“I don’t want to date. I don’t want that in my life, Meg. This is easier. People will think I’m normal and I can move on.”
“Beg to differ with ya, Gabi . . . but it’s perfectly normal for you to tell guys to bug off after what you’ve been through. But getting married instead of dating isn’t exactly a sound act.”
“There’s nothing remotely romantic about our relationship. It’s all business. Trust me.”
“I have little choice, don’t I?”
“It’s my life.”
Gabi heard Meg muffle the receiver of the phone. “Well, look who just walked in.”
“Val?”
“Yeah.”
Gabi closed her eyes. “OK. Wish me luck.”
“All the luck isn’t going to make this easy.”
Valentino Masini was a self-made man, owned his own island with an exclusive resort he built from nothing.
The sound of Val’s voice made the knot in her chest tighten. “The look on Margaret’s face tells me there is trouble, what is it, tesoro?”
“No trouble . . .” Not if you removed the facts. She slowly delivered the information she needed to.
I signed a contract.
The marriage is temporary.
Yes, we’ve already gotten married.
No, I’m not crazy.
“I know you’re not pleased, Val. Just try and understand I needed to do this.”
Her brother’s silence sliced through her.
“What is this man’s name?” Val’s question was cold.
“Hunter Blackwell.”
Her brother’s voice softened to tell her he loved her. Then he cut the conversation short.
Meg took up the receiver and reported that Val had opened a bottle of whiskey. “I’ll talk to him,” Meg said.
“I really am OK,” Gabi told her.
“We’re just worried.”
“I know. I’m sorry for that.”
They said their good-byes and Gabi sent Hunter a text.
My family has been notified.
Gabi’s text arrived at eight in the morning, Hunter spoke with the real estate agent during his lunch, and Tiffany was sitting in his office a hair after four thirty working on a guest list for a special announcement for later in the week. Thursday . . . a week from their actual wedding would be perfect. And then he was taking the weekend off.
“And what announcement is this?” Tiffany asked as she jotted down notes on his expectations of the event. “I didn’t think the Adams agreement was solidified.”
“It’s not business,” he told her. “It’s personal.”
Tiffany stared. “You don’t hold personal events.”
“I do now.”
The portable phone in Tiffany’s hand rang, she answered it. “Mr. Blackwell’s office. Hold on.” Tiffany dropped the phone. “A Mr. Masini to see you?”
Mister? Gabi’s brother. “That didn’t take long. Tell him to come up.”
Tiffany told security and stood.
“We will need privacy, Tiffany. Please hold my calls.”
Hunter didn’t have a sister and couldn’t imagine how he would react if he’d found out his had agreed to a marriage for money.
Not well, he decided.
Defuse and deflect. Assure her safety . . . smooth it over.
The man walking into his office could blow so much.
Valentino Masini wasn’t a small man. He wore a suit, ruffled and worn after what must have been a lightning flight across the country. His dark eyes held a death stare that would intimidate most. Hunter found strength in the other man’s gaze and held it.
Tiffany quietly walked out of the room, leaving the two of them staring at each other.
“Mr. Masini.” Hunter didn’t offer a handshake.
“Why Gabriella?”
Just business, much like his sister.
Hunter dropped his hand. “She said yes.”
“Gabi would never do this willingly.”
Maybe the brother knew more than most.
“I assure you, she did.”
“Your assurance means nothing.” Valentino took two more steps into the office, kept his voice deathly low. “She doesn’t need your money, doesn’t need your home, and doesn’t trust men. Her agreeing to your contract is completely outside of her character.”
“Perhaps you don’t know your sister as well as you think.”
Masini clutched his fists at his sides.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Hunter was about to assure the man that Gabi was safe with him, when his temporary brother-in-law delivered a threat Hunter hadn’t seen coming.
“If you hurt her . . . one hair . . . I will kill you.”
Kill? Not, come after you . . . make you regret it . . . but kill?
“Don’t you have a new wife that would be disappointed if you landed in jail for murder?”
“My wife would be standing in line to finish the job should I fail,” Masini told him. “And she’s an excellent shot.”
The hair on the back of Hunter’s neck started to rise.
“You have a lot of nerve coming into my office and threatening me.”
The other man looked as if he was ready to charge. “My sister may be an easy target, but I am not.”
Hunter opened his mouth to counter and heard voices beyond his office door.
Gabi sailed into the room, her eyes brushing over his before they landed on her brother. Her hands were in the air, her voice on fire. “What are you doing here?” she yelled.
Tiffany stood back, eyes wide.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t come?” Masini yelled back.
“What’s done is done, Val.” Gabi glanced around the room and switched languages so fast it took Hunter a minute to realize she had. She said something to her brother in a heated tone.
He yelled back, just as heated.
Hunter was lost. Italian wasn’t a language he’d cared to learn. Perhaps it was time he hired a tutor.
He exchanged glances with Tiffany, who kept her distance but watched.
Gabi argued something and moved to Hunter’s side of the room. That’s when he realized her hair was down. Her hands flew, her hair flew . . . she wasn’t happy her brother was there, but unlike the quietly angry woman she was with him, with her brother, she screamed and yelled. She was incredibly beautiful this way . . . unleashed.
She said something with the name Alonzo and Masini abruptly changed his tone.
Hunter didn’t understand the words, but Masini’s anger started to fade.
That’s when Gabi lifted her left hand and placed her right one on Hunter’s arm. “You’re too late,” she said in English. “We’re already married.”
Masini spit out one more string of Italian before running a hand through his hair.
The silence in the room was broken by Tiffany. “You’re married?”
So much for keeping things quiet until Thursday. “That’s all, Tiffany,” Hunter said, dismissing her.
Gabi grasped the ends of her hair and pulled it over her shoulder. “Go home, Val. Live your life and let me live mine.”
Val shook a hand in the air. “One hair, Blackwell. One hair.” Before taking his leave, Val pulled his sister into a desperate hug and all the anger seemed to simmer away. Well, between the two of them, in any event. Masini shot daggers with his eyes, killing Hunter where he stood.
“I love you, tesoro. You know where to find me.”
Then he left.
Gabi collapsed in his office chair and her shoulders folded in. For a few seconds, Hunter thought he had a crying woman on his hands . . . then he realized she wasn’t weeping . . . she was laughing.
He leaned against his desk and felt a chuckle deep in his gut. “That was very entertaining.”
She started laughing harder, and it was impossible to sit there without feeling it grow and erupt inside him.
“He threatened my life,” Hunter told her.
Gabi hiccu
pped, wiped tears from her eyes.
Hunter laughed. “It wasn’t funny.”
She was doubled over now, finding the humor for the both of them.
He walked to the private bathroom in his office and brought her some tissues. She thanked him, wiped her face, and continued to laugh.
“If my mother . . .” She started to laugh again. “My mother shows up, you might want to duck.”
“What, she’ll throw a chair at me?”
“Let’s hope that’s all.”
Hunter watched as Gabi took hold of her laughter. She was radiant in her designer jeans and button-up shirt. The loose hair flowing over her shoulders looked like silk. No wonder her brother was so protective of her. He must have had his hands full watching over her all her life. The men must have flocked, like ducks to a pond.
“Do you always fight like that?”
“In Italian?”
“That and the yelling.”
Gabi shrugged. “It was a fight. He shouldn’t have come. Though it warms my heart that he cared enough to do so.”
Hunter shook his head. “I’ll never completely understand women.”
“I would hope not. Where would be the mystery in life if we understood the opposite sex completely?”
“Mystery should be about the prize in the cereal box, not a question as to what weapon your family is going to come at me with.”
That had Gabi laughing again. “Well if you’d just jump in front of a bus, we wouldn’t have these concerns, now would we?”
She made him smile again as she stood to leave. “I ditched the real estate agent. Probably should get back to the search.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
“That isn’t necess—”
“By now most, if not all of my office staff, has heard of our marriage. Letting you leave alone not only speaks of trouble, it will suggest the rumors are wrong. We’re married, and it’s time to practice some of your acting skills.”
She offered a short nod, and to her credit didn’t flinch when he placed a hand to her back and walked her out of his office.
Tiffany lowered the phone and stood as they walked by.
Hunter didn’t spare a glance, where Gabi offered a smile and silently walked beside him.
It was close to five, but it didn’t seem any of the staff left even a minute early. Hunter ignored the looks and continued to the elevators.
“Everyone is staring,” Gabi whispered close to his ear.
“They’re all trying to figure out who you are. Hold your head up.”
She stiffened her spine and walked into the elevator. They were silent beside the other passengers as they slowly made their way to the ground floor of the building.
Still eyes lingered, he felt them, knew Gabi did, too.
He noticed his car parked with the emergency lights flashing. The Aston suited her . . . elegant, classy.
“Mr. Blackwell.” The doorman moved to the car. “I was about to call your office.”
“No need, Benny. I assume you’ve met.” Hunter looked between Gabi and the doorman to the office.
“Not really. I ran in,” Gabi told him.
Hunter moved closer to the woman at his side and smiled. “Well then, Benny, this is Gabriella Blackwell, my wife.”
Surprise took over the irritated look on Benny’s face.
“Feel free to have the valet take care of the car in the future.”
Benny nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Hunter walked Gabi around to the driver’s side and opened the door.
When she attempted to move around him, he blocked her path. “Try not to jump,” he whispered.
“Excuse me?”
Using the hand lingering on her back, he pulled her close and lowered his lips to hers.
Shock registered in her eyes. She couldn’t back away, the car was there to stop her, but she didn’t push.
He kept his hold loose, didn’t want to scare her.
Her full lips were soft, the scent of her skin and the exotic floral aroma of her hair were something he’d think about long after she left.
“Relax, Gabi.”
Hunter felt her effort. Watched as her dark lashes fluttered closed.
He placed a hand to the side of her face and tilted her head back. Her lips parted enough for a brief, intoxicating taste.
The tight rein of control Hunter always had on his emotions, his desires, started to unwind. He pulled away, almost as abruptly as he’d begun their kiss.
Their eyes locked.
Gabi sucked in her bottom lip.
Hunter ran his thumb over her chin, coaxing her lips apart. “I’ll call.”
Her throat constricted with a swallow, and she slid out of his arms and into the car.
Hunter moved to the curb and watched her pull away.
“Was it awful?” Meg asked over the phone.
Gabi called her the minute she pulled into the parking lot of the real estate agent’s office.
“I’m just happy Hunter doesn’t understand Italian. Val threatened bodily harm with a half a dozen weapons.”
“He’ll calm down. He’s worried.”
“I know. But for my sake, make him go home. The last thing I need is him hovering over me.”
“I’ve already booked his flight. He’ll be back here tomorrow.”
“Good. Thank you.”
Gabi lowered the visor and looked in the mirror. The smudge of her lipstick reminded her of Hunter’s unexpected kiss.
“Can I ask you something?” Meg asked.
“Of course.”
“Why now . . . why Hunter Blackwell?”
“I told you . . . the offer was—”
“Too good to pass up, I know. But there have been many clients that have come along that had reputations ten times better than Blackwell’s.”
Gabi ran a finger under her lip and paused. “Alonzo had a better public reputation than Blackwell. At least with Hunter I know he’s in this for his own personal gain. He’s using me with my full knowledge. There’s nothing clandestine or silent about the man, and for some strange reason that comforts me.” As the words left her lips, Gabi realized how true they were. For better or worse, she knew where she stood with Hunter.
He was using her, and she in turn would walk away a rich, and more importantly, free, woman.
“It’s not going to take long for word to spread. From what I’ve learned about Blackwell, he’s one of the most eligible bachelors in this decade. There’s going to be a lot of ticked-off women out there.”
“He’s not eligible anymore.”
“It won’t stop the gold diggers from calling. Watch your back.”
Gabi hadn’t really thought about the women in Hunter’s life. Not for a minute did she believe that he’d taken himself off the marital block to simply end the pursuit of unwanted women. “I will.”
“I should go. Your mother has been in the kitchen cooking since you called this morning. At this rate, I’ll be gaining ten pounds before the end of the week. What is up with her feeding her emotions?”
“It’s an Italian thing.”
“Great. It’s going to be a fat thing. Once you’re settled in your new wifely role, you better invite your mom to visit.”
“I don’t know about—”
“Do you want her chucking pasta at your new husband in front of his employees? Because she’s already made threats.”
The image of Hunter covered in marinara sauce made her grin.
“Give us a couple of weeks.”
“I’m booking flights.”
Gabi grumbled and said her good-byes.
Two weeks to set up house and learn to be civil enough in a room with Hunter to convince her mother the man she’d married wasn’t going to hurt her.
Next to his morning coffee, Andrew set a tabloid on top of the New York Times. The caption said it all. Billionaire Playboy Off the Market.
One grainy photo was of him walking into the complex that housed his curre
nt LA residence; the other was of Gabi on the phone standing outside of the real estate office. The only solidifying factor to the magazine was the blown-up image of Gabi’s left hand. Too bad someone didn’t manage a money shot of their kiss. He’d like to see the expression on her face through a lens. Bewildered . . . just as he’d been by his own reaction. He’d risked bodily injury touching her, and yet she hadn’t pushed him into oncoming traffic, nor had she connected her knee with more sensitive parts of his anatomy. He wouldn’t say that she kissed him back, but there was something there. Something very unexpected by the both of them.
The click of a tongue brought Hunter’s attention around the room.
Andrew held a pot of coffee and waited for Hunter to sit back so he could pour.
Instead of moving away, Andrew stood over him. “Any pressing news your valet needs to know?”
Hunter sipped his coffee and smiled over his cup.
“Yes, actually. We’re going to be moving soon.”
Andrew lifted an eyebrow and waited.
“To a house.”
“Is that right?”
“Hmm . . .” he took another sip and placed the tabloid aside. “I need you to change a name on the registry.”
“What name would that be?”
“Gabriella Blackwell.”
“Long-lost family member?” Andrew asked, knowing full well there were no such entities out there.
“New family member. The tabloids have it right, Andrew. I married Miss Masini last week.”
Andrew blinked and uttered, “In the old movies, the butlers and maids knew everything that happened in a household, yet here I stand in the dark.”
Hunter picked up his coffee and folded the paper under his arm. “You’re going to like her. Sassy with a hot temper.” The image of her fighting with her brother brought a smile to his lips. “And beautiful.”
“Beauty doesn’t go far with an old man.”
Hunter tapped the edge of the paper on Andrew’s shoulder. “Good thing I’m not old.”
Andrew’s eyes followed him as he exited the room.
Fish in a bowl, cells under a microscope . . . and Hunter as a married man had many things in common.
He ignored most of the looks and peered past the distant cameras as he walked into his LA office.
Tiffany was the only one brave enough to say anything. “The phone hasn’t stopped ringing since I walked in. Should I call a news conference?”
Treasured by Thursday (Weekday Brides Series Book 7) Page 7
