Page 25 of The Irish Arrangement

Her lip curled. “Shane met me well after he’d sent that whore packing. It was never a choice between picking me or her.”

“Does Murray know anything about Nora’s past?” Ian asked, proving he had patience in droves. I was two seconds from torturing this woman to explain herself.

“No. He never cared to because she was so clearly no one and nothing.” She smiled, cruel and slow. “Just like Cara is.”

I stepped forward, getting in her face and waiting until fear streaked over her stiffly plastic face. “Cara is now my wife,” I reminded her.

I didn’t emphasize that as a defense for who Cara was as an individual. I didn’t know my wife. But she was mine. She was linked to the Sullivan name. To me. And I’d be goddamned she tried to insult anything of my possession.

She nodded, taking a shaky step back.

“Ma’am.” The butler rushed into the room, panting and just as out of shape as he was the other day. Alarm showed in every line of his wrinkled face as he looked at his mistress, the lady of the house. “Mr. Murray has been captured. His…” He glanced at me. “His work associates were not pleased with their meeting, and they have decided to keep him hostage until he pays up.”

Keira gasped, covering her mouth.

I glanced back at Ian, who wore the same expression that I bet he saw on my face. One that implied, what a dumb fuck.

“You must help,” Keira pleaded firmly, with authority she was an idiot to think she had here.

I turned, calling out over my shoulder. “No.”

“You’re family now!”

I stopped, pivoting to face her. “Not with you.”

With a final huff, amused that she’d try to beg me for help, I left with my brother and truly planned to never have to return.

We didn’t get many answers, but I knew we’d get to the bottom of this and handle any problems that might arise.

All I had to do, all I must, was knock up my wife and secure an heir.

10

CARA

The two guards, not Declan, saw me to my wing. I wasn’t sharing a room with my husband, but that didn’t surprise me. If his idea of consummating our marriage meant taking me against the front door, then he clearly wouldn’t have any sentimental need to lie with me in a bed for sleeping.

But I was stunned when the guards showed me the entire half of the damn floor. Being in this enormous castle was one thing. Understanding that I had an entire wing—with a bedroom, study, lounge area, and the biggest bathroom I could imagine—took some time.

Mom’s house could fit in the “lady’s wing”, as the taller guard called it. He and another older guy had replaced the two who’d chased me down at the other place, but I was just as wary of them. I’d remain on my guard and cautious here, this new “home” that I was supposed to live in.

“Mr. Sullivan would like your phone.”

I whirled around, tearing my gaze from the wide, curtained windows toward the rear of the room. Furrowing my brow, I replayed in my mind what I thought he'd said. “What?” My phone?

He held his hand out, his gaze not as demanding and cruel as his boss, but unwavering all the same. “Your phone.”

The other guard stood next to him, waiting expectantly.

“Why?”

The second man huffed a laugh. “So you can’t call for help to escape.”

I bit my lower lip and lowered my shoulders, defeated by his bluntness. “Oh. So I am a prisoner here.”

“Your phone.” He lifted his outstretched hand further toward me.

“Or else?” I mocked, taking my phone out of my pocket to unlock it and set it to factory reset. I couldn’t risk these men or Declan finding out about Mom or the deal I'd made with my father and stepmother, about being paid to marry Declan. The last thing I needed was for the Sullivan Mob to go after my mom as more collateral.

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