There Is No Devil Sinners Duet Book 2 By Sophie Lark-pdfread

Had I come here in my twenties, as an artist alone, I never could have
appreciated the beauty of this place. Great cities are living things, and people
are as much a part of their architecture as the buildings themselves. If I’m not
here to laugh, and drink, and dance, and fuck on my own gorgeous balcony
overlooking the canals, then why am I here at all?
I needed to feel that I was like one person to realize that I’m not so unlike the
others.
Mara is my other half. Not my twin, but the parts of me that were missing.
I always thought the sense of emptiness that plagued me was the reality of the
human condition. I never imagined the hole inside of me could be filled by
someone else.
In all my arrogance, I missed a basic truth that other people already
understood:
Everything is better when you share it with someone else.
Nothing feels insurmountable when you aren’t alone.
It’s so optimistic that I’d be embarrassed to say it out loud. And yet it’s how I
feel. I’m vibrating with the joy of it, until every color, scent, and sound
around me seems a manifestation of what I’m experiencing inside.
I’ve never felt so much a part of something. I am the happiness of the day,
and the day exists to buoy me up.
Right as I’m thinking that, some drunken oaf stumbles into my path, dumping
his spritz down the front of my trousers, drenching my brand-new Italian
leather loafers.
“Scansarsi!” He shouts. “Brutto figlio di puttano bastardo Americano!”
Since I speak Italian flawlessly, I catch every word of that insult.
I turn to Mara, that old anger already blazing in my eyes.
The drunk stumbles alone toward a dark alleyway. I could easily follow after
him. In the chaos, no one would remember another Rugantino in a black
mask.