L.J. Shen

Just as I expected, he turned our home into a library. Every inch of wall space is covered in floor-to-ceiling shelves. The living room. The halls. The theater room. Even his study. My legs carry me from room to room at the speed of light. Though I hurry about it, my eyes don’t miss a thing. How he catalogued everything by genre, by spines, exactly the way I envisioned it. Horror and mystery in the study. Travel and cooking in the kitchen. Romance and erotica in the bedroom

“It’s her birthday. Would you rather I ignored it?”

“I’d rather you break up with her,”

“So you’re taking her to a spa,”

“I wouldn’t upset my girlfriend, unless I was eager to get out of here in several pieces.”

“Remember, Baron, we don’t know what the will says.” Jo shook her head slowly, her eyes hard. “There will be no mercy for those who have not shown mercy to others.” She was quoting the Bible now.

Nice touch. I distinctly remembered Thou shalt not kill somewhere in there, too.

I was a little mad at Dean for making that crude joke.

I was a lot mad at Vicious, Jaime, and Trent for acting like I was a North Korean dictator.

this man didn’t do relationships. He did destructions. And one of his past projects was my life.

Being at that man’s mercy was like getting comfortable inside a golden cage with a hungry tiger.

We shared a history.

I had feelings for him.

Bad feelings, good feelings…in short, too many feeling.