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I don’t give a shit what the Griffins are doing. Except that I don’t like anybody having fun without me.
‘Calm water doesn’t need more water—you need wind to move your sail.’ I probably need to find a little maniac like you.”
“I can’t believe this. I’m marrying a child. And not a normal child—a demon hellspawn, like Chucky, or the Children of the Corn . . .”
I content myself with smiling up at him and saying, “In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity.”
“Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.”
“Funny, I never pictured you two together. Aida’s so wild. I didn’t think she’d let one of the glitterati put a ring on her finger.”
If Aida is a rock, then I’m the fucking ocean. And I’m going to beat against her, over and over, wearing her down one pebble at a time. Until I’ve broken her up and swallowed her whole.
Get over yourself 🙄 She’s about to rock your shit in the next solid 20% of this book. I can feel it.
The great Callum Griffin. He’s their JFK, and I’m supposed to be their Jackie Kennedy. I’d rather be Lee Harvey Oswald.
But when I break up with a woman, I feel the same as when I throw away an old pair of shoes. I know I’ll find a new one soon enough.
“At least I’m a Topps Mickey Mantle,” I tell her. “I doubt you’d be an ‘86 Jose Canseco.”
I put my lips up against his ear and I whisper, “Do you want me, Cal?” “I don’t want you,” he moans, his voice husky and raw. “I need you.”
“You’re mine, Aida,” Callum growls in my ear. “I’ll kill anyone who tries to touch you.”
“If you EVER talk to my wife like that again, I’ll empty that clip in your chest.”
To be desperately aroused and then aggressively serviced like this is just so . . . satisfying. On the level of popsicles on a hot day, or a bratty kid falling on their face. I am at peak happiness. I don’t just want this. I fucking need it.
“Capisco. Si. Sarò lì presto.” She hangs up the call, turning to face me.
“Can I talk to you for a minute, boss?” he says.
Here we fucking go 🙄 Jealous snitch bitch
I can’t believe it. I think I’m falling in love.
Trust is rarer than love. It’s putting your fate, your happiness, your life in someone’s hands. Hoping they keep it safe.
“I love you,” she says. “Did I tell you that yet?” “No,” I grin. “Tell me again.”
