Treasured by Thursday
Page 54
Hunter sat forward again. “The point my wife is making, Frank, is simple. You know people . . . we know people . . . the difference is I have the capital to push this forward and start buying the land and all the rights. My reach is farther than yours.”
“Without me you have nothing.”
With a game face, Hunter said, “Without you . . . it will take longer.”
The table went silent.
“I need to protect my family,” Frank finally said.
Hunter sat back, inched closer to Gabi, and placed a hand on the back of her seat. “I understand that. Ten percent is steep. We can have our lawyers renegotiate the numbers until we’re both happy.”
Was this one of the reasons Hunter needed a wife? Was the ploy of understanding family his only goal?
If it was . . . how much money was the pipeline worth?
The question would wait.
The waiter was refilling their coffee when Hunter removed his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and glanced at the screen.
The agreeable expression on his face fell, and within five minutes he was wrapping up their time together.
“I will have my team call yours on Monday,” Hunter told Frank as he signaled the waiter.
“In a hurry all of a sudden?” Frank asked.
Yeah, something on the phone had pulled him far from Dallas.
When Hunter hesitated, Gabi lifted her napkin from her lap and laid her hand on top of his. With a practiced smile, she leaned in. “Forgive us. We are still newlyweds and Hunter has had to spend the week in New York while I’ve been stuck in LA.”
Minnie nudged her husband and offered a knowing grin. “You two go along then. We’ll take care of the bill.”
Hunter was already removing his credit card and handing it over.
While they waited for the credit to go through, Minnie asked. “How did you two meet?”
Hunter turned to her.
“At Starbucks,” Gabi said.
“Really? What are the chances of that?”
Hunter lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “Really high, if you drink coffee.”
Hunter’s head was buzzing with an approaching headache. He and Gabi rode in relative silence since leaving the restaurant. There were so many conversations he needed to have with her . . . none of which needed to begin in the back of a limousine.
“Where are you?” Gabi asked.
Good question. “Want the truth?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
He took a fortifying breath. “Somewhere between truth and redemption and purgatory and hell.”
“That’s quite a long road.”
As if on cue, the car pulled to a stop in front of their hotel and his multitude of confessions had to wait.
The two of them demanded attention as he guided her through the hotel lobby and into the elevator. Those eyes often turned into the flash of a camera after he stayed in a hotel for more than two nights. It wouldn’t be long until the media would follow Gabi everywhere she went. Especially once the news broke.
Gabi paused inside the door and removed her shoes.
Hunter went straight to the bar. “Want something?”
Gabi walked toward him, her shoes dangling from her fingers. “I don’t know . . . do I?”
He went ahead and poured her a vodka before shrugging off his jacket and sitting at one end of the sofa.
She followed his actions, dropped her shoes beside a chair, and sat. She tucked her feet under her and waited.
Where the hell was his tongue? He couldn’t wait any longer. The collision course in his life, the one that drove him to rapidly acquire a wife, was on him. More than that . . . the woman waiting patiently for him to open up was doing something inside him that he hadn’t expected.
He didn’t deserve her trust, her respect, but he was hell-bent on earning it.
“Tell me about your truth and redemption,” she said when he remained silent.
“I can’t do that without feeding purgatory and hell.”
“You have to start somewhere. Why not start with what caught your attention during dinner.”
He removed the phone from the jacket he’d carelessly tossed on the back of the couch, brought up the picture, and handed it to Gabi.
She leaned forward and took his phone. “Unless this was taken yesterday, I don’t see the problem.”
Gabi handed him back the phone.
“It was taken three months ago at a studio party. Her name is Sheila Watson.”
“You two look cozy.”
Hunter glanced at the image again, saw things Gabi didn’t.
“Looks can be deceiving. I’m not entirely sure how that picture was taken, but one thing is for sure, it was taken on purpose. Just like the others.”
“Others?”
He found the e-mail hidden in a folder and pulled up a handful of pictures that had started to arrive shortly after he’d met Sheila. Hunter once again handed her the phone and told her to scroll.
As Gabi looked at the many pictures, some more suggestive than others, her face was blank. “How long was your affair?”
The question alone was why he’d embarked on his dance to hell in the first place. “We didn’t have an affair. That isn’t me.”
Gabi lifted the phone closer and opened the pictures wider.
“My brother, Noah.”
“The one you don’t get along with.”
“Understatement, but yes.” Hunter swirled the ice in his glass, took a drink.
“Wow, you two really look exactly alike.”
“Our looks aren’t the only thing my brother is banking on. You see, he had an affair with Sheila.”
“Without me you have nothing.”
With a game face, Hunter said, “Without you . . . it will take longer.”
The table went silent.
“I need to protect my family,” Frank finally said.
Hunter sat back, inched closer to Gabi, and placed a hand on the back of her seat. “I understand that. Ten percent is steep. We can have our lawyers renegotiate the numbers until we’re both happy.”
Was this one of the reasons Hunter needed a wife? Was the ploy of understanding family his only goal?
If it was . . . how much money was the pipeline worth?
The question would wait.
The waiter was refilling their coffee when Hunter removed his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and glanced at the screen.
The agreeable expression on his face fell, and within five minutes he was wrapping up their time together.
“I will have my team call yours on Monday,” Hunter told Frank as he signaled the waiter.
“In a hurry all of a sudden?” Frank asked.
Yeah, something on the phone had pulled him far from Dallas.
When Hunter hesitated, Gabi lifted her napkin from her lap and laid her hand on top of his. With a practiced smile, she leaned in. “Forgive us. We are still newlyweds and Hunter has had to spend the week in New York while I’ve been stuck in LA.”
Minnie nudged her husband and offered a knowing grin. “You two go along then. We’ll take care of the bill.”
Hunter was already removing his credit card and handing it over.
While they waited for the credit to go through, Minnie asked. “How did you two meet?”
Hunter turned to her.
“At Starbucks,” Gabi said.
“Really? What are the chances of that?”
Hunter lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “Really high, if you drink coffee.”
Hunter’s head was buzzing with an approaching headache. He and Gabi rode in relative silence since leaving the restaurant. There were so many conversations he needed to have with her . . . none of which needed to begin in the back of a limousine.
“Where are you?” Gabi asked.
Good question. “Want the truth?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
He took a fortifying breath. “Somewhere between truth and redemption and purgatory and hell.”
“That’s quite a long road.”
As if on cue, the car pulled to a stop in front of their hotel and his multitude of confessions had to wait.
The two of them demanded attention as he guided her through the hotel lobby and into the elevator. Those eyes often turned into the flash of a camera after he stayed in a hotel for more than two nights. It wouldn’t be long until the media would follow Gabi everywhere she went. Especially once the news broke.
Gabi paused inside the door and removed her shoes.
Hunter went straight to the bar. “Want something?”
Gabi walked toward him, her shoes dangling from her fingers. “I don’t know . . . do I?”
He went ahead and poured her a vodka before shrugging off his jacket and sitting at one end of the sofa.
She followed his actions, dropped her shoes beside a chair, and sat. She tucked her feet under her and waited.
Where the hell was his tongue? He couldn’t wait any longer. The collision course in his life, the one that drove him to rapidly acquire a wife, was on him. More than that . . . the woman waiting patiently for him to open up was doing something inside him that he hadn’t expected.
He didn’t deserve her trust, her respect, but he was hell-bent on earning it.
“Tell me about your truth and redemption,” she said when he remained silent.
“I can’t do that without feeding purgatory and hell.”
“You have to start somewhere. Why not start with what caught your attention during dinner.”
He removed the phone from the jacket he’d carelessly tossed on the back of the couch, brought up the picture, and handed it to Gabi.
She leaned forward and took his phone. “Unless this was taken yesterday, I don’t see the problem.”
Gabi handed him back the phone.
“It was taken three months ago at a studio party. Her name is Sheila Watson.”
“You two look cozy.”
Hunter glanced at the image again, saw things Gabi didn’t.
“Looks can be deceiving. I’m not entirely sure how that picture was taken, but one thing is for sure, it was taken on purpose. Just like the others.”
“Others?”
He found the e-mail hidden in a folder and pulled up a handful of pictures that had started to arrive shortly after he’d met Sheila. Hunter once again handed her the phone and told her to scroll.
As Gabi looked at the many pictures, some more suggestive than others, her face was blank. “How long was your affair?”
The question alone was why he’d embarked on his dance to hell in the first place. “We didn’t have an affair. That isn’t me.”
Gabi lifted the phone closer and opened the pictures wider.
“My brother, Noah.”
“The one you don’t get along with.”
“Understatement, but yes.” Hunter swirled the ice in his glass, took a drink.
“Wow, you two really look exactly alike.”
“Our looks aren’t the only thing my brother is banking on. You see, he had an affair with Sheila.”
