Leather & Lark (Ruinous Love, #2)

by Brynne Weaver

“If I ripped that tape off your mouth, you’d probably tell me you’re oh-so-very-sorry about fucking Savannah in our bed while I was away, wouldn’t you?”

Safe. Just like in nature, the prettiest things are often the most poisonous.

Never. Again.

It might not make for a pretty vow, but I do my best to make the execution of my promise fucking spectacular.

“Atmosphere is so important in these moments, don’t you think?” I ask as I bring up “Firework” by Katy Perry and turn it up to full volume.

There’s power in finding secrets and blowing them up in a beautiful, bright light.

“Exactly. So thank you for your totally unnecessary judgments, Budget Batman,”

Lark Montague is beautiful. And I have to stop staring like a feckin’ creep.

“Geallaim duit a bheith i mo fhear céile dílis duit, fad a mhairimid le chéile,”

“Lark never took the Covaci name,” Ethel says, her voice low and quiet. “She always said she would never leave that piece of her dad, Sam, behind. But she did it. For you.” I can feel Lachlan watching me in the rearview. But I can’t bear to meet his gaze. “Your wife just broke her family’s heart,” Ethel says. “And she did it to save your life.”