Page 58 of The Irish Arrangement

I exhaled long and hard. “So she did call her mother.” Maybe he’s hired help and gave the phone to Nora.

“For five minutes, she spoke with that line. But then, she also called another number. I think she hung up too soon. The call only lasted for two seconds.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Who was that call to?”

“Shane Murry.” Ian stuck his phone back in his pocket.

“Her father?”

He shrugged. “I got the impression that she wasn’t close with him.”

“That’s my impression too.” I had no clue why she’d call him. I hadn’t heard from the Murrays since I changed the details of the deal with him, that he’d still need to pay up his debts owed to the Sullivans. Maybe I could press him on that detail at this gala. He’d suffer under the pressure.

“Well, Murray will be at this gala. If she wants to speak with him, she can when we’re there.” While I stand right next to her.

“That’s not all.” He stuck his other hand in his pocket. “I got an email about Nora.”

“What about her?” I rifled through my options, choosing a tuxedo to pack for tomorrow night.

“Whether she’s at all related to anyone in the Boyle family.” Ian smiled. “She’s not. Not at all. Her father was a clergyman from France, and her mother was some secretary on vacation from Australia.”

I exhaled a long breath of relief again. “Good. Thank you for uncovering that information.” I frowned. “But why did Dad even think that Nora Gallagher could’ve been a Boyle relation to begin with?”

Ian shook his head. “I don’t know, but I was going to check in with him before we leave for the gala.”

“I’ll join you.”

Together, we headed upstairs to the private wing that Dad resided in and never left. The guard nodded at us and let us enter.

Before we even reached his actual bedroom, I heard the coughing. Ian grimaced. “It sounds like he’s getting worse.”

Which we should expect. “And he’ll get worse yet,” I agreed sadly.

It put more pressure on me to impregnate Cara. She had to give me a child. It was imperative. It was impossible to try to make it happen before he died. I knew that. But even if he didn’t live long enough to know the name would carry on, I would never stop trying.

“I thought—” Dad broke into more coughs as he saw us. “I thought you both would represent me at the gala.”

I smirked, amused that even though he was weak and dying, he never had his finger off the pulse of the crime world. With a tablet and his phone, and a lot of communication with Ian, he seemed to always know what was going on.

“We are,” I said.

“Your wife, too?” he asked.

I nodded. “Cara too.”

“Good. Show those fuckers that we’re not letting our line die out.”

“Dad,” Ian said, taking his usual seat by the bed. “I finally got the answers about Nora Gallagher’s parentage.”

He raised his bushy brows. “Is she a Boyle?”

Ian shook his head. “Not at all. I traced back her parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. None of them are related to any Boyle.”

His smile was soft and easy. “Good.”

“But why’d you think that she was?” I asked.

“Rumors.” He smirked and shrugged.

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