Page 5 of Beloved By the Irish

The implications in his tone…

I can’t help but wonder if Luis Diaz knows something about Antony’s death, and if he was trying to tell me Declan knows something, too.

To what end, I do not know.

But the questions leave enough doubt that I cannot afford to let myself sweep this discovery under the rug. Especially not when one of Declan’s family members point-blank said to me, “Be sure to ask him about your brother’s death. Specifically, why he felt the need to put a bullet through his skull.”

I despise Myles MacKenzie. The blond member of the MacKenzie crime family oozes arrogance and disdain for those who displease him. His role in the organization isn’t noteworthy. Not really. But still, I can’t let myself dismiss what he’s told me. I need to investigate and figure out if it’s true. And if it is, I need to follow through on my plan to get out of the engagement. ASAP.

Shaking off the overwhelming thoughts of my unknown future, I paste a smile on my face and go back to working the room. Most of my effort for this event occurred before tonight when I helped organize the layout of the exhibits and coordinated with the magazine on which artists and photographers they wanted to be featured. Everything is running smoothly. Now, I get to enjoy the fruits of my labor with some light schmoozing. Which should be easy, if it weren’t for the two massive Irishmen trailing me like unwanted shadows.

Liam’s and Nolan’s presence is hard to ignore. Especially when whoever I’m speaking with glances at them with blatant curiosity. Our society knows the business my family is in, but I didn’t have bodyguards following me around before my engagement. People are wondering why Declan feels the need to ramp up my security. I’m sure their imaginations are running wild, but I refuse to answer the questioning gleam in their eyes. I greet familiar faces and introduce myself to those I don’t recognize, all with a smile that hides the depth of my inner turmoil.

Josiah Johansson, a prominent fashion designer who takes an interest in donating time and money to allow children and teens from lower socioeconomic homes to access the arts, catches my attention. As we speak, I can’t help but compare him to Declan. My fiancé also takes an interest in the less fortunate, providing free access to community pools and swim lessons for children who otherwise wouldn’t be able to learn the potentially life-saving skill. Surely someone like that wouldn’t have murdered Antony in cold blood…

Stop it, Cat.

I shove thoughts of my fiancé from my mind. At least I try to. I won’t be able to keep up my pleasant façade otherwise.

I learn Josiah is here as one of the spokesmen for Worldwide Geographic’s non-profit which promotes field trips to local zoos, botanical gardens, and other nature-focused field trips across the country. Apparently, his philanthropic interests aren’t just limited to fashion and art.

The handsome man excuses himself when someone calls his name. I barely manage to hold back my laugh as I watch the elderly woman dripping with pearls drag her eyes over him appreciatively. Josiah handles the attention admirably, though he does choose to keep most of his attention on the woman’s husband.

“Wandering eye, Cat?”

I turn and see Isaiah Morgan, the owner of the gallery I work at, standing behind me with a teasing grin. He wears a midnight blue suit with shiny black shoes and a pricey Rolex.

My practiced smile turns genuine. “Isaiah, you made it.”

“Of course. When my best gallerist runs an event at the most famous museum in the country, I can’tnotattend.”

“I appreciate you being here.” Isaiah is a busy man in the art world. I’m sure there was another event he’s missing to be here tonight. “Your support means a lot.”

“Anything for you.” His expression softens. He glances around the crowded gallery. “Now, tell me. Which exhibit I should see first?”

“The shipwreck exhibit, for sure. The images of the sunken Spanish and Portuguese ships from the late 1800s are a sight to see.” I turn to show him the way to the room but pause in surprise when he reaches out and grabs my hand.

Isaiah brings my hand to rest in the crook of his elbow with an easygoing smile. “Lead the way.”

I swear I can feel Nolan’s and Liam’s disapproving stares on the back of the hand resting against Isaiah’s arm, but I ignore them and guide Isaiah through the crowd.

“How is your latest piece coming along?” he asks softly. Not only is Isaiah my boss, but he also acts as the go-between for me and my art business. Under the name Bella Donna, I sell one-of-a-kind, custom porcelain sculptures. It started as a hobby but turned into a full-fledged business after I agreed to enter a piece for auction at one of the gallery’s amateur artist nights. I can’t begin to describe how thrilling it was to sell my first piece, and that excitement is replicated every time I sell one of my sculptures. The success is that much sweeter knowing no one knows the true identity of Bella Donna, aside from Isaiah. And Declan.

Ugh.

It is impossible not to think of my fiancé. These past months together, he’s burrowed into my subconscious. There isn’t an hour of the day that passes where something doesn’t remind me of him. It’s irritating. And alarming. I’ve never cared for someone the way I care for Declan which makes the uncertainty of our future that much more difficult to stomach.

“Catarina?”

“Sorry.” I shake my head and offer Isaiah a weak smile. “I spaced out. The swans are nearly done,” I tell him, mentioning the custom piece he asked about. “I just need to add some finishing touches to the paint and it’ll be done.”

“Really? That was fast. It’s not scheduled to be complete until next month.”

“Well, being back at my place means I can work in my studio anytime I want so I finished it quicker than expected.” Mostly because I craved distraction from the tumultuous thoughts attempting to commandeer my mind every second of every day.

Usually, reading is my go-to method of distraction, but romance novels failed to help menotthink of my sexy fiancé and the mind-blowing night we spent together in Newport.

Isaiah lifts a brow. “You moved back into your place?”

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