Treasured by Thursday (Weekday Brides Series Book 7) (28 page)

“The woman is crazy.”

Lori tilted her head and stared. “Let me paint this picture a little more clearly. Blackwell wanted a wife to demonstrate to the court what a stable married man he was . . . and he’s working hard to find fault with the child’s mother to gain full custody.”

“She wants money. She doesn’t care about the baby.”

“Is that what she told you . . . or him?”

Gabi opened her mouth. Closed it. Then muttered, “I trust him.”

Lori pointed directly at her. “That’s your first mistake.”

“You don’t know him.” There was a little less defense in Gabi’s tone.

“No, you’re right, I don’t know him. But I know his type. He’s rich, arrogant, and will stop at nothing to get what he wants. Men like him bend the law, bribe the law . . . seduce it even, to reach their goals. You went into this contract cold and detached, Gabi. I suggest you find that woman and bring her back if you want to walk away a whole person. Don’t let Blackwell do to you what Picano did.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Gabi stared at her lawyer and knew the woman gave sound advice.

Not that Gabi wanted to hear it.

Back inside the car, Solomon reached inside the glove compartment and removed a small box. “Neil had this made,” he told her. “And he wants you to wear it at all times.”

She opened the lid and found a locket on a silver chain. “Why would Neil be buying me jewelry?”

Solomon laughed as he pulled out into traffic. “It’s a GPS device. As much as one of us will be glued at your side, there are times, like today, where you’ll be out of our sight. I meant to give it to you earlier. Sitting in the lobby reminded me that you didn’t have it on.”

She placed it over her head and looked at the simple design. Fiddling with the latch didn’t result in opening it.

“It doesn’t open.”

“Oh.” Overkill. From bodyguards to lockets.

“It’s merely a tracking device, right? It doesn’t record what I’m saying?”

Solomon offered a shake of his head. “Nope. Just GPS. It’s waterproof, too. So you can shower with it.”

With a shrug, Gabi tucked the locket under her shirt and focused on the passing landscape and the barrage of people surrounding them . . . people who weren’t wearing tracking devices or traveling with an armed bodyguard at their side.

The morning visit to his office was met with a subpoena from Sheila requesting Hayden’s child support. Seems the woman was moving forward faster than Hunter could run.

Hunter sat across from Ben Lipton and his team of family law attorneys.

“She has to consent to a paternity test,” Ben told him.

Hunter already had one. Underpaid staff in the clinic Sheila was taking Hayden to had no problem supplying saliva for a little money.

“The test will prove I’m the father,” he told them. “Your job is to use the information I give you to obtain my complete and exclusive custody.”

“As I told you before, she has to be unfit to care for her son. Your stability and proof positive that Hayden is your son will only grant you partial custody. Child support will be inevitable.”

“The woman wants a payout, not the title of mother.”

The lawyers glanced at each other. “She will appoint a paternity testing doctor, and we’ll have ours. That will buy us forty-eight hours to find something on her that’s unfit.”

“You have the reports from my investigators.”

“An antidepressant isn’t a smoking gun. And she hasn’t seen a doctor for anything psychological in five years. She might not provide well for Hayden, but she does have him with adults when she’s not by his side.”

“Incompetent adults.”

“Which makes
them
liable,
not
her,” Ben told him.

The attorney on Ben’s left sat forward. “She’s not expecting you to take her son. She might come back fighting.”

“She’s only in this for the money. Dangle a check, she’ll take it.”

Ben crossed his arms over his chest. “How can you be so sure?”

Hunter knew the lawyers were obligated to keep his secrets. So he gave them what they needed. “Because Hayden isn’t my biological son. I never slept with Sheila Watson . . . my brother did.”

A collective sigh went through the room.

“And if your brother seeks custody?”

“He can try. Once Sheila proves I’m the father, and I confirm it, Noah will have nothing to support his claim. If he tries, I’m sure you men can make his case disappear.”

A few nods were knocked back and forth.

Hunter stood to leave. “Call me with the doctor we’re using. Gabriella and I will be here on Friday for the hearing.”

“If I can push the court that quickly,” Ben said.

Hunter offered a cold stare.

Ben lifted his hands. “I’ll make it happen.”

“That’s better. Good day, counselors.”

Before he left the room, he heard someone whisper, “And I thought Christmas with my family sucked.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Gabi sat on the sofa, her legs curled up under her as the twinkling of Christmas lights added a glow to the room.

Lori’s words had haunted her all day.

Was she making the same mistakes? Was she trusting the wrong man? If Hunter was capable of bribing the law, seducing it . . . was he doing the same to her? All his mutterings of not being good enough for her infused her with power in their relationship. Was it false power? Was his seduction of her an extension of getting what he wanted?

He wanted Hayden . . .

Or maybe he just wanted to stick it to his brother.

Lori’s other words . . . the ones not spoken bothered her, too. What if Hayden really was Hunter’s son? Perhaps the woman in the mall was fighting for the rights of her son.

Gabi hated the doubt running like a crazy person in her head.

The alarm on the gate sounded, signaling Hunter’s return. She saw the lights of the car, heard the front door open and close. His footsteps hesitated when he entered the room.

“Gabi?”

She didn’t answer, just picked at the fringe of the throw pillow in her lap.

He approached slowly until he was standing close enough to take in the scent of his skin. The scent that had seduced her from the first day they met.

He knelt down until he was eye level with her. “What happened?”

“I visited my lawyer today . . . you remember Lori Cumberland.”

“How could I ever forget Ms. Cumberland?” he asked with a half smile.

Gabi didn’t smile back. “I told her about the insurance policy, about the international accounts.”

Hunter lost his smile and sat in the chair to her side. “I told you I’d take care of that.”

Gabi lifted her chin. “I didn’t see a need to wait.”

“Now’s not the time.”

“That’s similar to what she said.” Gabi kept her eyes glued to Hunter’s. “Did you know how difficult it was going to be to clear my name
after
I became your wife?”

There wasn’t an ounce of emotion on his face.

Something inside her died. “Jesus.” She tossed the pillow from her lap and stood.

Hunter jumped to his feet and grabbed her arm, keeping her from fleeing the room. “I didn’t know you, Gabi.”

“And you were willing to use the information you had to blackmail me, knowing damn well I could still end up in jail for something I didn’t do.”

He moved closer and she pulled from his grasp. “You won’t go to jail. I’ll see to it.”

“How are you going to do that, Hunter?”

“We’ll pay the insurance company back.”

“It’s not that simple. You knew that long before you showed up in the back of my limousine.”

His jaw grew tight. “Yes. I knew that.”

“When were you going to start working on clearing my name?”

He looked past her. “Once I gained custody of Hayden. We’ll clear your name then.”

She colored herself all kinds of fool. “Once you have what you’re in this for.”

“None of that was hidden from you,” he told her.

“And nothing has changed. With everything between us . . . nothing has changed. You get Hayden and I end up in jail.”

He looked at her then, anger close to the surface of his stance. “You really believe that?”

“I don’t know what to believe, Hunter.”

He took two swift steps and reached for the back of her head. His kiss was hard, demanding . . . just like the man. Damn her for responding even in her anger. She desperately wanted to believe in him, but she couldn’t.

Not blindly.

Never again.

She pulled away and brought a hand to her lips before she turned and fled the room.

His tie hung loose around his neck, ice cooled the bourbon in his glass. The lights of the Christmas tree, the only one he’d had since he was a kid, filled the room.

Gabi had finally stopped crying.

Every tear was a knife in his side, every sob . . . and he had nothing to offer as support. He didn’t trust himself to go to her, tell her she was wrong about him. When in fact, she wasn’t.

When he’d first learned of the insurance fraud and the foreign account, he assumed she was guilty of more than trusting the wrong person. A beautiful, artful woman batting her lashes to get what she wanted in life. He blackmailed her before he knew her.

Even when he learned more, he still kept himself slightly detached.

Get Hayden.

Deny his brother of everything.

Then Gabi struck again, where he never expected.

The Christmas tree mocked him.

“There you are.” Andrew walked in the room, took in the half-empty decanter of bourbon, and frowned. “Busy?”

“Not now, Andrew.”

Andrew sat, uninvited.

“I mean it.”

“Fire me.”

“You’re fired.”

Andrew simply laughed. “When are you going to slow your personal life down and think before you act?”

Hunter didn’t comment, merely studied the ice melting in his glass as Andrew went on.

“You’re brilliant in business. You turn blades of grass into dollar bills; always capture the flag before the opposing team. Something tells me, however, that on your report card in school, it stated,
does not play well with others
.”

“Why are you still sitting here?”

“Because I’m the only one who will. If you don’t start exercising patience, you’re going to be one lonely, bitter, albeit rich, old man. Sound like someone you know?”

“I’m not my father.”

“I’m thinking of a tree and an apple right about now. Funny thing about clichés, they are all true.”

Hunter finished the rest of his drink and set the glass aside.

“You have a unique opportunity with a woman who has a heart the size of Texas. You’re about to bring a child into your home who is going to need more than a bitter old man raising him. You have the world a snap away and you’re blowing it.”

Hunter fixed his eyes on the only person in his life willing to talk to him this way. “I blew it before I began.”

“Then you need to do what every other red-blooded man out there does. Find some damn duct tape and fix it.” Andrew took to his feet and started to leave the room.

Hunter stopped him.

“Why do you care if I fix anything?”

Andrew looked around the room. “I want the solo title of bitter old man.”

Hunter smiled at that.

“And the tree is a nice touch.”

He walked out of the room, leaving his wisdom behind.

“So Blackwell wants to be a daddy . . . how perfect.” Diaz tapped the table in thought. Of all the useless information he’d obtained by listening to the Blackwell’s conversations, this one would pay off.

“This is going to be easier than I thought, eh, Raul?” Diaz snapped his fingers. “I need those pictures.”

“Pictures, what pictures?”

“Picano sent you pictures before he ended up dead. Blackmail-worthy pictures. I think a few were of his wife.”

Raul shrugged and twisted back to the computer.

Diaz had to give the dead guy credit. He covered his tracks when it came to Gabriella. Marry her, put the money in her name, make her look as guilty as he was . . . have dirt on her . . . string her up. Had the man lived, he would have walked far enough to run until the law couldn’t find him.

Damn shame he ended up with a chest full of lead.

Screws up anyone’s day.

It took Raul a good hour to find and hack into the images.

Diaz flipped through the pictures, held the one with Gabriella Blackwell holding her arm out for a hit. Nothing better than an image of Blackwell’s wife banging up caught on film. “Perfecto.” There were others . . . but the most damning was the one of an imperfect socialite in the throes of a drug-induced high. The picture was worth a few million if Blackwell wanted to keep it from the judge deciding his eligibility to hold sole custody of his son. Diaz nodded Raul’s way. “Now I need you to find the life insurance company Picano used. I need his policy number, a name of an agent . . . everything.”

Raul sniffed, shot both index fingers in the air, and started typing.

Later, Diaz pulled his cigar from his lips, sucked in the smoke, and blew it out slowly. He had everything he needed, and soon he’d have Hunter Blackwell’s balls in his hand. The man had a couple of important decisions in front of him.

His son . . . his wife . . . or his money.

Gabi didn’t know which room Hunter slept in, but it wasn’t hers. She woke the next morning with bloodshot eyes and a headache to kill all others. She’d managed to come to a conclusion somewhere around two in the morning.

The bed she made was her own. She’d chosen Alonzo and all his false advertising. She’d decided to marry Hunter instead of bringing her troubles to the doorstep of her family. She’d consciously and quite willingly begun a physical relationship with her temporary husband. The emotional attachment wasn’t something she had expected, but somewhere between fall and winter, her heart started to crack and Hunter took hold.

He said he couldn’t be trusted and didn’t deserve her. He freely admitted he was using her, and yet she’d hoped that something had changed inside him as it had her.

How had Lori put it? To come out of this marriage whole, she’d have to find the cold and detached part of her that had entered into it.

Only as she showered and attempted to hide the circles under her eyes, the image in the mirror was of a broken woman, not a cold one.

She squared her shoulders and added one layer at a time. Moisturizer, something to block the circles . . . a layer of armor disguised as foundation. A blush of confidence she was going to have to fake until it felt natural. Her eyes, the best asset she had, were going to have to pop today. An uplifting swirl of liner and a thick coat of mascara were equivalent to a clown painting on a smile. The dark plum lipstick completed her cosmetic arsenal. She piled her hair on her head with a teasing strand or two lying on her neck.

Hunter liked it down . . .

She’d wear it up.

Gabi stepped into the walk-in closet and dropped her robe. Every inch of clothing had a job other than what the tailor intended. Her underclothing made her smile; even more when she knew Hunter would like them but never see them.

The sexual part of
them
was over.