Year Three (Kingmakers, #3)

by Sophie Lark

“A man does not drink from a toilet when he has fine wine at home,” Dominik replies dismissively.

Has anyone in the history of the world actually been “fine” when they responded that way?

There it is again. Nobody is ever actually fine.

“You’re an artist,” I tell her. Rakel smiles. “Thank you,” she says. “That actually means something, coming from you.”

“Look at that!” I say to Rakel. “I must have grown. A bit, at least.” “Wow,” she says, mockingly. “Keep it up and you might hit 5’2.”

“Compared to you, I’m Shaquille O’Neal.”

Am I completely fucked in the head that I feel a flush of warmth at his approval? Maybe it’s just relief that he might not have me murdered in the immediate future.

He tapped my chest once more, reminding me of our previous conversation. “The last bit is in here. You’ll know that it’s true. Once you’ve found it yourself.”

I saw her for what she was: a treasure to be protected at all costs. To have her, I had to become the man she deserved.”

“I don’t think your father wanted to die,” I murmur. “I just don’t think he knew how to live.”

“No relationship is built without mistakes,” he says.

“Snow,” I say. He turns around, waiting. “With Sasha . . . how did you know you were really in love?” Snow answers without hesitation. “I knew when I was willing to do anything for her. Give anything. Risk anything.”

I’ll grovel forever if that’s what it takes to get her back.

“Some people hate to see other people change,” Dean says quietly. “It threatens them. They can only feel in control when their environment stays static.”