Sydney had been horrified to discover my home library consisted of a bartending dictionary and an old copy of Esquire, and at her pleading, I'd promised to read something more substantial. I was trying to think deep thoughts as I read Gatsby, but mostly I wanted to throw some parties.

The only thing better than imagining Dimitri carrying me in his arms was imagining him shirtless while carrying me in his arms.

What's purple mean?" Adrian put his hand on the door. "Gotta go, Sage. Dont want to keep Dorothy waiting

Do you go see her?" "No," I said, refusing to acknowledge that I'd just seen Lissa last night. "That's not my life anymore." "Right. Your life is all about dangerous vigilante missions." "You wouldn't understand anything that isn't drinking, smoking, or womanizing." He shook his head. "You're the only one I want, Rose." "Well, you can keep feeling that way, but you're going to have to keep waiting." "Much longer?" He asked me. "I don't know." Hope blossomed on Adrian's face. "That's the most optimistic thing you've told me so far.

If you try to turn me against Lissa one more time the stories are going to be about you bleeding because I'll have ripped your throat out!

Oh God. She probably thinks we were off doing—you know—romantic type, um, things—

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.