he recognized the confident stride, the perfectly styled hair, and the designer clothes.
His suspicion was confirmed when she turned to wave at some of the kids who had come out to see her off.
What was someone like her doing at an orphanage? His curiosity was piqued, and he was determined to find out more.
Hunter made his way inside and was greeted by Mrs. Jenkins, the kind-hearted woman who ran the orphanage. She was in her late fifties, with a warm smile and a nurturing presence that the children adored.
"Mr. Quinn, it's so good to see you," Mrs. Jenkins said, shaking his hand.
"It's good to see you too, Mrs. Jenkins," Hunter replied. "I have a few questions, if you don't mind."
"Of course, anything you need," she said, guiding him to her office.
As they walked, Hunter couldn't help but glance back at the entrance, where Delilah had just been. Once they were seated in Mrs. Jenkins' modest office, he got straight to the point.
"I saw a woman leaving as I arrived," he began. "Can you tell me who she was?"
Mrs. Jenkins smiled knowingly. "Ah, that would be Delilah Sterling. She's one of our most dedicated sponsors."
Hunter raised an eyebrow. "Delilah Sterling? She donates to the orphanage?"
"Oh, yes," Mrs. Jenkins said, her eyes lighting up with gratitude. "Delilah has been supporting us for a couple of years now. She makes generous donations every month and visits often to spend time with the children."
Hunter was taken aback. This was a side of Delilah he hadn't expected. The woman he had seen begging and scheming in the restaurant was also a benefactor to an orphanage? It didn't add up, but it intrigued him even more.
"What kind of donations does she make?" he asked, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice.
"She's helped us with everything from school supplies to medical expenses," Mrs. Jenkins explained. "Just last month, she funded the renovation of our playground. The children absolutely adore her."
Hunter nodded, absorbing the information. "That's impressive."
"Yeah. Delilah is a remarkable woman," Mrs. Jenkins said.
Hunter left the orphanage that day with a newfound respect for Delilah. Her actions didn't fit the image he had of her from their first meeting.
That night, Hunter couldn't stop thinking about Delilah. He replayed the scene at the restaurant and contrasted it with what he had learned at the orphanage.
The two sides of her didn't seem to match. On one hand, she was a gold digger who had shamelessly manipulated a wealthy woman for money. On the other, she was a generous benefactor who cared deeply for orphaned children.
Hunter decided he needed to know more about her. His curiosity was not just about exposing a gold digger; it was about understanding a complex, multifaceted woman who defied easy categorization. Delilah was a puzzle, and Hunter was determined to solve her.
Over the next few months, Hunter got Fred to hire an investigator to look into Delilah and keep tabs on her activities.
The investigator discreetly followed her, learned about her routines, and gathered information.
Hunter discovered that she was involved in several charitable endeavors, not just the orphanage. She volunteered at nursing homes and soup kitchens, organized fundraising events, and even sponsored scholarships for underprivileged students.
The more he learned, the more Hunter's initial perception of Delilah began to shift. She was still a mystery, but one that intrigued him deeply. Her contradictions made her fascinating, and he found himself increasingly drawn to her.
One morning, six months ago, while reviewing some of the information he had gathered, Damon walked into his office and sighed when he saw photos of Delilah on the desk.
"Still obsessed with your mystery woman, I see," he said, dropping into a chair.
Hunter looked up. "You wouldn't believe the things I've found out about her, Damon. She's not just a gold digger. She's so much more than that."
Damon raised an eyebrow. "Really? Like what?"
Hunter leaned back, his eyes distant as he recounted what he had discovered. "She's deeply involved in charity work. She's been supporting an orphanage, volunteering at soup kitchens, and funding scholarships. There's a side to her that's incredibly kind and generous."
Damon listened, his skepticism gradually turning into curiosity. "Really?"
Before Hunter could respond, Fred walked into his office. "I have news from the investigator," Fred announced.
"Go on," Hunter said, eager to learn even more about her.
Fred's lips twitched as though he was struggling not to laugh. "It appears Ms Sterling has taken an interest in you, and you're her next target," Fred announced.
"Huh?" Hunter asked in disbelief and Damon burst into a peal of laughter, leaving Fred no choice but to join in the laughter.
"I'm sorry, sir," Fred apologized as he tried to compose himself.
Hunter and Damon listened as Fred told them all he had heard from the investigator and when he was done, Damon raised a brow.
"So, what's your plan now? Are you going to confront her about it?"
Hunter shook his head. "No. I am trying to understand her better. I want to know why she does that. I need to see who she really is, beyond the façade. And to do that, I need to get closer to her."
Damon smirked. "Sounds like you're more than a little intrigued, my friend."
Hunter didn't deny it. Delilah had become more than just a target; she was a challenge, a puzzle that he was determined to solve. And the more he learned about her, the more he realized that the woman behind the mask was someone worth knowing.
"How do you plan to get close to her?" Damon asked, and Hunter smiled as an idea began to form in his head.
"I'm going to marry her," Hunter said with a smirk.
And just like that, the plan to get close to Delilah was hatched.
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