“The zillionaire Hunter Blackwell?”
“Not sure about the zillion . . . but yes. I need to know if the conditions I added can be held up in court.”
To render a lawyer speechless left a certain smile on Gabi’s face.
“He’d be stupid to sign this.”
“Or desperate.”
Lori paused. “Does Sam know about this?”
“Her sister is really ill, Lori. She asked that I handle the Blackwell account.”
“I don’t think that means you have to marry the man. From what I hear, he’s an ass.”
Gabi smiled for the first time in hours. “An ass that will have me handing it to him if he violates our contract. Is it legal?”
“I need to modify a few words, but yeah. Wow.”
“Glad you approve.”
Lori sighed. “Approve? I’m impressed. I didn’t consider you the shrewd one. Make sure I’m invited to the wedding.”
Gabi doubted a ceremony was forthcoming. “I need to get these to Blackwell before noon. Can you modify and send them back?”
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Me, too,” she muttered before hanging up.
The tight black dress stopped above her knees, her black stockings had beads up the back that turned heads when she passed. Tall and slender had always been a gift to Gabi, she used it now by adding an extra four inches with her stilettos. Her hair was slicked back in a simple knot.
With her back straight, Gabi walked up to the ground floor security, expecting her first delay.
When she mentioned her name, they waved her through and escorted her to a bank of elevators. She stepped in and ignored the looks around her.
Blackwell Enterprises held the entire top floor of the building, making the reception space larger than the ground floor of Gabi’s home.
She commanded attention as she walked to the desk. The receptionist offered a brilliant smile.
“Miss Masini for Mr. Blackwell.”
The smile stayed and the twentysomething model-perfect woman blinked. “Right away, Miss Masini. I’ll call Tiffany.”
Gabi ignored the roll of tension down her spine. Walking into the office had been too easy.
She turned away from the desk, hoping to hide her nerves. The entire way into the city, she questioned her decision. Then again, Blackwell would probably shred her contract.
The quick, steady click of heels slowed as they approached. “Miss Masini?”
Gabi turned and couldn’t help but smile.
“I’m Tiffany, Mr. Blackwell’s personal secretary.”
The introduction instantly had Gabi envisioning a very personal position between Hunter and the lovely woman beside her. She was luscious, beautiful, and appeared too innocent to be hooked up with the likes of Hunter. Gabi felt an instant desire to shelter the younger woman from the evil man.
“Hello, Tiffany,” Gabi managed.
“Mr. Blackwell is expecting you.” Tiffany turned back into the thick of the office and led the way.
Gabi lifted her chin and ignored the glances as she walked through. The sheer amount of attention her presence created as she rounded the corner made it clear that Hunter didn’t often have personal calls to his place of work.
Somehow, that pleased her.
Tiffany stepped through a set of doors that opened to a large reception space complete with couches and magazines . . . and a desk that would engulf the one Gabi had at home.
Tiffany approached a set of sleek double doors and knocked. Without waiting, she opened one and stepped aside.
Gabi knew her practiced smile left, briefly . . . then she squared her shoulders and walked in.
Hunter stood behind a black desk that held a computer, a phone, and a pen. Behind him was a wall of windows overlooking the city. The space was completely masculine down to the leather couches, the simple art . . . the bar on the far end of the office.
Their eyes met . . . locked, and he stared.
There was a spark behind his gray eyes that screamed of his success by her walking in his door.
He’d won and he knew it.
“That will be all, Tiffany. Let me know when Ben arrives.”
“Yes, Mr. Blackwell.” Tiffany closed the door behind her.
He made a slow path around his desk. “I assume you had no trouble with security getting up here.”
Gabi approached, set her purse in one of the empty chairs. “The ease of my entrance smacks of arrogance.”
“Yet here you are.”
Could she hate the man any more?
Keep your enemies close.
Instead of debating with him, she removed the contracts from her purse and slid them across his desk. “I took the liberty of adding a few conditions . . . in light of our personal situations.”
He didn’t bother a glance at the papers. “I’m sure we can work out whatever you might have come up with.”
So arrogant.
“You’re going to find your condescending words to be a mistake, Mr. Blackwell.”
“Hunter, Gabi . . . my name is Hunter.”
She wasn’t sure what shook her more, the fact that he’d instantly put them on a personal level by the use of his first name, or the fact that he’d used her nickname.