Treasured by Thursday

She excused herself to the ladies’ room, knew he was close behind, but detoured when she rounded the corner through a staff door. After pleading with an attractive young waiter, he helped her back into the main dining hall through another door, and she slid out of the venue.

Before long she was tucked back inside the limousine on her way back home.

The moment she arrived at her doorstep, she set her alarms, shut off all the downstairs lights, and retreated to her office.

Hunter Blackwell’s cell phone information was in his file. Instead of making him chase her, which she innately knew he would, she drafted a text before he could knock on her door.

Contracts require time to construct. I will contact you in the morning.

Within two minutes, his brief reply read, Until then.

It took some time, but she managed to find the offshore account Blackwell told her about.

How stupid of Alonzo to set up passwords associated with his birthday. Everyone knew not to do that.

Then again, the man was dead . . . his stupidity eventually killed him.

Over five million euros infused the account.

Worse, someone was depositing and removing money from the account one thousand at a time.

Mr. Alonzo Picano and Mrs. Gabriella Picano . . . the account held a name she briefly claimed.

She wanted nothing to do with the blood money but knew sending it to a charity, any charity, might suggest she was scared and running. Maybe even prove that she was using the account and evading taxes in her own country.

Like every time she backed out of an online account, Gabi shifted the sequence of numbers and changed the passwords. She moved to a second computer and started an international search of her name. And that of Gabriella Picano.

A name she never claimed publicly.

She typed slowly, feeling her hands shake as she reached the O in Picano, and paused.

A cold sweat started at the nape of her neck and down the back of her evening gown . . . a gown she’d yet to change, even hours after the fundraiser.

When she hit enter, she released a long-suffering breath.

He’s dead, Gabi, she told herself. He can’t hurt you now.

Chapter Five

She was screwed. Before falling into a fitful sleep, she’d found a second account under Gabi Picano, one smack in the thick of Colombia. This one had a steady stream of money coming and going. The infusion of funds correlated with the withdrawals of the larger offshore account, which led her to believe that they were tied. Whoever was playing with one account was playing with the other.

Gabi woke with the intention of dragging Samantha into her troubles, only to find a message on her cell phone telling her to take care of any and all Alliance needs. Jordan had been transferred to the ICU and everything Alliance had to wait.

When she lifted the phone to call her brother, she stopped herself. Val had fished her out of hot water once before. A mess she made by trusting the wrong person. If blowing off Blackwell and landing in prison would only affect her, she might consider taking her chances.

But it wouldn’t.

Alonzo had taught her that she could do nothing without it affecting everyone around her. Her trust in him nearly got her sister-in-law killed.

Instead of pulling in others to shovel her out of her past, Gabi decided it was time to dig herself out.

She brought up the boilerplate contracts Alliance used and started to modify them.

Two hours later she contacted the Alliance attorney and sent her an e-mail. Before Gabi could shower, Lori Cumberland called. “What in the world is this?” she asked in disbelief.

“It’s a contract.”

“A contract someone will actually sign?”

“Did I add something that’s illegal?” Gabi was fairly certain that every clause that had ever been placed in an Alliance contract was legal. She decided a few other conditions needed to be in writing.

“Not illegal . . . just . . . wow. Am I reading this right? This is between you and Hunter Blackwell?”

The thought of marriage made her shudder. “That’s correct.”

“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.