I’m already married
Delia’s POV
I knew something was wrong the moment Katia walked out of that restaurant and didn’t look back.
She didn’t slam a door. She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t threaten me or humiliate me the way I half–expected her to. She just stood up, said her piece with frightening calm, and left me sitting there with my insecurities laid bare on a polished tablecloth.
I went home unsettled.
My mother was in the sitting room when I arrived, seated stiffly on the cream sofa, her tablet resting unused on her lap. She looked up the moment I stepped inside, eyes sharp, already searching my face for answers
“Well?” she asked.
I dropped my bag and paced once, twice, before answering. “I met Katia.”
Her brows lifted. “And?”
“And it didn’t go the way I expected,” I said, pressing my lips together. “She wasn’t defensive. Or apologetic. She didn’t even deny anything because there was nothing to deny.”
My mother frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” I said slowly, “that whatever is happening between her and the Windsors… it’s not something she orchestrated.”
That much, at least, I was forced to admit.
My phone buzzed in my hand before my mother could respond. I glanced down at the screen, and my breath caught. It was a text message from Julian Windsor.
My heart stuttered, then sped up.
Julian: We need to talk. Can you meet me tonight?
I stared at the message as if it might vanish if I blinked too hard. He was reaching out to me finally.
I typed back almost immediately, fingers trembling despite myself.
Delia: Of course. I’d love to.
The reply came less than a minute later.
Julian: I’ll send a car to pick you up.
I sucked in a breath and looked up at my mother, unable to hide the smile spreading across my face.
“He texted me,” I said. “Julian. He wants to meet.”
Her eyes sharpened with interest. “That’s good,” she said quickly. “Very good. Maybe he’s finally warming up to you.”
That was exactly what I wanted to believe.
I went upstairs and took my time getting ready, choosing a dress that walked the fine line between elegant and alluring. Nothing too desperate. Nothing too severe. I curled my hair carefully, applied makeup with practiced precision, and studied my reflection until I looked like the kind of woman a Windsor would want on his arm.
An hour later, the low purr of an engine announced the car’s arrival. He sent a Rolls–Royce. My pulse leapt
I stepped outside, heart racing, and slid into the backseat, smoothing my dress as the door closed. The interior smelled faintly of
1/3
leather and something expensive I couldn’t name.
As the car pulled away, I watched the streets of Brooklyn pass by and then continue passing by.
We didn’t stop.
We didn’t turn back.
We kept going.
My excitement dimmed just a fraction when I realized we weren’t leaving the borough. Which meant Julian was not in Manhattan; he was here. That should have reassured me, but instead it made my nerves coil tighter.
+25 Bonus
The car finally slowed and stopped in front of The Velvet Ember. I frowned. Of all places.
This was where Katia had been when I first saw her again after six years. Where I’d realized–too late- only survived without us but thrived.
that my
sister had not
The valet opened my door. I stepped out, forcing my shoulders back, reminding myself that this meeting was about me. About my future.
Inside, I was led past the main dining area to a secluded booth draped in soft shadows and amber light.
Julian was already there.
He sat perfectly still, one arm resting against the leather seat, a glass in his hand. He looked up when I approached, his gaze assessing me the way a man would assess a woman.
I smiled and slid into the seat across from him.

I said, voice rising despite my effort to control it, “that I’m supposed to marry a man who already has a
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