Do I make you nervous, Madame Lambert?” “No. I just prefer to keep my distance.” “Evil isn’t contagious.” “I thought you said you weren’t the most evil man in the world?” “I’m not. But that doesn’t mean I’m a good man.” “I don’t think anyone would argue with that.

She tried to allow herself only one biting remark an hour, and she had already overstepped her allowance.

He pulled her back, off balance so that she fell against him, and he took her face in his two hands and held it very still while his eyes looked down into hers. Somber, truthful, painfully honest. "I love you, Chloe," he said. "Which is the most dangerous thing I could do.

She had the underwear of a thirteen-year-old, as well, he thought. He glanced back at her. But the shoes of a courtesan.

I want your innocence. I want your blind, unquestioning devotion to your father, your acceptance of who and what he is. I want you to look at me the way you look at him, knowing the worst. I want you to trust me, even when your brain tells you you shouldn't, I want you to ignore common sense and your lifelong need to protect yourself. I want you to give yourself to me, body and soul.

You don't believe in God, Rachel. You don't believe in goodness or love or mercy, do you?" "I haven't seen enough to form an opinion." "But you believe in the devil?" "When I'm sitting in a car with him, yes," she said.

Do I make you nervous, Madame Lambert?” “No. I just prefer to keep my distance.” “Evil isn’t contagious.” “I thought you said you weren’t the most evil man in the world?” “I’m not. But that doesn’t mean I’m a good man.” “I don’t think anyone would argue with that.