She had a child who was more Bailey than anyone knew, and she wanted him to have that legacy. Without a father, the only legacy she could eventually leave to him was her own. So she would work night and day if necessary to make sure that he would be seen to be as much a Bailey as any of them.

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Three

Stephen Doyle was a big man whose size could intimidate people, so he made a point of always having a cheerful countenance – he had learned at a young age that it put people at their ease. At school he had been the class giant, and his family’s name had not helped either. The Doyles were well known as a family to be wary of. His father was a powerful man, prone to drunken rages if he was thwarted, who could smash their home up on a whim. He also, however, had a reputation for being more than capable of orchestrating a good earn for anyone who requested it.

His old man had always been a broker, and Stephen Doyle had inherited his father’s knack for finding out everything about everyone, and using that knowledge to his advantage. He put people in contact with each other – people who were looking for a partner in certain enterprises, or who had a product needing a viable distributor or backer. These were people willing to pay a percentage of their earnings to the broker who had found them a perfect match. It was a lucrative earn and one of the few specialist occupations in the Life.

The Doyles were approached by anyone who needed a partner; they brokered deals for new business ventures by marrying up the money-people with the ideas-people. The real knack lay in being able to create partnerships between those who could actually work together. It was important to understand who you were dealing with and to ensure that they could get along. In their game, that was imperative – especially as so many of the people he dealt with settled any differences with a firearm.

Now that Europe had opened up, Stephen was more in demand than ever, regularly approached to broker international deals. He was respected because he never underestimated the people he dealt with, and he would always ensure that everyone concerned received an accurate assessment. There could be no hidden surprises that might cause problems down the line.

Stephen Doyle was thirty-seven years old and, for the first time in his life, he was falling in love. From the moment he had laid eyes on Tania Bailey he had been smitten – until then he had always been happy to play the field. Now he was actually courting a girl of twenty, whose father was a man only a raving fucking lunatic would cross.