21. Declan
21
DECLAN
A s soon as I exited Cara’s room, I saw Ian rushing up to me in the hallway.
I groaned. I loved my brother. I really did. And I appreciated everything he did. Without him, I’d be even more stressed out and overworked.
“We just talked.”
He nodded, meeting me as I strode toward my wing. After one glance over his shoulder, perhaps to check that Cara’s doors were closed, he sighed and pulled his phone out. “Yeah, and a lot can happen in a few minutes.”
“Now what?” I asked, letting him follow me into my wing as I planned to pack for the night away.
“I’m tracking Cara’s calls,” he said, “just like you asked.”
I nodded, furrowing my brow as I stood in my closet, considering all my suits and tuxedos. I hated dressing up. Black-tie events were a drag, but I’d be damned if I didn’t look the part.
“I gave it back to her earlier today.”
“Yeah. The first number went to a man named Oscar.”
I stiffened, and he held up his hand to stop me from speaking.
“Who is an employee at the address for Nora Gallagher.”
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.
“Who’d you hear it from, though?” Ian asked. “If it’s someone at the gala, we could ask why they started the rumor.”
Dad focused on me, his rheumy eyes stern. “Keira Murray. That’s where my associates said the rumor originated.”
Ian and I shared a quick look.
What the hell?
“Cara’s stepmother?” Ian checked.
Dad nodded.
I knew Keira disliked Cara. That was evident in how adamantly she foisted Cara onto me in marriage to spare Saoirse having to get hitched with me.
What is her fucking deal? Keira was bitter and whiny, but to start a rumor like that? For what?
I’ll find out soon enough. I wasn’t above putting pressure on Shane for paying back his debt or on Keira to explain herself and understand why she’d tried to stir up shit.
I left Dad, promising him that I was working on getting an heir. Back in my wing, I packed and prepared for the night away. We would leave tonight, but that was no simple drive.
I planned the security detail, thinking ahead to how many men I’d want at the gala venue itself, too. My men would be with her and nearby at all times. So would I. I didn’t intend to let my wife stray from me for more than a single moment, and I didn’t care if I was over-the-top with my security.
I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
Not just because she would be the mother of my child but also because I cared for her. She’d snuck under my skin, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d be tempted to admit I love?—
“What the hell?”
I looked at my phone.
The number was unidentified, but the text sent my heart racing.
I asked Riley for your number.
Is my husband too busy to help me decide on a dress?
I grinned, walking toward her wing. This was bullshit. It was time for her to just stay in my room, in my bed.
Never, Wife.
I pushed open her doors, finding her standing in lacy black lingerie as she held up a black gown from a hanger in her left hand and a green one from her right.
“Cara…” I growled her name, stalking straight to her.
She gasped, running back. “No. No. Come on. Riley found these in storage, said they were shipped here as wedding gifts last week.”
I snagged her, kissing up her neck as I tugged at the cups of her bra.
“You said we had an hour to leave and—” She shut up, holding her breath as I bit at her breast then dragged my tongue over the bite to soothe the sting.
“An hour,” I agreed.
I took both dresses and flung them to the bed. Then, holding her by the waist, I walked her toward the chair.
I sat, pulling her panties down as I leaned forward to mash my mouth to her pussy.
“Oh…” She threaded her fingers through my hair, rocking into my face.
“An hour is more than enough time,” I promised as I stared up at her and fingered her cunt. Creaming up my digit, I then pushed it into her ass and used that leverage to tip her closer to me so I could feast on her.
Enough time for now .
I wasn’t sure anymore if one lifetime would be enough for how much I wanted her.