Marie was down at the shop by the time she came out of her room. She wasn’t ready to face her best friend. She’d escaped to a hot bath the night before, claiming too much stress. Marie hadn’t said a word.
In the twelve years they’d known each other, that was a first.
She hadn’t woken her that morning, either. Gabrielle had made it to the kitchen to think about eating, when her phone rang.
Not recognizing the number, she let it go to voice mail. And then listened to the message the second she was notified there was one.
She still had on sleep pants and a T-shirt. No way to present herself for a command from Walter Connelly: “Ms. Miller. If I could impose on you to bring your client to the front of the Connelly building at ten o’clock this morning, I would be grateful.”
The request itself, coming from the man who hadn’t so much as acknowledged her words the night before, was odd enough. The politeness with which it was offered made Gabrielle too nervous to think any more about eating.
She called Liam instead. Told him about the request and asked him how he wanted her to handle it.
When he said he wanted to be there and wanted her to be with him, she showered, dressed in a brown business suit Marie’s mother had bought her for Christmas the year before and waited for her client to arrive at her door to escort her down to his car.
She didn’t bother to tell him she thought it was a bad idea. He already knew that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
WHEN LIAM SAW all of the media representatives swarming the front steps, the curb and the curb across the street from Connelly Investments, he almost turned and left.
“What’s he doing?” he asked Gabi. Dressed in a newer silk suit and shiny leather shoes, he stood back a full block and surveyed the situation.
A podium with a microphone was set up on the top of the steps leading into the ornate building. Cars, trucks and vans bearing various television and radio station logos and call letters took up every available parking space. Some were even parked on the lawn.
For a man who’d spent most of his life avoiding the circus of gratuitous publicity, Walter Connelly had certainly managed to make up for lost time.
“Where’s his security?” Liam asked, drawn to the scene even while he wanted to turn his back and drive away.
“Based on that podium up there, I’m guessing his security is doing what he told them to do—allow the press to congregate.”
She sounded so calm. “Did you come home last night?”
“Of course. Where else would I go?”
They were walking slowly toward the crowd. He intended to stay on the outskirts. And hope that he wasn’t recognized. He wanted to loop his arm through hers. But didn’t want to expose her to any more fodder for the gossip columnists.
Not that it really mattered at this point. The press would be far more interested in him going to jail.
“I’d suggest you don’t get any closer.” Liam heard the voice behind him and turned to find Elliott Tanner there.
“You knew about this?” he asked. He hadn’t called.
“I called him,” Gabrielle said. “I knew I couldn’t stop you from coming, but I had to do what I could to make sure you were safe.”
Didn’t matter to Liam one way or the other. He was ready to take whatever the old man had to hand to him. Crucifixion would almost be a relief after all the hours of hanging out alone in his apartment waiting.
Even if he believed Marie, even if he dared hope her cockamamie idea that he’d always been in love with Gabrielle were true, he had nothing to offer her as a man in jail who hadn’t known his own mind until he was past thirty.
If what Marie believed about him was true, Liam had wasted ten years living in his father’s shadow.
“What do you know about this?” he asked the bodyguard.
“Absolutely nothing.”
Liam didn’t believe him and turned back to face the crowd.
If the old man thought that he was going to teach Liam some insane lesson, show him who really had the power—because that’s what Walter’s life with Liam was really all about—he was going to be disappointed.