Once the last staff member had left, and only Andrew and Hunter remained, Gabi collapsed into the sofa.
“Miss Tiffany was escorted home. Her car is in the garage,” Andrew announced. “Unless you need me, I’ll retire,” he said.
Gabi glanced at her distant husband. “Good night,” Hunter said.
“Thank you, Andrew.” Gabi said.
With a slight tip of his head, Andrew offered a smile and left the room.
Hunter moved behind his bar and poured a splash of something stronger than champagne.
Without words, he stood beside the massive window overlooking LA. The tension in his body radiated.
“Are you going to tell me what I did wrong or be ticked all night?”
Instead of answering, he took a long drink and continued to stare out the window.
“Everyone loves you.”
She lowered her glass to her lap. “Wasn’t that the point of tonight? Introduce me . . . have your colleagues support my place in your life?”
He finished his drink.
Not a good sign.
She set her unfinished wine to the side and stood. “I’ll call a car to take me home.”
“No!”
She jumped.
“We just announced you as my wife. You leaving here tonight isn’t possible.”
The cold walls of the modern space started to close in. Hunter must have realized how he sounded and pulled back.
“Good God, Gabriella, I’m not going to attack you. Sit.”
The couch became a better option than hitting the floor.
“I have a spare room,” he told her. “You can sleep there. Tomorrow we’re leaving for the weekend.”
Her heart started a rapid ascent and her breathing quickened. “Leaving?” She stood again, her head spun.
“A weekend away. A honeymoon. We need to—”
On some level she knew Hunter was still talking, but Gabi’s head soared to a completely different time . . . different place.
“A weekend away . . . I need to make up to you all the time I’ve been away.” Alonzo stood beside her, his smile genuine. “I want to reconnect with my fiancé.”
She kissed him knowing the staff wasn’t anywhere close and he wouldn’t object.
Her stomach twisted and an all too familiar rush washed over her, hot . . . needy. “More . . . please.”
Gabi felt the pinch of her skin. Felt the drug take hold . . . and she hit the ground.
Hunter dropped the glass in his hand, jumped over the table, and still only managed to catch Gabi a few inches before she hit the floor.
“Gabi?”
She was out. Her eyes rolled back, her face pale.
“Andrew?”
He lifted her onto the couch, careful with her head. “Andrew!” he yelled.
Half dressed, Andrew rushed into the room. “What happened?”
“Cold washcloth.”
Andrew fled to fill his request.
He was an ass . . . he’d scared her with a few words. The strong woman he’d seen traversing the room all night couldn’t possibly be the same one passed out in his arms.
Hunter felt three shades of awful.
Andrew emerged, thrust a cold washcloth into his hands.
Hunter ran it over Gabi’s forehead. “C’mon . . . wake up.”
They both hovered over her.
Andrew started to squirm. “Should I call nine one one?”
Hunter placed his fingers to her throat, felt a steady, albeit rapid, pulse and shook his head.
“Gabi? Wake up.” He leaned his head close to hers, felt her breath on his cheek. “Please.”
He was a breath away from telling Andrew to call when she started to stir.
Hunter dropped his forehead to hers. All the energy he’d placed in his anger diffused.
Her eyes fluttered open, but the blank look beyond her eyes told Hunter she was still lost.
The moment fear entered her gaze, Hunter drew his frame back but kept his hands on her shoulders to keep her from jumping again. “Are you OK?”
Her nose flared as she attempted to draw in a deep breath. Gabi looked beyond him to Andrew and blinked. “What happened?”
“You passed out.”
Her lower lip started to tremble, she kept looking between the two of them as if uncertain what had happened. Her voice wavered. “Can I get a glass of water?”
Andrew didn’t hesitate.
Hunter softly stroked her bare shoulders and waited for her color to return. When Andrew returned, Hunter helped her sit. She took the water and closed her eyes when she drank it.
“Thank you,” she managed.
“Can I get you anything, Mrs. Blackwell?”
“No, Andrew. I’m s-sorry to worry you.”
Hunter ignored the look of concern on Andrew’s face as he disappeared around the corner.
Gabi set the glass aside and attempted a smile.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
She shook her head. “No. No, I’m not.” She pushed away from him and his hand fell from her shoulder. “I won’t go anywhere alone with you, Hunter. Not yet, anyway.”
All this was because she feared being alone with him? “I gave you my word I wouldn’t hurt you.”
“I want to believe you.”
“Then do.”
“It’s not that simple. My head tells me that lightning won’t strike twice, but there’s no guarantee.” She was shaking again and Hunter had a strong desire to pull her into his arms.
“What lightning is that? What did he do to you?”
Doubt filled her face. “I can’t . . . I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, Gabi. We’re in this for the next year and a half. How am I going to know what words to be careful of using if you don’t tell me what happened?”
The words were there . . . hanging between them. Her dark eyes searched his.
“Why did you need to get married?”
So this was how it was going to go. Give to get.
He offered a crumb. “My brother has resurfaced.”
Confusion marred her brow.
“My twin. Word is he’s posing as me.” Again . . .
“So I’m a built-in alibi?”
Hunter shook his head . . . not willing to give more without a few answers from her. “What did he do to you, Gabi?”
She paused, swallowed hard. “He used me. Shred my dignity.”
Not happy with her ambiguous answer, he asked, “How?”
“He pretended to love me and used my brother’s island to traffic drugs.” Her face lost color again.
“And he hurt you.” It wasn’t a question.
She nodded and looked away. There was more to her story . . . but he didn’t push.
He took a chance and gathered her hands into his. “I’m not him, Gabi. Arguably, I am using you . . . but you know the score, and in the end, we will use each other. I don’t trust easily, either. My brother is only part of why I needed a bride.”
“What else?”
It was Hunter’s turn to divert the conversation. “Are you ready to tell me the whole story behind your late husband?”
She winced.
That’s what he thought. “We both have our secrets. Maybe in time we can share them. For now, I need you to trust that I won’t hurt you. I won’t let anyone else harm you, either.”
“I still can’t leave with you.”
His mind scrambled. “What if you picked where? I need the world to know we’re married. If we don’t escape for even a few days, there will be some who guess the truth.”
Her eyes traveled to the ceiling as if it held the answers. “I haven’t been home more than overnight since . . .” She struggled for words. “Since Alonzo’s death.”
“Your brother’s island?”
“Yes.”
Jaw dropping, he said, “You want me to willingly go to your brother’s world? The man threatened my life.”
For the first time
since she fainted, Gabi offered a tiny smile.
Hunter’s blood warmed.
“Only if you hurt me. And since you’re not going to do that, you don’t have to worry.”
He was still holding her hands when she squeezed them.
“The Florida Keys?”
She nodded.
How bad could it be? “OK.”
Chapter Twelve
Somewhere over Texas, enjoying his second midflight drink . . . there was no way in hell he was doing the Keys completely sober . . . Hunter stretched his feet out in front of him and interrupted Gabi as she thumbed through the pages of a book.
“I’m growing on you,” he said as if they were in the middle of a conversation.
She glanced over without lifting her head, then returned her eyes to the book. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“You haven’t told me to jump in front of a bus for at least twenty-four hours.”
A ghost of a smile appeared and quickly fell away.
“I can’t exactly wish your pilot to plunge to the earth while I’m on the plane, now can I?”
“You didn’t poison my breakfast.” Hunter emerged from his morning shower to the scent of food cooking in his kitchen. Considering neither he nor Andrew could fry an egg, it was amazing to find Gabi dishing up oatmeal pancakes and scrambled eggs for the three of them.
She flipped a page. “I’m rather fond of Andrew. Nice man. Not sure what crime he committed to be working for you.”
“I’m growing on you,” he declared again.
She grunted, kept reading.
“You kissed me.”
She dropped her hands holding the book and gave him her complete attention. “Your ego is monstrous.”
He shrugged. “True, but you did willingly place your lips on mine.”
“It was the wine.” She picked her book back up, shifted in her seat.
“You had one glass the entire night.”
“Your guests expected it. I delivered. Get over yourself, Hunter. On my brother’s island, no one will expect anything.”
Gabi had explained the privacy of Sapore di Amore. Cell phones weren’t allowed, though Hunter had no intention of turning his over. The island was the Vegas of the Florida Keys. What happened on Sapore stayed on Sapore. The exclusivity of the guest list and the screening that went into every guest assured privacy so that playboys could play . . . and wives could cheat. According to Gabi, about half the guests were there for private trysts, and the other half simply wanted privacy. No paparazzi, and celebrities avoided fans bothering them for pictures every second of their stay.
“And I had two glasses.” Gabi’s declaration brought Hunter back into their conversation.
He thought of her odd reaction to him handing her the champagne and had to ask. “Why the switch of the glasses?”
The muscles on her arms tightened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.”
She didn’t answer . . . instead she asked a question. “Why do you hate your brother?”
“I don’t hate Noah.”
“His name is Noah? Noah and Hunter . . . interesting.”
Their names had always been the oxymoron of his life. “Why the switch of the glasses, Gabi?”
She dipped her head into her book and hesitated.
“He slipped drugs into my wine.”
Holy hell. She didn’t have to elaborate on who he was. “That’s sick.”
She turned the page much too quickly.
“That’s an insult to those who are ill. He knew what he was doing.” She muttered something in Italian, shook her head.
One step forward, Hunter mused. He asked a direct question, gave one answer in return. Maybe they could make it a year and a half after all.
She flipped a page. “Remind me to show you where to cliff dive on the island.”
It was his turn to grin. “Shark-infested waters?”
She smiled, offered a noncommittal shrug. “Never know.”
Gabi had only been on the island for Val and Meg’s wedding. She couldn’t stomach more. Her therapist told her it was completely normal to associate the island with the man who betrayed her. Most of their time together was on Sapore.
During Gabi’s previous visit, she asked to stay in a bungalow. Not willing to walk into the private rooms she called hers, the rooms she shared with him.
It killed her that Alonzo had taken away her home. The safe place she should always feel free to return to was destroyed by a dead man. Maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.
But as Hunter’s pilot called back into the cabin, asking them to take their seats and prepare to land, Gabi felt her palms sweat. How did palms sweat anyway? There weren’t any glands in them to speak of.
Hunter moved from the plush full-size couch he’d been lounging on most of the flight to the seat beside her. He gathered her hand and squeezed. As much as she wanted to shake him off, she couldn’t. And for some reason that brought a wave of emotion over her.
“When was the last time you were here?” he asked.
“Early spring. When my brother married.”
He looked over her to the sea below.
“You spent time here with him, didn’t you?”
She offered a nod, felt words clogging in her throat.
Hunter was alone in his thoughts for a moment. “Do you believe in ghosts?”
“Anything is possible,” she told him.
The plane started its descent, her ears popped. Would Alonzo’s spirit be on the island . . . along with her memories?
“I’m not one to give up control in my life, Gabriella. But I want you to know, here, on this island, if you need me to do anything for you, I will.”
She knew his declaration was rare. She squeezed his hand.
“Maybe not the cliff dive . . . but other than that.”
Laughter bubbled, she couldn’t help it. “You said anything.”
“I might have you taste all my food before I eat it.”
“Happy to. Val’s chef is beyond this world.”
“I look forward to it. I couldn’t tell you the last time I took a vacation.”
“Too busy moving your money around the Monopoly board?”
“More like the game of Risk.”
Hunter’s personal flight attendant walked toward them. “We’re clear to land, Mr. Blackwell.”
The plane bounced, then glided along the pavement. Hunter’s distraction took away the anxiety that rested in her bones since they’d taken off.
She stood and eased the lines in her pants with the palms of her hands.
Hunter waited, patiently. She fisted her clutch in her hands, knew the staff would deliver their luggage at some point.
The flight attendant opened the hatch, bringing in a wave of moist Caribbean heat.
The pilot walked through the narrow door from the cockpit. “I hope your flight was enjoyable,” he told them.
“Perfect,” Gabi told him.
Hunter lifted his hand. “Wait on my earlier request.”
The pilot offered a nod and stood back as they exited the plane.
Most days, the Florida Keys held cloudy skies, hot with the occasional sprinkle, but today was pleasantly clear, giving the air a little less humidity than Gabi expected.
Hunter hesitated at the door, made a show of looking out. “Doesn’t look like anyone is carrying a rifle.”
Gabi clasped his hand and dragged him out of his world and into hers.
Val stood between her mother and Meg. His back was rod straight, his suit perfectly pressed. Meg offered an enthusiastic wave, her sundress blowing behind her, her short blonde locks hardly contained by the clip in her hair.
Her mother watched, first with watchful eyes on Hunter that seemed to travel slowly between them and then back. Those narrow eyes filled and a smile emerged.
With open arms, Gabi let loose Hunter’s hand and ran into the embrace of her mother. “I’ve missed yo
u,” Gabi said in Italian.
“You’re too thin,” her mother said with little malice.
Val stood to the side, his eyes never leaving Hunter, while Meg moved in for the next hug.
“Hey, you!”
“Look at this tan. You look amazing.”
“Good food, great se—”
Gabi’s mother clicked her tongue before Meg could say the word sex, and they both started to laugh. “Grandbabies, Simona . . . grandbabies.”
“Stop seeing that doctor and taking those little pink pills . . . then you can talk about your sex life.”
Gabi wondered if Hunter was getting any of their conversation.
She turned, found him in a staring contest with her brother.
Gabi broke it off, pushing herself between their lines of sight. “No kiss for your sister?”
Val blinked her way, his face softened. “I’m pleased you’re here, even with that bastard.” His words were in Italian.
“He’s not that bad,” she found herself defending in their first language.
Val grumbled.
“Welcome to Sapore di Amore, Mr. Blackwell.” Meg was quick with the agreeable conversation.
“Hunter, I’d like you to meet my mother, Simona Masini.”
“I feel as if I know you after our conversation on the phone.”
Phone? What? “You two have talked?”
Hunter offered a grin. “We came to an understanding.”
She attempted to gain her mother’s attention and failed.
“I see where Gabi acquired her thoughtful eyes.”
Another man might say . . . good looks . . . beauty . . . no. Hunter went with the eyes. The one feature she and her mother shared without a shadow of a doubt.
Val stepped in, obviously uncomfortable. “I’m sure my sister has informed you of the rules of the island.” He lifted his hand, palm up. “Your phone, Blackwell.”
Gabi wasn’t sure how this was going to go. One alpha male to the other.
“I’m here for Gabi,” Hunter said. “Nothing else.”
Val kept his hand extended.
Gabi turned to her temporary husband. “Trust needs to be earned. Please.”
His gaze shifted.
He fished his phone out of the inside pocket of his suit and handed it over. “If the names Tiffany or Bridget flash, I need to know.”
Meg huffed.
“His secretaries,” Gabi found herself defending him a second time.
Treasured by Thursday (Weekday Brides Series Book 7) Page 11