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I’d respect him more if he were an honest asshole instead of a fake nice guy.
“Forgetting a debt doesn’t mean it’s paid.” Or “There’s no such thing as bad publicity, except your own obituary.”
It’s a problem I seem to have again and again. I get to know someone and I start picking away at all their flaws. I notice inconsistencies in their statements. Holes in logic in their arguments. I wish I could turn off that part of my brain, but I can’t. My father would say that I expect too much from people. “No one’s perfect, Riona. Least of all yourself.” I know that. I notice my own flaws more than anyone’s—I can be cold and unwelcoming. Obsessive. Quick to get angry and slow to forgive. Worst of all, I’m easily annoyed. Like when a man becomes repetitive.
Our business and our personal ties are so deeply intertwined that I would hardly know my father, mother, or siblings outside of “work.”
I don’t believe in love. I’m not denying it exists—I’ve seen it happen for other people. I just don’t believe it will ever happen for me. My love for my family is like the roots of an oak tree. A part of the tree, necessary for life. It’s always been there and it always will be. But romantic love . . . I’ve never experienced it. Maybe I’m just too selfish. I can’t imagine loving somebody more than I love my own comfort and having my own way.
But it doesn’t make much sense that they’d try to kill me. Drown me in the pool, and my family will just hire someone else to do the paperwork.” She says it calmly, without emotion. But I think I hear an edge of bitterness in her voice. Like she really thinks the Griffins would just carry on with their project, barely missing her at all.
“I don’t think you get an office like this just by filling out paperwork,”
“I think you know as much about lawyers as I do abou...
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“Easy for someone to pretend to be a cab driver, too,” I tell her,
eyebrow raised. “Well that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? In case of murderous, phony cab drivers.”
Riona may look like a fox, but she’s got the temperament of a thoroughbred—haughty and high strung. I don’t think she’s bad tempered. She just doesn’t trust easily.
“He respected me. So often men act like you have to prove yourself to them.
“We’re alike in a lot of ways. Disciplined. Hard working. Unemotional. People respect that in a man. But with a woman, they say you’re cold or harsh.” “People say that about Deuce, too.” “They don’t hold it against him, though.”
And I feel that same drive to protect Riona. To keep her safe. Not just because Dante asked me to. Because she needs it. She needs my help.
“I’m here,”
“No one’s going to h...
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And at the same time, a tiny secret part of me doesn’t want him to quit. I know myself—I’m always looking for people to show weakness. To fail. And then I have disdain for them. A tiny piece of me wants Raylan to force me to respect him.
“Camille and I are the same,” he says simply. “Not in circumstances or experiences. Not on the outside. But in the things that matter, we’re aligned. What we care about. What we want. What we feel.”
”There’s the parts that are the same and the parts that fill up the holes in each other. You don’t know what’s missing inside of you until you find it in someone else.”
You get older, and when you get together, instead of talking about the people you know and the things you used to do, you can just talk about life, about books and movies and the world, and you’ve grown up and they’ve grown up and all the little petty shit you used to fight about as kids doesn’t matter anymore.”
Riona surprises me often. Like when she was singing in the car. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look so uninhibited and simply . . . happy. She has such a tough personality that it’s easy to believe the impression she gives off deliberately: that she isn’t vulnerable or emotional. That she can’t be hurt. That she isn’t human enough to take joy in simple, silly pleasures like singing along to an old song on the radio. I like both sides of her. I like her grit and her drive. And I like that she does feel things, underneath. I think she feels them intensely, actually.
But I’ve never known a man with Raylan’s charm and authenticity. I’ve never known a man who’s good at so many things.
I think you could put any tool in the world into Raylan’s hands and he’d figure it out.
Maybe I’m losing it, after all the things I’ve been through the past few weeks. But I find myself staring at him in awe. Thinking I’ve never seen a more attractive man.
“I don’t want to trap you. I want to unleash you. I want to set you free. I want to show you what you really are . . . ”
