It’s as easy as we choose to make it,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to mine. “At least, this decision is. Nothing’s truly easy, Georgina. Love and life . . . they’re wonderful, but they’re hard. We may mess up again. We have to be strong and decide if we can still go forward, even when things aren’t perfect.

Then it's settled," I said. "We'll do a dream conference call." That love and rapture faltered. "Wait. How is it settled? How did we go from me declaring my love for you to me being okay with a dream?" "It's Adrian Ivashkov logic. Don't try to understand it. Just roll with it.

Somehow, Sydney had an internal clock that told her when time was up. I think it was part of her inherent ability to keep track of a hundred things at once. Not me. In these moments, my thoughts were usually focused on getting her shirt off and whether I’d get past the bra this time. So far, I hadn’t.

This isn’t a game. We don’t want mediocre employees who can keep the status quo. We want souls. We want to win. And you’ve spent most of your time here being mediocre.

So far I’m not seeing a lot of difference between me and a carnival con-man.

I couldn’t help it,” I said, knowing how lame that sounded. It was as bad as Angeline’s “it’s not my fault” mantra.

Surely I must be a princess in an enchanted sleep. Any day now, this dream-no, nightmare would end, and I’d get my prince and happy ending.