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The radio is playing Drake. He changed my station. Are there no depths to which this man will not sink? I snap it back to Top Hits, swapping over to “Watermelon Sugar” instead. Thank you, Harry Styles. You’re a true gentleman. You would never fuck with a woman’s torque wrenches and then force her to listen to Canada’s worst export.
I’ve also never looked at Nero for so long before. I never could. I could only steal glances, knowing that he’s so high-strung, so alert, that each time I was risking him turning that blazing stare on me, shrinking me down to nothing in the heat of his gaze. I didn’t want to draw his attention. I didn’t want him to cut me down for daring to look at him. Now my eyes are fixed on him like I’m seeing him for the first time. It’s too much. He fills my brain. Maybe it’s the adrenaline of the moment, but I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
God almighty, why did you give the man with the blackest soul the most heavenly eyes? They’re long, narrow, and light gray in color. Lighter than his skin. The gray almost looks silver, shot through with darker bands that radiate out from the pupil like a starburst. He turns those eyes on me, sparing a glance from the road. It feels like a spike driving into my chest. For just a second, I wish that I were beautiful, so he’d want to look at me the way I’m looking at him.
The truth is that Camille isn’t my type at all. But I sort of felt like we might be becoming friends—a little bit. I kind of liked her. And I don’t like anybody. I barely like my own family. In fact, right now, I’m only 50/50 on Aida.
I don’t like being out of control of myself.
If you could see my whole life laid out on a string, this would be the one bright bead. The one moment of happiness.
It’s funny how the most beautiful faces are atypical. Nero doesn’t look like Brad Pitt or Henry Cavill—he looks only like himself.
I don’t deserve it. I’m not kind. I’m not understanding. But . . . I want to deserve it. I want to be a safe haven for her. Even if I don’t exactly know how to do that.
“I don’t ever want you to be jealous,” I tell her. “There’s nobody else, Camille. Nobody who ever made me feel like this.”
I want Camille like I’ve never wanted anything in my life. I want her to love me. She’s the only one who knows me, so she’s the only one who can. And I want to love her.
I never imagined I could feel something like this. This kind of obsession with someone.
When I’m not with Nero, I’m thinking about him. And when I am with him, I can’t tear my eyes away from him.
“I’ve always felt things . . . intensely. Or I thought I did. But every emotion I ever had, my whole life through, is nothing compared to what I feel when I look at you. I don’t care about the car, or the money we just took, or anything else in this world. Next to you, all those other things just fade away.”
Nero is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on. He has a fire inside of him that burns hotter than the surface of the sun. I know how strongly he hates—I can only imagine the kind of love he feels. It terrifies me.
“But I love you, Camille. I’ll never hurt you. You can trust me for that, if nothing else.”
“I love you so much it hurts. I’m scared to tell you, scared to even let myself feel it. But I love you, and I have for a while.”
I don’t give a fuck. I’m deadly serious. This is Schultz’s one and only chance to leave Camille alone. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her. I’d take down the whole Chicago PD if I had to. I’d murder every man in this city, one by one.
“Do you remember the first time I came to your house?” I ask him. “Of course.” “You said you weren’t anybody’s favorite.” He shrugs. “No, probably not.” “You’re MY favorite,” I tell him. “You’re my favorite person in the world.” He looks over at me, a slow smile spreading across his face.
Every time we do this, I fall more and more into my obsession with this man. I realize that I could never feel this way about anyone else. If I lost Nero, I would spend the rest of my life remembering what it was like to experience desire on this level. Pleasure on this level. Connection, admiration, love, on an all-encompassing scale.
That’s the harrowing thing about falling in love. I’m Eve in the garden. Once I eat the fruit, I can never go back. I can never forget what I tasted. And I don’t care. I would give a thousand gray and lonely years for one hour of this. I would give anything to have Nero.
“I won’t ever leave you,” Nero says. “Never, Camille. You’ll never have to wonder where I went. I’ll be right by your side.”
I’ve spent a long time with a hole in my heart. Nero fills all the empty space inside of me. He heals every wound. I know how dangerous he is. How intelligent. How ruthless. He makes me feel invincible, because with Nero next to me, nothing can hurt me.
