Year Two (Kingmakers, #2)

by Sophie Lark

“Tell me about the Marilyn dress,” I say. “It was hot pink. Perfectly-fitted. With long, matching gloves. I don’t even look good in pink, but the color was so vivid and so powerful . . . you don’t think of pink being powerful, but it can be. On the right person.” “I don’t believe you,” I say. “What do you mean?” “I don’t believe you don’t look good in pink.” Zoe’s cheeks flush a shade lighter than her lips, and I say, “See—you’re pink right now, and you look better than ever.” Zoe fixes me with those light-green eyes, that always seem to have a storm behind them. “Are you flirting with me, Miles?” she asks. I consider denying it. But Zoe is so honest, it demands the same from me. “Yes,” I say simply. “I definitely am.” “Do you think that’s a good idea?” “No. And I don’t give a fuck. I’m going to keep doing it, unless you tell me to stop.” I watch her face closely, to see her reaction to this. She considers. “I don’t want you to stop,” she says. “Good. ‘Cause I wasn’t going to.” She laughs. I don’t know if I ever heard Zoe laugh before this year. It’s a captivating sound, low and intimate, meant only for me. “I knew you were trouble,” she says. “You have no idea,” I tell her.