Treasured by Thursday
Page 74
“Possible. What do you want me to do?”
She waved him off, stepped around his desk, and grabbed her purse. “Nothing. I’ll gather the numbers and call Officer Delgado back.”
“I can be home in twenty minutes if you need me.”
She paused at the door with a smile.
Andrew met her at the house, phone numbers in hand. Hunter was, above all things, efficient. Once she contacted Delgado and gave him the numbers he needed, she glanced at the other messages Andrew had taken for her for the day.
Meg called. Call her back.
Meg picked up on the second ring. “Hey, Mama,” Gabi teased.
There was no hello . . . no how do you do . . . just a quick and to-the-point question. “Hunter blackmailed you, didn’t he?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hunter clicked out of the video conference call with a huge sigh of relief. Travis had found the man embezzling his funds and was working with a team of undercover detectives to catch the man in the act. Hunter was about to give in and ask his wife for her savant help on his accounts, see if Gabi could narrow down the location of the missing funds tighter than his team had managed. Looked like now all he had to do was deliver the good news.
He was turning off his computer when Tiffany stacked yet one more unexpected interruption in his day, fifteen minutes before she was due to leave the office. “Sorry for—”
“Save it.”
Tiffany stepped to a paneled wall and opened a hidden door that housed a flat-screen television. “PR called, asked what you wanted to do about this.”
Hunter stood and waited for Tiffany to turn on the set and bring up the recorded feed someone on their team had captured.
The image of Gabi standing beside Sheila in what looked like a sworn enemy stance filled the top right of the screen. The reporter captioned the image with one statement. “The mistress and wife meet.”
The media had been a thorn for years. Now Gabi was feeling their claws.
The reporter went on . . . “Join us at seven for the exclusive interview with the day care worker who claims to be caring for Hunter Blackwell’s illegitimate son. Mr. Blackwell recently and quite unexpectedly married a Florida socialite . . .” The reporter continued to spew his tease for the evening segment.
Tiffany clicked off the set and waited.
“I need Ben Lipton on the phone. Tell PR no comment until I say otherwise.”
Tiffany hesitated, then put her feet in motion.
By the time he was off the phone with his private lawyer, Remington had left a message on his cell and his secretary in the New York office asked for his instructions.
On his way home, he stopped by the florist.
Gabi met him at the door with a smirk. “Flowers? How cliché.”
“You saw the news.”
She took the red and white roses from his hands and led a path to the kitchen. “Everyone saw the news. The phone hasn’t stopped ringing since I returned from your office.”
He studied her movements as she found a vase and filled it with water. He searched for any uncertainty in her actions and found none.
“Flowers from a cheating husband makes you look guilty,” she told him.
“And if anyone asks, the day Hayden became public knowledge I bought my wife flowers and came home early.”
“It’s after six.”
“Early for me,” he corrected himself. He shrugged out of his jacket and laid it on the back of a chair.
She picked the tiny sealed card from the floral spray and pointed it in his direction. “Good thing you’re taking me out for dinner.”
“I am?”
“You are. Meeting the mother of your son is exhausting,” she teased as she pulled at the edge of the envelope. Gabi’s teasing smile fell when she opened the check. “What’s this?”
He leaned a hip against the counter. “One million for every affair, alleged or proven.”
Her eyes narrowed and didn’t let his go. “I should cash this just to spite you.”
“A deal is a deal.”
“How many eyes do you have on him?” Gabi lay beside Hunter, her knee draped over his, her hand on his chest drawing circles.
“You’re asking about another man after that?”
She smacked his chest. “Hayden. How many eyes do you have on him?”
“My extended eyes are on Sheila and Noah.”
Gabi leaned up on her elbow and her gaze went cold.
Before he could utter a word, she leaned her naked body over his and fumbled with the phone on the side table. She shoved the phone into his face. “All eyes on Hayden.”
“Wha—”
“The entire free world was told, by the media, that you have a son. You want the free world to believe he’s yours . . . would you let your son have less protection than your wife?”
He sat up in the bed, as did Gabi. The sheet pooled around her waist, leaving a picture of beauty he had to ignore. “I have private investigators on Sheila and Noah . . . not bodyguards.”
Gabi placed a hand on her naked hip as she straightened her shoulders. “Why do you have bodyguards watching over me?”
“Someone out there could . . .” His words trailed off as the point she was trying to make drove home. “Shit.”
He tossed the sheet from his spent frame and shoved off the bed as he dialed. His head was so bent on the taking, he’d completely disregarded the target.
“MacBain.”
“I know it’s late,” Hunter told Neil as he made his way to his office. “I need eyes on . . .” the moment of decision was on him.
“On who?” It was late, but Neil’s voice was solid.
She waved him off, stepped around his desk, and grabbed her purse. “Nothing. I’ll gather the numbers and call Officer Delgado back.”
“I can be home in twenty minutes if you need me.”
She paused at the door with a smile.
Andrew met her at the house, phone numbers in hand. Hunter was, above all things, efficient. Once she contacted Delgado and gave him the numbers he needed, she glanced at the other messages Andrew had taken for her for the day.
Meg called. Call her back.
Meg picked up on the second ring. “Hey, Mama,” Gabi teased.
There was no hello . . . no how do you do . . . just a quick and to-the-point question. “Hunter blackmailed you, didn’t he?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hunter clicked out of the video conference call with a huge sigh of relief. Travis had found the man embezzling his funds and was working with a team of undercover detectives to catch the man in the act. Hunter was about to give in and ask his wife for her savant help on his accounts, see if Gabi could narrow down the location of the missing funds tighter than his team had managed. Looked like now all he had to do was deliver the good news.
He was turning off his computer when Tiffany stacked yet one more unexpected interruption in his day, fifteen minutes before she was due to leave the office. “Sorry for—”
“Save it.”
Tiffany stepped to a paneled wall and opened a hidden door that housed a flat-screen television. “PR called, asked what you wanted to do about this.”
Hunter stood and waited for Tiffany to turn on the set and bring up the recorded feed someone on their team had captured.
The image of Gabi standing beside Sheila in what looked like a sworn enemy stance filled the top right of the screen. The reporter captioned the image with one statement. “The mistress and wife meet.”
The media had been a thorn for years. Now Gabi was feeling their claws.
The reporter went on . . . “Join us at seven for the exclusive interview with the day care worker who claims to be caring for Hunter Blackwell’s illegitimate son. Mr. Blackwell recently and quite unexpectedly married a Florida socialite . . .” The reporter continued to spew his tease for the evening segment.
Tiffany clicked off the set and waited.
“I need Ben Lipton on the phone. Tell PR no comment until I say otherwise.”
Tiffany hesitated, then put her feet in motion.
By the time he was off the phone with his private lawyer, Remington had left a message on his cell and his secretary in the New York office asked for his instructions.
On his way home, he stopped by the florist.
Gabi met him at the door with a smirk. “Flowers? How cliché.”
“You saw the news.”
She took the red and white roses from his hands and led a path to the kitchen. “Everyone saw the news. The phone hasn’t stopped ringing since I returned from your office.”
He studied her movements as she found a vase and filled it with water. He searched for any uncertainty in her actions and found none.
“Flowers from a cheating husband makes you look guilty,” she told him.
“And if anyone asks, the day Hayden became public knowledge I bought my wife flowers and came home early.”
“It’s after six.”
“Early for me,” he corrected himself. He shrugged out of his jacket and laid it on the back of a chair.
She picked the tiny sealed card from the floral spray and pointed it in his direction. “Good thing you’re taking me out for dinner.”
“I am?”
“You are. Meeting the mother of your son is exhausting,” she teased as she pulled at the edge of the envelope. Gabi’s teasing smile fell when she opened the check. “What’s this?”
He leaned a hip against the counter. “One million for every affair, alleged or proven.”
Her eyes narrowed and didn’t let his go. “I should cash this just to spite you.”
“A deal is a deal.”
“How many eyes do you have on him?” Gabi lay beside Hunter, her knee draped over his, her hand on his chest drawing circles.
“You’re asking about another man after that?”
She smacked his chest. “Hayden. How many eyes do you have on him?”
“My extended eyes are on Sheila and Noah.”
Gabi leaned up on her elbow and her gaze went cold.
Before he could utter a word, she leaned her naked body over his and fumbled with the phone on the side table. She shoved the phone into his face. “All eyes on Hayden.”
“Wha—”
“The entire free world was told, by the media, that you have a son. You want the free world to believe he’s yours . . . would you let your son have less protection than your wife?”
He sat up in the bed, as did Gabi. The sheet pooled around her waist, leaving a picture of beauty he had to ignore. “I have private investigators on Sheila and Noah . . . not bodyguards.”
Gabi placed a hand on her naked hip as she straightened her shoulders. “Why do you have bodyguards watching over me?”
“Someone out there could . . .” His words trailed off as the point she was trying to make drove home. “Shit.”
He tossed the sheet from his spent frame and shoved off the bed as he dialed. His head was so bent on the taking, he’d completely disregarded the target.
“MacBain.”
“I know it’s late,” Hunter told Neil as he made his way to his office. “I need eyes on . . .” the moment of decision was on him.
“On who?” It was late, but Neil’s voice was solid.
