“Master Griffin, I would marry my own mother for the excuse to stab my eyes out with her brooches than to see anything under your kilt," the man's voice said with an elegant aplomb. "Where would you like your guest's things, sir?”

“...Jamison appeared in the doorway with a cooler."Thank you, Alfred," Griffin said, taking the supplies. "There's a thousand dollars in the cookie jar. Go buy yourself something pretty.""I will purchase a firearm and shoot you with it," Griffin's butler said, bowing elegantly. "Master Griffin."He left the room...”

“Alfred, I need ice and that vitamin K goop. To the nursery. Stat.""I loathe you, Master Griffin," came a British accent over the intercom."Thanks, Alfred," Griffin answered and came back to the bed."Is your butler's name really Alfred?""No. It's Jamison, I think. Can't remember. I changed it to Alfred years ago. My first crush on a dude was Batman...”

“But I wasn't done," she pouted, no longer hungry for anything but him. "Yes, you were.""Yes, sir.""Lay down on your back.""Very yes, sir.”

“Hey, bad girl,” came the deep, sexy voice of The Griffin himself. “Can’t believe the Pope letyou out of the Vatican.”

“You are my heart,” he said. He’d said those very words to her that morning. But that morning, they’d sounded affectionate and playful. Now he said them as if he were stating a fact of anatomy. “I will not lose you. I’m sending you away to keep you safe. Do you understand? Say ‘Yes, sir.’”Nora nodded and swallowed a sudden lump in her throat.”Yes, sir.”Soren bent his head and kissed her long and slow before pulling back.”

“It's not morning until you're awake. And it's not night until you're asleep in your bed under my roof. And I could go on and on but hope is a horrible thing, and I love you too much to give you any.”