Or maybe he just wanted to stick it to his brother.
Lori’s other words . . . the ones not spoken bothered her, too. What if Hayden really was Hunter’s son? Perhaps the woman in the mall was fighting for the rights of her son.
Gabi hated the doubt running like a crazy person in her head.
The alarm on the gate sounded, signaling Hunter’s return. She saw the lights of the car, heard the front door open and close. His footsteps hesitated when he entered the room.
“Gabi?”
She didn’t answer, just picked at the fringe of the throw pillow in her lap.
He approached slowly until he was standing close enough to take in the scent of his skin. The scent that had seduced her from the first day they met.
He knelt down until he was eye level with her. “What happened?”
“I visited my lawyer today . . . you remember Lori Cumberland.”
“How could I ever forget Ms. Cumberland?” he asked with a half smile.
Gabi didn’t smile back. “I told her about the insurance policy, about the international accounts.”
Hunter lost his smile and sat in the chair to her side. “I told you I’d take care of that.”
Gabi lifted her chin. “I didn’t see a need to wait.”
“Now’s not the time.”
“That’s similar to what she said.” Gabi kept her eyes glued to Hunter’s. “Did you know how difficult it was going to be to clear my name after I became your wife?”
There wasn’t an ounce of emotion on his face.
Something inside her died. “Jesus.” She tossed the pillow from her lap and stood.
Hunter jumped to his feet and grabbed her arm, keeping her from fleeing the room. “I didn’t know you, Gabi.”
“And you were willing to use the information you had to blackmail me, knowing damn well I could still end up in jail for something I didn’t do.”
He moved closer and she pulled from his grasp. “You won’t go to jail. I’ll see to it.”
“How are you going to do that, Hunter?”
“We’ll pay the insurance company back.”
“It’s not that simple. You knew that long before you showed up in the back of my limousine.”
His jaw grew tight. “Yes. I knew that.”
“When were you going to start working on clearing my name?”
He looked past her. “Once I gained custody of Hayden. We’ll clear your name then.”
She colored herself all kinds of fool. “Once you have what you’re in this for.”
“None of that was hidden from you,” he told her.
“And nothing has changed. With everything between us . . . nothing has changed. You get Hayden and I end up in jail.”
He looked at her then, anger close to the surface of his stance. “You really believe that?”
“I don’t know what to believe, Hunter.”
He took two swift steps and reached for the back of her head. His kiss was hard, demanding . . . just like the man. Damn her for responding even in her anger. She desperately wanted to believe in him, but she couldn’t.
Not blindly.
Never again.
She pulled away and brought a hand to her lips before she turned and fled the room.
His tie hung loose around his neck, ice cooled the bourbon in his glass. The lights of the Christmas tree, the only one he’d had since he was a kid, filled the room.
Gabi had finally stopped crying.
Every tear was a knife in his side, every sob . . . and he had nothing to offer as support. He didn’t trust himself to go to her, tell her she was wrong about him. When in fact, she wasn’t.
When he’d first learned of the insurance fraud and the foreign account, he assumed she was guilty of more than trusting the wrong person. A beautiful, artful woman batting her lashes to get what she wanted in life. He blackmailed her before he knew her.
Even when he learned more, he still kept himself slightly detached.
Get Hayden.
Deny his brother of everything.
Then Gabi struck again, where he never expected.
The Christmas tree mocked him.
“There you are.” Andrew walked in the room, took in the half-empty decanter of bourbon, and frowned. “Busy?”
“Not now, Andrew.”
Andrew sat, uninvited.
“I mean it.”
“Fire me.”
“You’re fired.”
Andrew simply laughed. “When are you going to slow your personal life down and think before you act?”
Hunter didn’t comment, merely studied the ice melting in his glass as Andrew went on.
“You’re brilliant in business. You turn blades of grass into dollar bills; always capture the flag before the opposing team. Something tells me, however, that on your report card in school, it stated, does not play well with others.”
“Why are you still sitting here?”
“Because I’m the only one who will. If you don’t start exercising patience, you’re going to be one lonely, bitter, albeit rich, old man. Sound like someone you know?”
“I’m not my father.”
“I’m thinking of a tree and an apple right about now. Funny thing about clichés, they are all true.”