“I’m sorry, Ms. Miller, as I told you on the phone, Mr. Connelly is not going to speak with you. And he certainly has no interest in seeing you.”
“He has to speak with me,” Gabrielle told the older woman sitting so pompously behind her desk. Liam had fondness for the woman—though at the moment Gabrielle couldn’t figure out why—so she smiled and said, “Gloria, I’m sorry to be a problem, but I’m Liam’s attorney of record and Mr. Connelly has filed charges against my client. I could speak with George, of course, but I suspect Mr. Connelly will want to conduct this business directly with me. Tell him that Liam and I spent the weekend in Florida.”
The man was going to force her to play dirty. Which didn’t help her opinion of the coldhearted adulterer at all.
Gloria took one look at the security guard standing just off to the right of the doorway and slipped through the door leading to the company president’s office. Did that mean she knew about Missy and Tamara? Or had Gabrielle been convincing enough that she thought she should consult her boss?
She was back before a full minute had passed.
“You can go in,” she said.
The guard moved forward as Gabrielle did.
“Alone,” Gloria said. “Mr. Connelly said to send her in alone.”
That was that. Gabrielle knew even before she’d stepped through to the inner sanctum that she’d won.
* * *
“WHAT DID HE SAY?” Liam asked her as she called to tell him that the deed was done. She’d be back at her office with five minutes to spare for a bathroom break before her first afternoon appointment arrived—an obese thirty-four-year-old man with a chemical imbalance who needed her help applying for social security disability.
“He said okay,” she reported, glancing in her side mirror as she switched lanes and sped up. “I walked in, he asked what I wanted and I told him our terms—your agreement to stay away from him as long as he dropped all charges against you. And he said okay. He told me to wait while he had Gloria draw up the paper, which I did. He’s already signed it. I’m to get your signature, deliver the form back to him and it’ll be done.”
“Just like that? You didn’t have to threaten him?”
“I asked Gloria to let him know we’d spent the weekend in Florida.”
When he didn’t respond, she wished she could see his expression. “He and I never mentioned Tamara or Missy, Liam. But I’m sure he knows now that you know about them.”
And still, Walter Connelly didn’t have a word to say to his son.
While Gabi had dreamed the night before that she’d married him and given him a real family.
* * *
LIAM WAS AT home Thursday afternoon, two days after Gabi had met his father, putting the finishing touches on the first article in what was now going to be a series on financier Walter Connelly as told by his only son.
Gabi had delivered his signed copy of the agreement between father and son the same day Walter had had it drawn up. Though he’d stayed in the car, Liam had ridden over with her—with Tanner somewhere behind them. Liam hadn’t been out of the apartment building since.
He’d gone down for coffee each of the past couple of mornings. Visited with Marie. Her concern for him was nice. And he wanted to make certain that Tanner was good for his word and was seeing that Gabi made it to work safely, that security was still watching the place and that no one was bothering Marie or her business.
When he looked outside his window just before dusk on Thursday evening, he didn’t see a single reporter left downstairs. He’d been checking a couple of times a day.
He didn’t kid himself. They were in the wings, waiting to squeeze out the next drops of juice. But for now, all was quiet. Liam appreciated the silence.
Tanner had checked in each day to ascertain that his services wouldn’t be needed. Liam had no idea what the man did after that.
There’d been no word from h
is father.
He hadn’t seen Gabi since the elevator had stopped at her floor after their errand late Tuesday afternoon. Hadn’t spoken with her in more than twenty-four hours. That hadn’t stopped him from reliving their kiss.
Over and over again.
And each time, he’d turned back to the computer screen and started writing about his father.
When he hadn’t been writing, or going through personal files for pertinent dates and reminders of time with his father, he’d been going through Connelly files, pulling out anything and everything having to do with George.