He just needed to be able to prove to his father, in a way that was measurable, that his own articles would carry weight. Hits on Friday’s article could be that proof.
He was planning to be armed with the offer to write the article when he demanded an audience with the old man. The idea could have merit if his article had a respectable amount of hits.
The editor had given him administrative rights over his content so that he was able to see what most viewers could not—the page’s statistics.
Sitting back, he stared. But only for a moment.
Over a hundred thousand views in a single weekend.
He could hardly believe it himself. That should get the old man’s attention.
With a couple of deft moves of his finger, he’d made and printed a screen shot of the page. He tightened the knot of his tie and, throwing his trench coat over his arm, picked up his briefcase and was on his way.
While waiting for the elevator, he remembered to text Tanner.
And was moderately impressed when the man was already in place, his SUV running and waiting for Liam as he stepped out the back door.
* * *
IT WAS LUNCHTIME before Gabrielle had a chance to think about the morning’s gaffe. She’d tried to call Liam about it on the way to work, to warn him, but he hadn’t picked up. She didn’t leave a message, figuring it was better just to tell him about the episode in person, when she could profusely apologize for representing him in such an unprofessional fashion, for letting the reporter get to her and make her antagonistic, for making Liam look like a buffoon with a groupie.
A tearful client, one whose husband was suing for shared custody of her kids and hadn’t returned them after his scheduled weekend visit, had been waiting for her when she walked into the office, and her focus had been fully engaged the rest of the morning.
Now Terri, the paralegal Gabi relied on most, found her in the hall staring at a vending machine of day-old sandwiches. “Gabi, I’ve been looking up your name all morning like you asked. Something just popped up a few minutes ago.”
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” She could tell by the worried look on the young brunette’s face.
“Well, you better take a look.” Pulling Gabrielle by the arm, Terri took her into the office she shared with several other paralegals and sat her at her computer.
Gabrielle was thankful the room was empty except for the two of them when Terri clicked on an icon on the bottom of her screen and the site Terri wanted her to see came up.
Attitude had published it. She recognized him in the small headshot. His moniker was right there beside it: Tarnished Truth.
What Man Wouldn’t Die for a Hot Attorney Like This? was the headline. And there followed a streaming video of her inelegant speech. Watching herself, Gabrielle wanted to crawl under the desk. It was worse than she’d feared.
She was worse than she’d feared. A she dragon defending her fold.
Only Liam wasn’t her fold.
And she’d just made a fool of both of them.
* * *
“DID YOU LET your attorney know you were going to be seeing your father this morning?” Elliott Tanner clearly didn’t like where Liam was having him take him.
“No. She’s working. I’ll tell her later today.”
The bodyguard’s frown gave his opinion. But there were some things that were between just a father and his son.
It was more a given that they wouldn’t have contact since the old man had cut him off and then had him thrown out of the Connelly Investments building.
Liam had tried two ways to get inside his father’s home. He had Elliott Tanner punch Liam’s access code into the gated entrance. When that didn’t work, he called up to the house and was told by the housekeeper who’d helped his mother raise him that his father wasn’t home. When he asked to be admitted anyway, he was told again his father wasn’t home. Cajoling didn’t work. Charming her didn’t work. His father wasn’t home.
So, in spite of the fact that he was ruining a good suit and a new pair of shiny leather shoes, and with his bodyguard in tow, he resorted to the one way he knew for sure he could get in. The way he’d used to sneak in and out of the mansion when he was a kid. Through a group of trees, past a thick patch of shrubbery, to an old gatehouse on the back of the property. When his father had had the security fencing put in, he’d left the old gatehouse, building the fencing right up to it.
Because Liam’s mother had asked him to. She’d loved that old gatehouse. Had painted it several times.
Luckily for Liam, Walter Connelly wasn’t into gatehouses and had no idea that his son had stashed a key to that one under the cement foundation.