Treasured by Thursday (Weekday Brides Series Book 7)

“I despise you,” she muttered.

 

He lifted a hand, indicated the chair at her side. “A fact that we will both recognize and speak of freely . . . when we’re alone. In public, I expect a reserved wife who accepts a casual touch and even a smile.”

 

“What kind of touch?” She hated asking.

 

“I won’t maul you.”

 

She sat across from him, comfortable with the desk separating them.

 

The despicable man was a stranger . . . he unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat before sliding his chair closer to his desk. He’d yet to look at the contracts.

 

“Why are you really doing this?”

 

“I’ve already told you—”

 

“Beggianate!”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Gabi took delight in her ability to speak a language he couldn’t. “I don’t believe you. Your explanation is trivial at best. It’s one of the many reasons Alliance rejected your application.”

 

He lifted one brow. “Yet here you are . . . contract in hand.”

 

She closed her eyes, sucked in a breath, and calmed her nerves. When she opened them again, Gabi found him watching her.

 

A wave of something resembling concern passed over his eyes before he said, “As soon as the contracts are signed, and we’re married, I have a team of lawyers and investigators ready to move on your case.”

 

“And if they find me guilty?” she asked.

 

That left a smirk on his face. “They’ll find a way to exonerate you.”

 

Such an ass.

 

“It doesn’t bother you to believe you’re marrying a woman with a history of killing a wealthy husband and collecting after his death?”

 

He smiled for the first time since she entered his office. “You’re stunning in black.” His eyes swept her frame before returning to her face. “But I don’t think you’re a black widow.”

 

It was her turn to grin. “Mating before killing isn’t necessary.”

 

He laughed when she was hoping to intimidate.

 

I need to work on that.

 

Before he could comment, the phone on his desk buzzed.

 

Hunter lifted the receiver, listened. “Let him in.”

 

Gabi stayed seated as Hunter introduced one of his lawyers.

 

Ben Lipton was a personal attorney who’d been given enough information to know that Gabi wasn’t in Hunter’s life because of a romantic relationship.

 

He shook her hand and took the contracts to the opposite side of the room to read.

 

“Can I get you something to drink, Gabi?”

 

Hearing her name from Hunter’s lips wouldn’t sit well for some time. “Tea.”

 

He buzzed Tiffany, placed her request.

 

The silence in the office was broken by the door opening and the tea setting being placed on the table.

 

Tiffany glanced between the three of them and left in silence.

 

Mr. Lipton would occasionally lift an eyebrow, glance Gabi’s way, then return to the contract.

 

When the man finally finished, he evened out the pages and stacked them on the table. “Have you read this?” he asked Hunter.

 

“That’s why I have you.”

 

Mr. Lipton was in his fifties . . . his salt-and-pepper hair and starch-filled suit would label him as sophisticated. He had kind blue eyes, but if he was in business with Hunter, Gabi believed he couldn’t be trusted.

 

“Then let me spread before you Miss Masini’s terms.”

 

“I’m listening.”

 

Gabi sat back and heard her words spoken through Hunter’s lawyer.

 

“Your contract is for eighteen months. At which time divorce proceedings will begin without contesting from either side or the entire contract is forfeited and no money will exchange hands.” All that was standard.

 

“The agreement is for twenty-four million, one million for each month of marriage, and one million for every estimated month it will take for the divorce to be final.”

 

Gabi met Hunter’s eyes. The amount was triple the normal contract.

 

He didn’t bat an eye.

 

“Continue.”

 

“As your wife, she insists on a new residence, one in keeping with your current lifestyle with no possibilities of a previous woman having ever been in attendance.”

 

There was a smirk . . . maybe even a little admiration behind his eyes.

 

“Continue.”

 

“If the marriage lasts eighteen months, she wants five years in the home you purchase before selling and splitting the profits. If the home loses money, you will pay the difference.”

 

There was no doubt now . . . he was smiling.

 

“Continue.”

 

Ben shook his head.

 

“Any extramarital affair going public . . . assumed or proven, will cost one million per affair.”

 

That made him pause. “Really, Gabi?”

 

“I hate being made a fool.”

 

He shook his head, rolled his fingers in the air. “Continue.”

 

“In the event of any criminal charges being brought against Miss Masini, your marriage will continue until she has been freed of all charges, to which all funds will continue as promised. All legal expenses to exonerate Miss Masini will be paid for by you.”

 

Hunter tilted his head. “Touché.”

 

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