Treasured by Thursday(24)

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 hiccupped, 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.”