Page 83 of Attraction (Mobsters + Billionaires 3)
Ryder:You might know that his dad is Ciaran O’Shea, but his mom is Alice Robin.
Me:Why is that name familiar?
Ryder:Because her dad is Connor Robin.
Ryder:Of the Robin Group.
Me:Fuck.
The Robin Group was an enormous conglomerate, mostly oil, real estate, and tech, and Connor Robin was a titan of New York from the late eighties until he sold the Robin Group about fifteen years ago. I gotta imagine his money has been making money hand over fist this whole time.
Ryder:Fuck is right. Alice Robin running off to marry Ciaran O’Shea was a big scandal at the time. When they met, he had a criminal record a mile long.
Me:Can’t imagine the Robin family was thrilled.
Ryder:Less so when she used her trust fund to seed O’Shea Finances.
Ryder:The media played it up like some kind of young love triumphs over family bias story, but the whole thing smells fishy.
Me:He did create a successful business. I’m sure that did a lot to soothe the Robin family's concerns.
I pull up the O’Shea Finances website, and Ciaran O’Shea looks like the kind of guy who charms old people out of their pensions—handsome with a slightly waxy sheen. I’ve definitely seen his face before and vaguely remember Ford saying something about the company’s unethical tactics.
Ryder:Sure, the company made millions, but I smell a longer con. Alice was the sole heiress to the Robin familybillions.
Ah, yes. Billion with a B.
Me:Was?
Ryder:About ten years ago, Connor Robin quietly changed his will, and every single penny will be going to his grandson, William O’Shea.
Oh shit.
Me:Nothing to Alice, nothing to Fallon?
Ryder:Nope. And nothing to indicate that she was informed of the change.
This could get messy, depending on how much Ciaran O’Shea had his heart set on becoming an oligarch.
Me:So who is this other son? Where is he?
Ryder:That’s the 13.1 billion dollar question. I found a birth certificate and school records, but the trail went cold after the will was changed. He was eighteen at the time.
I click on the folder Ryder marked as “William” and riffle through his old class photographs. Poor kid was rocking the bowl cut for way too damn long.
Me:So, whoever is the executor of the Robin estate knows where William is.
Ryder:You’re probably right, but here’s the most crazy-pants thing: when your man started dating Fallon, William was still at home. They may have actually met.
Me:Good work. Keep digging. Find that brother. I want to have a conversation with him.
Ryder:Will do.
I set aside the phone and look out over the vineyard, grinding my teeth. I know Ford doesn’t want to say anything, but I’m planning Fallon O’Shea’s funeral. After a few minutes, Ford’s delicate fingers caress my jaw.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice strained and quiet.
His apology makes me so fucking angry. I’m furious with the one who made him feel this way, but I soften my voice, not wanting to frighten him.
