Chapter 2

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee still lingered on Delilah’s clothes as she entered her small apartment.

As soon as she stepped inside, the scent of something delicious hit her nose.

She inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of spices and herbs that made her stomach growl with hunger.

After a long day at the café, it was exactly what she needed.

With a tired sigh, she dropped her bag lazily by the couch, her shoulders slumping in relief. She moved toward the kitchen, following the irresistible smell, already guessing who the culprit was.

She rounded the corner into the kitchen, and found her aunt, Mary Flynn.

Mary stood over the stove, stirring a pot of what smelled like her famous chicken stew.

Her aunt’s graying hair, always tied back in a neat bun, gleamed under the kitchen lights.

Despite her age, Aunt Mary had the energy of someone half her years and the warmest smile that could melt any stress away.

Mary glanced up and smiled warmly when she saw Delilah. "I knew you wouldn’t be cooking tonight, lazy girl," she teased, reaching up to peck Delilah on the cheek.

Delilah chuckled, leaning into the kiss. "You know me too well, Aunt Mary. I was going to cook… eventually."

Her aunt laughed heartily. "If I left it to you, you’d starve yourself before getting a meal ready. Someone has to keep you fed!"

Delilah grinned, unable to argue. She quickly washed her hands and moved to help. "Okay, okay, I admit defeat. Let me at least help finish this up."

Together, they worked in comfortable silence, the only sounds in the kitchen being the bubbling stew and the clatter of dishes as Delilah set the table.

After a few more minutes, they were done, and Delilah carried her plate to the dining room, her stomach rumbling in anticipation.

They both sat down, the dining room filled with the smell of the delicious food.

Delilah took a bite, humming in satisfaction as the flavors danced on her tongue. Aunt Mary’s cooking never disappointed.

As they ate, Aunt Mary glanced at Delilah, a thoughtful look on her face. There was a pause before she spoke.

"Delilah, there’s something I need to tell you," she began, her tone gentle but serious.

Delilah, mid-bite, glanced up curiously. "Go on," she said, chewing on a piece of chicken, too lost in the delicious meal to sense the gravity of her aunt’s words.

Mary smiled softly, then took a deep breath. "I’ve found a suitor for you. A good match."

The words landed like a bombshell.

Delilah froze, her spoon suspended in mid-air, eyes wide with shock.

For a moment, it felt like the room had gone completely silent, as if the air itself had stilled in disbelief.

"A… suitor?" Delilah repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, her mind racing.

She hadn’t expected this.

She glanced at Aunt Mary, who was watching her closely, waiting for a reaction.

The very word, Suitor made Delilah’s stomach twist.

"He's a nice guy," Mary said, her voice warm and encouraging. "And very handsome."

Delilah blinked and let out a small sigh, trying to collect her thoughts. "Aunt Mary," she began slowly, "I don’t think—"

Mary interrupted, her expression shifting from playful to concerned. "Delilah, I’ve noticed how you've been avoiding men. I understand after... everything." Her voice trailed off, eyes clouded with memories.

Delilah looked away.

She knew her aunt was thinking of her parents' death and the awful events that followed—the men she’d dated who had proven to be untrustworthy, leaving scars deeper than she liked to admit.

But not all men are like that, Mary believed. Not every man is like what you’ve faced, she wanted to say, but the words hung unspoken between them.

"I’ve been thinking about your future a lot, you know," Mary continued, her tone softening as she reached across the table to hold Delilah’s hand. "With your parents gone, it’s fallen on me to make sure you’re looked after. I may not be around much longer myself."

Delilah’s head snapped up. "Oh goodness, Aunt! Don’t talk like that. You’re not going to die of old age anytime soon." She squeezed her aunt’s hand affectionately. "You’re still young and full of life."

Mary chuckled, but the seriousness in her eyes didn’t waver. With a playful smack to Delilah’s hand, she added, "If I’m so young, then hurry up and get married while I’m alive, rather than waiting until I’m gone."

Delilah sighed, shaking her head but smiling faintly. She knew how much Mary cared, but this wasn’t what she wanted—not now, not like this.

"You’re my only family, Delilah," Mary continued softly. "I just want to know you’re happy and with someone who’ll take care of you. The suitor I found for you... well, his family has already approved. They think highly of you."

Delilah pulled her hand away gently, returning her focus to her food. She picked up her spoon again, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere, but her aunt wasn’t letting this go.

"Aren’t you at least interested in knowing about him?" Mary asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

Delilah didn’t even look up. "No."

Mary’s lips pressed into a thin line as she reached for her phone, pulling up something on the screen. "Well, maybe seeing him will change your mind." She turned the phone toward Delilah, showing a photo of the man she was talking about.

Delilah’s instinct was to look away, to avoid whatever trap her aunt had set, but as her eyes caught a glimpse of the man in the photo, her heart did a strange flip.

He was handsome—no, more than handsome. He was striking, the kind of man who could stop traffic with just one glance. His black hair was short but styled in that perfect, effortless way that suggested both discipline and rebellion.

His deep, dark grey eyes, almost charcoal, stared back with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat.

There was something about his sharp, firm features, the coldness of his expression, and the athletic build that hinted at power and control.

Delilah gulped, suddenly feeling uncomfortably warm.

She quickly set down her spoon again, her appetite vanishing under the weight of the image before her.

"He was handsome four years ago," Mary said with a knowing smile, "but he’s even more handsome now."

Delilah finished the last bite of her food hastily, her mind spinning.

She picked up her plate, pushing back her chair as she stood. "I’ll think about it," she muttered, heading for the kitchen.

Behind her, Mary’s playful voice followed. "Is that a yes?"

Delilah paused, half-turning with a shrug. "Maybe a yes."

She didn’t need to see her aunt’s face to know that her response had made her beam. Mary, ever the optimist, would take any sliver of hope and run with it.

"Thank the stars!" Mary exclaimed, her voice light with happiness.

Delilah escaped into the kitchen, setting her plate in the sink.

Her hands gripped the edge of the counter as she took a deep breath, trying to regain control of her racing thoughts.

The image of the man was etched in her mind, those deep grey eyes haunting her. She could feel her pulse thudding in her chest, the unwelcome flutter of attraction tightening her stomach.

But no. This wasn’t happening. She wasn’t going to let herself fall into another situation where emotions clouded her judgment.

She had no reason to trust anyone, let alone someone like him—handsome or not. She had dealt with enough to know better than to let herself get tangled in a mess of love, or worse, marriage.

She had managed to avoid every suitor her aunt had thrown her way before, and she would do the same this time.

Delilah wasn’t ready to give her heart to anyone, especially not someone who looked like they could break it without a second thought.

With a firm nod to herself, she washed her plate and resolved not to be swayed, no matter how cold and calculating—and devastatingly handsome—he appeared to be.