Still, it wouldn't last much longer. One of these days, she would wake up, go to ring the bell for her cappuccino and croissants, remember that she'd voluntarily chosen a life without cappuccino and croissants and maids, say "What the hell was I thinking?" and hightail it home to Mommy.
When she did, he would convince her that she still wanted the Larsen case investigated. Then there would be no waiting for her trust fund--he'd be paid up front. While she hadn't proved as incompetent as he feared, he worked better alone. For Olivia, the allure of playing detective would wear off soon, taking her enthusiasm and commitment with it.
The intercom buzzed. "Mr. Walsh?"
"Yes?"
"There's a Mr. Morgan here to speak to you."
He hesitated. No, it was a common enough name.
"Morgan?" he repeated.
"James Morgan," his secretary, Lydia, said. "Olivia--"
"Yes, I know who he is. Tell him I'll be out in a minute."
Olivia's ex-fiance. Coming to see him. What the hell for?
His gaze shifted to the pile of newspapers on his desk.
The article. Morgan had seen Gabriel's name, looked him up, and asked around. Now he was riding to Olivia's rescue, to free her from Gabriel's clutches--and cut Gabriel loose from her employ.
Damn. This could be inconvenient.
He crossed the office and hit the button on the camera that fed into the reception area. Sometimes it was advantageous to watch waiting clients, judge their mood, decide exactly how long they could or should be kept waiting.
With one glance at James Morgan, Gabriel knew that ignoring him was not an option. The man hadn't even taken a seat. He was important, damn it, and he would not be kept waiting. The white knight, on his feet and prepared for battle.
Very inconvenient.
Gabriel sized up the man. He had doubtless seen photographs of Morgan before, but when he'd learned whom Olivia had been engaged to, he'd been unable to pull up a mental image. Now he knew why. Because there was absolutely nothing memorable about him. Oh, he cut a dashing enough figure. Handsome, trim and fit, well groomed, custom suit. But walk down the Loop and you'd see a dozen men like him. Corporate Ken dolls with just as much personality as the plastic version.
Before Gabriel had met Olivia, he'd have doubtless thought James Morgan was a good match for her--Corporate Ken and Debutante Barbie. But now he looked at Morgan and thought, What the hell does she see in him?
The answer came quickly. An easy life. That's what Olivia would see in a man like James Morgan. Good genetics. Deep pockets. Political aspirations. And dull enough that she could wrap him around her finger or pin him beneath her heel, depending on which served her purpose. Olivia might like to think she was a decent, well-bred young woman, but there was a streak of ruthless survivalism there, and Morgan was further proof of it.
Interesting.
Gabriel opened his door and walked into the reception area.
"Mr. Morgan?"
Morgan turned. Relief flickered across his face, as if he hadn't expected Gabriel to see him.
"Gabriel Walsh," Gabriel said, extending his hand.
As Morgan shook it, he gave Gabriel his own sizing up. He doubtless hadn't been thrilled to hear that his beautiful ex-fiance was being spotted around town with an unattached, successful young lawyer. But James's satisfied nod said that once-over was all he needed to reassure himself that the relationship with Olivia was simply business.
Asshole.
"You wanted to speak to me?" Gabriel said.
"I did. Do you have a few minutes?"
"Certainly." Gabriel waved him toward his office and motioned for Lydia to hold his calls.
Chapter Thirty-nine