“Why did you need to get married?”
So this was how it was going to go. Give to get.
He offered a crumb. “My brother has resurfaced.”
Confusion marred her brow.
“My twin. Word is he’s posing as me.” Again . . .
“So I’m a built-in alibi?”
Hunter shook his head . . . not willing to give more without a few answers from her. “What did he do to you, Gabi?”
She paused, swallowed hard. “He used me. Shred my dignity.”
Not happy with her ambiguous answer, he asked, “How?”
“He pretended to love me and used my brother’s island to traffic drugs.” Her face lost color again.
“And he hurt you.” It wasn’t a question.
She nodded and looked away. There was more to her story . . . but he didn’t push.
He took a chance and gathered her hands into his. “I’m not him, Gabi. Arguably, I am using you . . . but you know the score, and in the end, we will use each other. I don’t trust easily, either. My brother is only part of why I needed a bride.”
“What else?”
It was Hunter’s turn to divert the conversation. “Are you ready to tell me the whole story behind your late husband?”
She winced.
That’s what he thought. “We both have our secrets. Maybe in time we can share them. For now, I need you to trust that I won’t hurt you. I won’t let anyone else harm you, either.”
“I still can’t leave with you.”
His mind scrambled. “What if you picked where? I need the world to know we’re married. If we don’t escape for even a few days, there will be some who guess the truth.”
Her eyes traveled to the ceiling as if it held the answers. “I haven’t been home more than overnight since . . .” She struggled for words. “Since Alonzo’s death.”
“Your brother’s island?”
“Yes.”
Jaw dropping, he said, “You want me to willingly go to your brother’s world? The man threatened my life.”
For the first time since she fainted, Gabi offered a tiny smile.
Hunter’s blood warmed.
“Only if you hurt me. And since you’re not going to do that, you don’t have to worry.”
He was still holding her hands when she squeezed them.
“The Florida Keys?”
She nodded.
How bad could it be? “OK.”
Chapter Twelve
Somewhere over Texas, enjoying his second midflight drink . . . there was no way in hell he was doing the Keys completely sober . . . Hunter stretched his feet out in front of him and interrupted Gabi as she thumbed through the pages of a book.
“I’m growing on you,” he said as if they were in the middle of a conversation.
She glanced over without lifting her head, then returned her eyes to the book. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“You haven’t told me to jump in front of a bus for at least twenty-four hours.”
A ghost of a smile appeared and quickly fell away.
“I can’t exactly wish your pilot to plunge to the earth while I’m on the plane, now can I?”
“You didn’t poison my breakfast.” Hunter emerged from his morning shower to the scent of food cooking in his kitchen. Considering neither he nor Andrew could fry an egg, it was amazing to find Gabi dishing up oatmeal pancakes and scrambled eggs for the three of them.
She flipped a page. “I’m rather fond of Andrew. Nice man. Not sure what crime he committed to be working for you.”
“I’m growing on you,” he declared again.
She grunted, kept reading.
“You kissed me.”
She dropped her hands holding the book and gave him her complete attention. “Your ego is monstrous.”
He shrugged. “True, but you did willingly place your lips on mine.”
“It was the wine.” She picked her book back up, shifted in her seat.
“You had one glass the entire night.”
“Your guests expected it. I delivered. Get over yourself, Hunter. On my brother’s island, no one will expect anything.”
Gabi had explained the privacy of Sapore di Amore. Cell phones weren’t allowed, though Hunter had no intention of turning his over. The island was the Vegas of the Florida Keys. What happened on Sapore stayed on Sapore. The exclusivity of the guest list and the screening that went into every guest assured privacy so that playboys could play . . . and wives could cheat. According to Gabi, about half the guests were there for private trysts, and the other half simply wanted privacy. No paparazzi, and celebrities avoided fans bothering them for pictures every second of their stay.
“And I had two glasses.” Gabi’s declaration brought Hunter back into their conversation.
He thought of her odd reaction to him handing her the champagne and had to ask. “Why the switch of the glasses?”
The muscles on her arms tightened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.”
She didn’t answer . . . instead she asked a question. “Why do you hate your brother?”
“I don’t hate Noah.”
“His name is Noah? Noah and Hunter . . . interesting.”