Delia's POV
The door to Julian’s private suite clicked shut, and for one glorious, delusional second, the world was perfect. The air in his room was different, cooler, smelling of cedar, expensive leather, and the heavy, intoxicating scent of the man who carried me. I felt the strength in his arms and the steady beat of his heart against my shoulder, and I let myself believe the lie. I let myself believe that the dinner, the kisses, and the promises of grandchildren weren't just a performance for my mother.
Then, the world shifted.
Julian didn’t carry me to the massive, silk-draped bed in the center of the room. He didn't even slow down. With a sudden, jarring motion, he unceremoniously dropped me. I didn't land on soft pillows; I hit the hardwood floor with a dull thud, my dress bunchi
