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I understand that in our work, doesn’t matter whether it’s acting or writing, what’s important isn’t fame or glamour, none of the things I used to dream about. It’s the ability to endure. —Anton Chekhov, The Seagull
My friends often say I’m like Chandler from Friends. That no one has any idea what I actually do.
No one is yours, and you belong to no one. We’re all just fallen foes trying to survive this universe.
“There you go, Venus.” “Venus?” “The hottest planet on the solar system.”
My gifts are always laced with intention, purpose, and venom. They’re a dirty, violent kiss. A mixture of passion and pain. “Aquamarines,” I drawl.
“You’re a rebel without a cause.” “On the contrary.” I flip a page. “I have a cause—I want everyone to leave me the fuck alone. So far, it’s been going great.”
Is she trying to shame me for watching them? Good luck with that. My conscience was last seen at age ten, leaving a hospital room with a feral growl, punching holes in the walls on its departure.
“You look like you could be in a movie.” Maleficent, maybe.
She is the kind of woman people say lights up the room. Grace, by contrast, is the kind of woman who makes the temperature drop to arctic level anywhere she enters. My heart included.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?” “Or weakens you.” I shrug. “Depends on the ‘what’ factor, really.”
Winnifred Ashcroft is the only thing remotely entertaining about this event, and feasting on her self-esteem is tastier than eating any other dish served here tonight.
She’s like that little ladybug spinning on its axis. Adorably desperate.
What did steaks have to do with all this? I’d always been a burger dude, anyway.
“Sounds like he was a piece of work. I can relate. Loving someone who doesn’t deserve our love is the greatest punishment one could endure.” A sardonic smile touches my lips. “Remind me why we love people by blood connection and not merit?” Arya considers my question. “Because humanity wouldn’t survive otherwise. People are generally not very endearing,” she says matter-of-factly.
“To tell you good riddance. That old fart didn’t deserve you as a son. I hope you know that.” She pats my back in a gesture more motherly than Miranda ever offered me.
“Hello to you, too, Alice.” Christian chuckles beside her. “Forgot your manners?” She turns to hug and kiss him too. “Outgrew them when I became a widow. Life’s too short to be a well-behaved lady.”
“It’s just that . . . well, Doug and I had been really close. We had something special, you know?” “If I had a penny for every time a leggy woman in this room said those words . . .” Riggs chuckles behind his wineglass. “Including your mother, now that I think of it.” Alice lets out a rowdy laugh. Arya joins her. “Because that’s what you need.” Arya pins Riggs with a playful glare. “A fatter bank account.”
Riggs is a billionaire who needs more money like Grace needs more diamonds. The best part is that despite his wealth, he lives an appallingly modest life. His lack of need to impress drives him to say things no one else in the room would ever think of uttering. Which is why he’d just handed my girlfriend her ass.
“Get off your high horse, sweet cheeks.” Riggs knocks back his drink. “We both know what drew you to the Corbins, and it’s not their character. No offense, Ars.” “None taken, asshole.” I raise my drink to him.
Riggs inclines his head, feigning grief. “My apologies, Grace. Please, tell me more about appropriateness. There’s no one I wish to get a lecture from more than a woman who fucks her stepbrother.”
“Hmm.” Christian swirls his drink, looking into it. “Definitely been to more traditional funerals in my lifetime, but I prefer this one. Pretty action packed.”
Grace’s face reddens. She turns to look at me, expecting me to intervene. “Are you just going to stand there and let him talk to me like that?” she demands. I smooth...
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“And obsession”—Arya sinks her upper teeth into her bottom lip—“is a potent poison. It tastes real sweet and can easily be mistaken for love.”
I am well aware that what Grace and I share does not classify as love to most people. But it is big, uninhibited, and everlasting. This is what Christian and Riggs don’t understand—Grace and I never have to settle for friendship with sex, the default state of every couple who’s been together longer than two or three years.
Our sex is always angry, hot, and hostile. Our animosity infinite. I traded comfort for passion. Safety for desire. Gracelynn Langston is a risky stock, bu...
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“I’m not obsessed with her,” I say, dry amusement in my voice. “I’m obsessed with having her. It’s the circumstances ...
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“You’re wrong,” Arya insists. “The circumstances don’t matter. What matters is you’ll end up being with someone who doesn’t care for you. News flash, Ars—the world is full of people who don’t care for you. So, when choosing your partner, you really want to make sure you find someone who’d be in your corner.”
Without meaning to—certainly without wanting to—I find myself scanning the room for Winnifred. If Paul is here, maybe he brought his wife along.
This girl, my dream girl, she was going to come from a big, happy family. We’d spend all our holidays with them. We’d have traditions and matching ugly Christmas sweaters and holidays. It was the dreams that kept me going. Because where there were dreams—there was hope.
“‘Hate and love are the same mistresses under a different mask.’
“You foolish, foolish girl. If you ever try to kill me again . . .” My grip on her neck tightened. “I’m going to break your pretty little neck, even if I’ll get locked up for it. Next time, you won’t be crying wolf—you’ll be eaten by it. Bones and all.”
Before I could straighten my spine and get the fuck out of there, she leaped forward, and her lips touched mine. She stole a kiss. It was sloppy and full of tongue and metal. It tasted like venom. Like alcoholic mouthwash and a girl I had no business wanting, but I wanted all the same.
“You taste like poison,” I whispered into her mouth. She grinned, biting my lower lip real hard, until the metallic taste of blood exploded in both our mouths. “Maybe that’s how I’ll end up killing you.” She licked the blood off my mouth. “With kindness.”
I narrow my eyes. “I didn’t peg you for the cunning type.” “Oh, I can be ruthless.” Riggs waves me off with a chuckle. “I just never give enough damn to show that side of me.” Huh.
“You love me?” I ask again, sitting back. “Yes.” She narrows her eyes, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “Why is this so weird to you? Don’t you love me?” “I’m not sure.” But I am. I’m sure and a half. I’m sure and fucked as a daytime hooker, because loving her brings me no joy. No fulfillment. I’ve come to think of love as a prison guard. Something you resent, not cherish.
Like grinding my dick over a nail file.
“Your underdeveloped frontal lobe is not my concern. Your underdeveloped conscience is.”
a leopard never changes its spots.
“I’m sure you’re just delighted with this whole scene.” Miranda pivoted my way with snark, trying to pick a fight. I swung my gaze from my book to her, smiling. “I’m amused more than delighted. Glee is such an acute feeling—I doubt you could do or say anything that’d prompt me to such emotional heights.”
Loyalty is not a tree. It doesn’t grow with time.
for Gracelynn, arctic mice—snake food from PetSmart.
“Gracelynn, I’m not here to tell you you’re pretty. If you want to suck my cock, be my guest. If not, move along and let me get out of here. This is too little, too late.”
The doorbell chimes. Once. Twice. Three times. “I’m coming.” Never have I said these words with so little enthusiasm. “Someone better be dead . . . ,”
“We’re very sorry.” The woman bites on her lips. Her chin trembles. “But your fiancée was involved in a plane crash. She died on impact.”
New York wears her weather like a weapon. Summers are long and sticky, and winters are white and ruthless.
Small-town girl trying to conquer the Big Apple.
“Because you don’t have to have a superpower to be a hero.”
“Superpowers are boring. They have no merit. It’s the power we find in ourselves that matters.”
Hey, and Winnie?” I turn to look at her. “You’re loved. Remember that.”
He looks like the angel of death.
