Gabi felt her bottom lip curling in and forced the nervous habit away.

With her hand wound in a tight knot in her lap, she watched his slow descent.

Samantha’s tutelage ran through her like a tape. Another mantra, one easier to remember, came from her sister-in-law, Meg . . . fake it till you make it.

Gabi held Mr. Blackwell’s immediate future in her hands. She had something he wanted, and that empowered her.

At least it should.

“Mr. Blackwell.” Gabi didn’t bother standing . . . a slightly intimidating tactic Samantha had taught her.

“Miss Masini.” His smooth voice was an octave below most.

She felt her heart speeding for entirely different reasons.

“Please, sit.” Gabi indicated the chair beside her and forced a smile.

Hunter Blackwell unbuttoned his jacket and took a seat.

“I took the liberty of ordering you coffee,” she told him.

Gabi glanced at the barista behind the counter and returned her eyes to the man in front of her.

“And if I don’t care for coffee?”

So that’s how this was going to be. Gabi felt her pulse slow . . . slightly. “A temp . . . I believe her name was Natalie, said you drank three cups, black, every morning before you took your first call. You appear to be a man who cuts the fluff, Mr. Blackwell.”

He smiled, showing a divot in his chin.

“Coffee it is then.”

Gabi signaled the barista.

For a brief moment, they spoke of the traffic, the warm day.

Once the employee left the coffee on the table, Mr. Blackwell took his obligatory sip and settled into his chair.

“So how do we proceed?”

Gabi glanced at her watch . . . set her internal timer.

“I’m in the business of matching people, Mr. Blackwell. No one slips through our proven system.”

His left eye twitched. “I’m listening.”

Whether Hunter Blackwell knew it or not . . . that was his only warning. “Have you ever been arrested?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.

“Care to elaborate?”

He shook his head. “I assume Blake’s wife found all she needed in that file.”

She had. The man had been arrested, released, and charges dropped a minimum of four times. Two in the last few years, two more before he was eighteen. The man knew Gabi had done her research, so she moved on.

“Have you ever hit a woman?”

“No.” His answer was quick and difficult to dispute.

“Ever wanted to?”

He paused. “I saw a woman leave her child in a hot car once . . . the thought occurred to me. Other than that, no.”

Gabi couldn’t confirm his claim . . . couldn’t deny it, either.

“Have you ever harmed a woman?” The question was her own. Gabi had a second set of questions that weren’t a part of Sam’s list.

“According to many . . . I have. But if you’re referring to physically . . . no. I hold no responsibility to women claiming to love what they don’t know.”

So the tabloids were right about the player inside the billionaire.

The arrogant man didn’t even appear to care that he’d broken hearts in the attempt to have a good time. Gabi wondered how many women fell for his devastating smile and natural charm.

Pushing past his exterior, it was time for Gabi to fire questions. “I need the name of your closest friend.”

He shrugged. “I don’t have a close friend.”

Not the answer she expected. The tug at Gabi’s heart threatened to kill the interview. “Everyone has a friend.”

“I have enemies, Miss Masini . . . people who want a piece of me. I don’t think of anyone as a close friend. Not someone I confide in.”

A shadow passed over his gray eyes.

She shook off the feeling of déjà vu and continued.

“Who is your biggest enemy?”

He laughed. Tossed his head back and caught the attention of the coffee shop. “I’ve been told since I was a child that I would be my greatest enemy.”

“So that’s your answer?”

Hunter Blackwell’s jaw twitched. “My enemies are too many to count. I’m sure your research has taught you that, too.”

It had, which told Gabi that Hunter Blackwell’s future bride would be in danger regardless of the disposition of the husband.

“Why are you looking for a wife, Mr. Blackwell?”

He held his chin high, narrowed his gaze on hers. “As I explained to Mrs. Harrison, the Forbes list of eligible bachelors has made my life a maze of insanity. I need a year to escape the chaos and refocus. Removing my eligibility status will clear my head of dating and temporary relationships. Sounds trivial, but the amount of women claiming I’ve slept with them and promised a ring has tripled in the last year. It’s tiring, Miss Masini.”

He did look a little fatigued, but that wasn’t the answer she was looking for.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else?”

He shook his head.

Too bad.

Gabi pushed her tea aside and gathered her purse from the floor. She looked at her watch . . . four minutes had passed since Hunter Blackwell sat down. She was one minute under her limit. “Thank you for considering Alliance, Mr. Blackwell. But at this time we’re going to have to pass on any future contractual relationship.”

She stood.

He was up and in front of her in a second. “Excuse me?”

“We’re going to pass.”

He shook his head. “Why?”

Instead of laying out all her cards, she started with the easiest. “I asked you for one name . . . someone you considered a friend . . . nothing. I asked you for an enemy . . . again your answer was nothing. I’ve sat across from politicians who are more forthcoming than you. Honesty is something Alliance holds sacred. Without it, two parties entering marriage can have devastating results. I wouldn’t allow my sister to marry you, Mr. Blackwell, let alone a client.”