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“No. Nothing. I wasn’t...sexually active.” I sneak a look at Griffin whose stare is so intense it can cut glass.

“I suggest you make an appointment with a primary health provider for a full physical.”

“Will do, doc,” I say with a salute.

“Dr. O’Rourke,” he says proudly, shaking my hand.

“Thanks, Cormac,” Griffin says and escorts him back to the foyer.

I amble that way until I’m faced with Griffin and his brothers plus one cousin staring at me by the front door. A courier brought several suitcases an hour ago. Jon and Bridget took my bags up a set of stairs, but I haven’t seen anything beyond the first floor and the sunroom.

I’ve decided that will be my favorite spot to unwind.

Bridget serves a tasty dinner, and as much as I want to devour the scrumptious-looking pot roast, my anxious and shrunken stomach won’t allow more than a few bites.

Griffin and his brothers talk as if I’m not there. But not in a rude way. They’re very open with their plans to deal with Brandon’s death and those who are still loyal to him. All over a bottle of whiskey they pass around. Even to me, but I refuse.

When the plates are cleared away, Griffin stands up. “Why don’t you brats go home? I need to be alone with Ava.”

I shiver at how he saysalone.

We all get up from the table and thebratsstare at me, especially Connor who is the one I need to watch out for. He seems more unhinged than his brothers. From the drive here, I gathered Shane is a cyber guy, a hacker, but not a nerd. At all. He’s tall with that rugby-player bulk.

Connor is lean, but that sweater he’s wearing got a workout from his pecs and biceps. He’s the guy who will snap someone’s neck.

Rhys... I’m not so sure about, only that he served in the Irish military and did private security work like his brother who I’ve not met yet. From the flow of the conversation, Rhys is some kind of expert marksman.

Connor struts up to me and the part of me still damaged wants to shrink back. But these guys are like bears, I can’t run away or show fear. “If you kill my brother, we’ll find you, kill you, your aunt, and your brothers. We have no problem going back to Astoria and—”

“Speak for yourself, brat,” Griffin interrupts and nudges his brother away from me. “She’s not going to kill me. Right?”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” Rhys says, folding his arms.

When I try to answer, Griffin puts tattooed fingers against my lips. Damn, that’s sexy. “I’d like to give my fiancée a full tour of our home.”

Our...

I swallow a lump at that one.

Right, this whole ruse is to quash rumors. He possibly doesn’t trust Jon and Bridget, who might need a few grand extra a month from skeptics in the neighborhood asking about us.

We have to make this look real.

The brothers and Rhys leave, and when the front door clicks shut, Griffin leans against the back of it, staring at me.

Soft voices from behind me turn me around. Jon and Bridget have jackets on and walk toward the foyer as well.

“Don’t forget your grocery list, Ma’am,” Bridget says sweetly like she didn’t hear Connor threaten to kill me two seconds ago.

What’s with the ma’am? I’m twenty-seven. “Will do,” I say to return the politeness, though.

“Night, sir,” Jon says, and a guard in a suit opens the door for them.

When the house managers leave, I step behind Griffin. “Is that your guard?”

“One of them.” He smiles. “I have two personal guards and a larger team of men who rotate outside. Front and back. They’ll stay in that watchroom during the day when we’re home.” He points to a small hallway that leads to a sitting room with a kitchenette.

“Like a wardroom,” I say, remembering the naval term for a place to meet and rest.