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465 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 29, 2020
→ Wren Jacobi (H): cold and callous. rich af.
→ Dash Lovett: British, kind of an asshole, has the old money aesthetic. rich af.
→ Pax Davis: buzzed haircut, highkey a ho, models for Calvin Klein, rich af.
"I've always been a depraved and dirty thing, Elodie Stillwater, but the idea of you has corrupted me to the point of insanity."
"I'm Elodie Stillwater. I transferred in from Tel Aviv. Father's an army man. Mother's dead. I'm into painting, music, and photography. I'm allergic to pineapple. I'm an only child. I'm terrified of thunderstorms, and I love flea markets."
Wren is the stuff of sweet, heavenly dreams, and twisted, terrifying nightmares.
Why am I so dead set on her?
Because she’s innocent, and I’m not.
Because she’s wholesome, and I’m not.
Because she’s untainted, and I’m not.
And most importantly of all, because she’ll be so pretty when I make her cry.
“I’m cursed with this bewildering fascination over you, and it’s really becoming… inconvenient, Stillwater.”
“Tell me I’m wrong. You don’t imagine me. You’re not plagued by me day and night, the way I’m plagued by you. See, I have no problem with the truth. I made friends with it a long time ago. A lie only makes a fool of the liar. The truth always comes out. I am besieged by you, and it fucking sucks. You’re in my head when I wake up. You’re in my head when I wander around this wretched place, and you’re still there, tormenting the ever-loving shit out of my when I close my eyes at night.”
…
“Fine. You’re right. I’m rotten and eaten up on the inside because of you. Is that what you want to hear? I let something spoiled and bad into my head, and now I can’t rid myself of it, and it’s festering away, driving me madder and madder by the day. Congratu-fucking-lations. I’m going against every ounce of common sense I own every damn day, and I’m making decisions I know are fucking stupid, and I can’t do anything about it! How fucked up is that!”
“You are going to be mine, Elodie Stillwater. Of all my sins and misdeeds, making you fall in love with me will be the very worst of them.”
Behind every action, every thought, and every word lies the nagging question: what would Elodie think of me if she could see me now?
It’s a burden, this shift in attitude. It doesn’t come naturally; it requires constant work, and the new restrictions I’ve placed upon myself chafe like nothing else.
She didn’t ask me to change.
She hasn’t really asked anything of me, but this gnawing desire to make her happy, to make her proud of me, is ever constant. For her, I want to be better than my soiled, rotten soul has ever been before.
“In case you haven’t realized it yet, you are endgame for me, Elodie Stillwater. And everyone else in the entire world can go and eat a dick.”