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Getting rid of them had sucked, and I’d done so with the promise that I’d be setting up a new business ASAP.

Which, cue sigh, wasn’t going to happen with someone gunning for the Five Points.

Me:You tell me when and we’ll meet up, okay?

Jenny:Great stuff. Gotta go. You caught me on a break. Love you. xoxo

Me:Love you, too. xoxo.

Putting my phone down, because one of my contacts had made me feel guilty and the other had made me horny, I decided it was safer just to stare at the walls until my dad came.

There was a boring picture of a horse standing outside a stable, and I studied it like I hadn’t seen it before until there was a knock at the door, then it opened.

Turning back to see my father stride in, I got to my feet with a smile. His arms were open as soon as he closed the door and turned back to face me, and I rushed at him, loving the way he hugged me.

No, we didn’t have a regular daddy-daughter relationship, but in our way, we were close.

He embraced me tightly then pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

“New perfume?”

My eyes widened at that, and I pulled back to look up at him. “Huh?”

“You smell different.”

I had his eyes, but that was it. His face was patrician and mine was anything but. He was tall and lean like the All American he’d been as a kid. He’d met Mom during summer break when he’d been home from West Point. A one-night stand had far reaching consequences that he’d never really known about until his campaign manager had found me. A big, black secret that marred his reputation.

“I do?” I cleared my throat and pulled away from him, returning to my seat on the sofa. As he followed, taking the opposite side, I told him, “I guess it’s because I used my boyfriend’s soap this morning.”

He stiffened, his eyes widening in surprise at my announcement. “You have a boyfriend? Since when?”

I decided it was best to lie. “Quite a while.” I smiled at him. “It only just got serious. Nothing worth mentioning until now.”

He grimaced. “I don’t want to know what it was before you ‘got serious.’”

Smirking at him, I joked, “Be grateful you only have one daughter.”

“I am,” he teased. “Sons are far easier to corral than girls.”

“I’ll bet.” I pursed my lips in amusement then, as was our way, I served us both tea, and we settled back to talk. Considering the way we’d started off, I decided to take a deep dive into troubling waters. “I’m getting married to him, Dad.”

Alan half-choked on his tea. “What?”

“You heard me,” I jibed. I stared down at the murky brown liquid in my cup—I took it with just a dash of milk to take the bitterness away, but it certainly didn’t look palatable. “He asked where I went every Tuesday.”

That had him stiffening. “What did you tell him?”

“That I had a standing appointment with my father.” I looked him square in the eye. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

It wasn’t really a lie.

Finn knew what was happening here from his own intel, not from anything I’d shared with him.

Alan grimaced. “I’m sorry, Aoife.”

“It’s okay, Dad. It is what it is.”

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, tipping the cup in his hands as he stared down at his feet. “I hate that you have to lie for me.”

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