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“And did you tell your dear sister it’s for your fiancée who was in a trunk at the time?”

Griffin stops dead in his tracks, his grip tightening around my hand. “Before I answer that, you need to know a sensitive tidbit about my familyandmy sister so you don’t find yourself blushing from embarrassment.”

The steel in his voice gets my attention.

“Okay,” I say, softening.

“When I or anyone in my family refers to my sister in the present, they’re talking about Siobhan, who also goes by Sabine. But if a sister is mentioned in the past, they might be speaking about my other sister Norah, who passed away.”

The pain in his voice guts me. People expect to lose their parents. And only when we get older do we expect to lose a sibling. But his sister Norah clearly died when she was young.

Griffin Quinlan shows a sense of family loyalty I don’t think I’ve ever seen from my brothers. No one dared to mention Alexander in the few short months I was home.

“We, um. Have something in common then,” I say instead of a sorry, which I’m sure he’s heard. “Alexander...”

“You’re right,” he says and strokes my cheek. “We have a lot more in common, too.”

I knew that right away seven years ago. Until I thought he was a hitman.

Clicking my tongue, I say, “So the sister related to Victoria Holden is Siobhan? Who I should call Sabine?”

“Aye,” he says, smiling. “Years back, her husband put her in a trunk, too. Family tradition, I guess. Even though we wanted to kill him for it. But they’re together almost five years now, and expecting their first wee one.” He clears his throat. “Baby. Forgive me, it’s been a long time being around someone who isn’t Irish.”

“I figured that’s what you meant.” I stare cautiously at the daunting townhouse. “You... You can accept a strong woman in your life?”

“I prefer one. Just not one determined to slit my throat.”

Sounding like I’m giving in, I mock in a deep voice, “I promise not to kill you.”

“NowI feel better.”

We keep walking until Griffin stops at the cream-bricked townhouse with windows framed in black lead. The blend of old-world luxury on the outside fits the neighborhood and reminds me of what Ares said about how the Irish honor tradition.

“Here’s home,” he announces proudly. “For now.”

For now?

“What about the rest of my clothes, shoes, jewelry, toiletries?”

Griffin looks me up and down. “I don’t see you as a high heel, jewelry woman.”

“I’m not. That stuff at my aunt’s house is all nonsense they bought me in December to dress me up as a doll for Troi’s precious heir.”

“I’m the heir.” Griffin smirks.

“Andyouput me in a trunk.”

“Not going to let that go?”

“Not when it makes you blush. Oh, wait.” I lean in. “That’s the shiner I gave you.”

“Cute. You’ll get all your clothes and anything else you want.”

“Ugh, I have to play the part of a princess, right?”

“Not to me.” Emotions play across his face. “I never wanted a princess. Be whoever the hell you want to be.”

“Like, um, Hadleigh?”