Don't be sorry you loved him. That's part of you, part you have to let go.

Did you follow me from the party?" "Yes" "I didn't even know you were there." His dark clothes indicated he must have been on guardian duty at the party. "So you saw the illustrious Janine cause a commotion by dragging me out." "It wasn't a commotion. Hardly anyone noticed. I saw because I was watching you.

As he looked at me, he seemed to send a message of his own: that he would still fight for me, that he would fight until he collapsed to keep them from taking me.

He didn't see me looking at him, but I could tell the ceremony was having the same effect on him. He was enraptured. It was a rare and sweet look for him, reminding me of the tortured artist that lived beneath the sarcasm. I liked that about Adrian—not the tortured part, but the way he could feel so deeply and then transform those emotions into art.

Please don’t get sentimental,” said Jerome. “It’s nauseating.

Didn’t understand love? Was she crazy? If she only knew what I’d sacrificed for Dimitri, what I’d done to be where I was now . . . all for love. She was the one who couldn’t understand. Love wasn’t a fling in a back room at a party. It was something you lived and died for.

Adrian was easily distractible by wacky topics and shiny objects.