“Dramatic.”

“It was built by a musician.” He popped her eyes by naming one of Canada’s most successful vocalists. “I bought it not long after I met you, actually.”

“Did he let it go for a song? I couldn’t resist.” She bit her lip again.

“He did not.” He didn’t crack a smile.

She sighed inwardly. Did he blame her for his best friend moving on his bride? Was he concerned that any hope he’d had of salvaging the business side of his marriage to Eden was now circling the drain?

“After the court case was over, I was ready for a change of scenery. Vi is in Calgary so I was planning to make that my home, but this came up. Then I spent three weeks out of four back east so I was planning to unload this and make Toronto my home again.”

Because of Eden.

“You might prefer something closer to your father. We can talk about it as time goes on. That’s salt water,” Hunter said of the pool, continuing his tour. “Home theater.” He moved to a windowless room at the back. It sat twelve in three rows of four recliners. “Gym.” He opened and closed a door on a room full of equipment.

“Nanny suite.” He flicked a wrist toward the back corner as he crossed behind the bar. “This is my office.”

It took up the corner and was enormous. Two sets of French doors and a plethora of windows looked onto a garden that was in full bloom. The interior wall contained shelves filled with books and awards and art pieces. His desk was a shiny slab of ribbon-grained wood across two blocks of marble that were so big, she suspected the house had been built around them.

His phone rang so she said, “I’ll leave you to it.”

She took Peyton back upstairs, wondering if Hunter had bought this thinking he would raise his family here. The top floor held three bedrooms, all with walk-in closets and full bathrooms. One room was a nursery, and she thought the big one on the far end was the master since it had such a lovely view, but the closet only held a guest robe.

She went to the other end of the hall andthiswas the master. The walk-in closet here was a dressing room. It was lined with sliding doors and held a wall of shoe shelves, and there was a round upholstered bench in the middle. There was even a tailoring platform placed before a trifold mirror in the corner.

“I’m starting to think we’re not in Goderich anymore,” she whispered to Peyton.

The bathroom was as extravagant as everything else with French doors leading onto a private veranda and a massive shower that looked more like a sci-fi transportation device with nozzles and buttons and glass. In a bowed window, a jet tub invited her to relax and contemplate her life choices.

Amelia was questioning them. Big-time. Misgivings had been creeping in at every turn. While they’d been in Toronto, she’d been in shock, not fully appreciating Hunter’s wealth until they had married and she had climbed aboard his private jet.His. Vienna had one, and there was a corporate one as well. In Banff, she had fallen into an illusion that she was visiting an all-inclusive upscale resort. It was a nice place to visit, but it wasn’t her life. No one actually lived like this.

Except Hunter.

And her?

Things grew even more surreal as the day wore on. People arrived. She met her personal assistant and her West Coast stylist. The housekeeper asked her questions about menus, and a prospective nanny arrived.

Amelia had chatted with the agency a few times through the week, shortlisting résumés, but it hadn’t hit her that the decision to hire someone would rest with her—as it should, but it still freaked her out. She barely felt qualified to be a mother. Suddenly she found herself interviewing an accomplished woman her own age who had a degree in early childhood education, held a lifeguard certificate, and was fluent in English, French, Punjabi and Spanish, “Because my last family spent their winters in Mexico.”

Matinder was not only more highly educated than Amelia, she was more prepared for Hunter’s lifestyle.

Amelia introduced her to Peyton, who loved her, and Hunter, who asked questions around whether Matinder was prepared to travel internationally and whether she had pediatric first aid. She did. Of course she did. She had also worked briefly with a toddler who was hearing impaired. She knew basic ASL that she said would be useful for Peyton before she became verbal.

They arranged for her to start the following day.

“Because we have that party tomorrow night,” Hunter added.

What party? Amelia recalled her PA asking if she wished to accept the invite while her stylist had promised to pull a few outfits together. She had told them to ask Hunter whether they would attend. Apparently, he had said yes.

Great, she thought with dread.

Hunter was still withdrawn at dinner, and Amelia thought a few times that she ought to try harder to discover how he was feeling about his best man marrying his bride. She kept thinking that if she couldn’t bring sophistication and social cachet to this marriage, at least she could offer him emotional support.

He didn’t seem to want that, so she began to quietly hyperventilate. Until now, all the pressure on her had been from the outside. Paparazzi followed them and people judged her, but she was mostly able to shrug it off because they didn’t know her.

Tomorrow, however, she would have to step into a role that was completely foreign to her. When she organized a dinner or spoke at a fundraiser, she would make missteps and be critiqued on her decisions and actions.

No wonder he had wanted to marry someone like Eden. Amelia was going to embarrass him as badly as his stepmother had, and she wouldn’t even do it on purpose.