I said it was simple. I didn’t say it was easy.

But happiness wasn’t a screen of pretty pictures. Happiness was what happened when there were no screens around to record it.

He wanted the old Cleo back. His Cleo. That overawed girl who had danced with him in Paris not so long ago and gazed at him at as if he was the sun and she wanted nothing more than to burn alive in him.

Khaled’s mouth was hard and perfect on hers, hot and wild.

Behave,” he gritted at her as if he was in control of this, of her, of his own wild response, “and this will be your reward. Disobey me, and this will be nothing but a memory.

He tasted like the night and all the tumultuous stars above.

Ew. What? No.

When failure wasn't an option, she liked to tell herself, the only remaining possibility was success.

I’ve read that many major CEOs and assorted other captains of industry are sociopaths,” she replied, almost conversationally. “I imagine you fit right in.

I think that a happy life is earned. ... Because life itself isn't one thing or another. It's not happy or sad. It just is. Like anything, it's what you make of it.