Brutal Prince Sophie Lark Quotes

Trust is rarer than love. It's putting your fate, your happiness, your life in someone's hands. Hoping they keep it safe.

If you EVER talk to my wife like that again, I’ll empty that clip in your chest.

I can’t believe this. I’m marrying a child. And not a normal child—a demon hellspawn, like Chucky, or the Children of the Corn . . .

Calm water doesn’t need more water—you need wind to move your sail.

You’re mine, Aida,” Callum growls in my ear. “I’ll kill anyone who tries to touch you.

Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.

I’ve never been one for grand romantic gestures, but even under the most liberal interpretations, I don’t think waterboarding counts as foreplay.

Do you want me, Cal?” “I don’t want you,” he moans, his voice husky and raw. “I need you.

Real power isn’t working the system. It’s running the system. Building it yourself

Cal found me, just like he promised. It wasn’t my father, or my brothers. It was my husband. This man I didn’t even want. And now I can’t imagine being without him.

I love this woman. The day she set my house on fire was the luckiest day of my life. It truly is the luck of the Irish: perverse. Inexplicable. And utterly fantastic. “Do you forgive me for losing it in the first place?” she asks me, slipping her slim little hand into mine. “I shouldn’t tell you how much you could get away with, Aida,” I say, shaking my head. “But you already know that I’d forgive anything you do.

When he has a temper. When he’s angry. When he wants to kill somebody. That’s when I understand him. That’s when we finally have common ground.

I'll always find you, Aida.

I content myself with smiling up at him and saying, “In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity.

I’m glad he made sure she was comfy before he tried to burn her alive.

Having recently been grazed in the arm by my loving wife, I can definitely attest that having a knife slowly, torturously burrowed into your guts is about a hundred times worse.

There’s nothing healthier than olive oil and red wine. You eat like an Italian and you’ll live forever. It’s not good to be too skinny.

The great Callum Griffin. He’s their JFK, and I’m supposed to be their Jackie Kennedy. I’d rather be Lee Harvey Oswald.

Trust is rarer than love. It’s putting your fate, your happiness, your life in someone’s hands. Hoping they keep it safe.

I kiss her like I’ll never let her go. Because I won’t. Not ever.

That's what I admire about her. She's wild and sh's fierce.

Aida's watching me with her cool gray eyes. I don't like this new quiet Aida. It makes me nervous, wondering what she's up to. I like it better when she blurts out whatever she's thinking as soon as it comes to her head. Even if it really pisses me off in the moment.

Handsome, but in a stark sort of way—like he’d push you off a lifeboat if there weren’t enough seats. Or maybe even if you forgot to brush your teeth.

Neither would I,” I promise her. “I’ll always find you, Aida.

That’s why there was no emotion on my side, just indifference. You need push and pull to feel love. Or hate.

Understand this,” Callum says quietly. “You’re coming to that dinner tonight, even if I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you like a caveman. You can be wearing the dress when I do that, or I swear to god, Aida, I will haul you there naked and make you sit in your seat in front of everyone. Don’t fucking test me.

Great,” I say. “But who’s going to protect me from my betrothed? That girl is a wild animal. Can you imagine her as a politician’s wife? I doubt she even knows how to walk in heels.” “Then you’ll teach her,” my mother says. “I don’t know how to walk in heels, either,” I say sarcastically. “How exactly am I supposed to teach her to be a lady, mother?

The election is only a week away. Almost nothing can fuck this up for me now. As long as I can keep my wife in line.

I kiss her like I'll never let her go. Because I won't. Not ever.

And I'll use what I learn to destroy him.

I think the only dress I own is the Wednesday Adams costume I wore last Halloween.

I can’t believe this. I’m marrying a child. And not a normal child—a demon hellspawn, like Chucky, or the Children of the Corn . .

Actually . . .” I say slowly. “I do. I do love him.

I can’t believe it. I think I’m falling in love.

Our relationship has proceeded in such a funny, backward way. Marriage first. Then sex. Then getting to know each other. And finally...whatever it is. A feeling of warmth and desire and affection and connection spreads through my chest, a feeling that burns and grows stronger by the moment, especially when I glance over at the man sitting next to me. I can't believe it. I think I'm falling in love.

Isn't that the same with her ? She loves passion of any kind. She loves to be angry, stubborn, joyful, or mischievous. The only thing she doesn't like is a lack of feeling. Unfortunately, that's what I am. Cold. Restrained. Lacking in pleasure. Until I'm around her.

Let me tell you something, though. When she says those vows to me, she becomes my wife. She’ll belong to me. And what happens to her isn’t your concern anymore. She answers to me. What goes on between us is my business, not yours.

You like that?” he growls, his voice lower and rougher than ever.

Capisco. Si. Sarò lì presto.” She hangs up the call, turning to face me.

How are you feeling?” he asks me curtly. “Fantastic,” I say. “Can’t you tell?” “Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor,” he informs me. “I thought that was puns.

The young make threats. The old make promises,

But I know right now, if I find Aida, I'm not waiting a moment for anybody else. I'm going to go in and get my wife back.

I would never abandon you

I hold perfectly still. With five or six quick jerks, he’s cut the dress off my body, leaving it in pieces on the limo floor.

Have you ever done that before?” Another long pause, in which I think he won’t answer. Then, finally, he says, “Not like that.

I love you, Aida,” I say.

I don’t want to make this a cultural critique, but you Irish could learn to sip a drink once in a while. Not everything is a shot.

Trust is rarer than love. It's putting your fate, your happiness, your life in someone's hands. Hoping they keep it safe

Where is she, you fucking psychopath?” I shout, fists up. Oliver swipes the back of his hand across his face as fresh blood seeps from his nose. “She belonged to me first, and she’ll belong to me last,” he growls. “She was never yours!” I shout.

Then, instead of handing over the watch, she flung it over the railing like a fucking psychopath.

I put my lips up against his ear and I whisper, “Do you want me, Cal?” “I don’t want you,” he moans, his voice husky and raw. “I need you.

The truth is, I do feel abandoned.

He’s giving me a wicked grin, like he can’t wait to see how Aida’s going to fuck up my life. Unfortunately, I think he might be right.

Armageddon would be a welcome respite from what’s actually about to happen.

An engagement party! As if there’s something to celebrate here, and not just a slow-motion train wreck in process.

I’m gonna strangle him in his sleep the first chance I get.

I broke up with Oliver Castle three months ago, but he isn’t taking the hint. He might need to take a mallet to the head instead if he doesn’t stop annoying me.

I’m fairly certain my parents only had children so they could mold us into our various roles within their empire.

I don’t know what you’re worried about. I’m pretty sure she can take care of herself.” Dante scowls. “Yes, she can,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean she’s unbreakable

You wanna play at being a gangster? You’re just a bitch-ass politician. What’re you gonna do, rubber stamp us to death?

The number one thing he taught me is never to fight when you can negotiate instead. Because the outcome of a fight is never certain.

Opposites have a kind of symmetry. Fire and ice. Stern and playful. Impulsive and restrained. In a way, they belong together.

Dear lord. I’m a pretty opinionated girl. I thought I knew what I liked and what I didn’t like. But I might have just discovered a whole new category . . .

I want to stay on her side forever.

I can't believe it. I think I'm falling in love.

When he has a temper. When he's angry. When he want to kill somebody. That's when I understand him. That's when we finally have a common ground.

Riona got her law degree, mostly to prove she could, I think.

You’re going to marry Callum Griffin in two weeks,” Papa says.

Well that’s just bullshit, isn’t it?” Callum says softly. “You came looking for trouble. And now you’ve got it.

Good to know you’re not completely awful at sex,” I say rudely. Now she glares back at me, eyes bright and ferocious once more. “Wish I could return the compliment,” she says.

I heard her father hired Demi Lovato to perform. I mean, it ain’t Halsey, but it’s still pretty good.

Oliver was so whiny, putting on the guilt trips . . . like Jesus dude, get on Tinder, get over it.

Did you know Ollie was that crazy? I thought he was just normal crazy, like ‘I don’t want my food to touch,’ or ‘talking to yourself in the shower’ crazy, not like full-out Shining.

Frankly, it’s the best sex I’ve ever had, with the person I like the least. What a conundrum. Because it almost makes me feel friendly toward him, and I wasn’t planning on that at all.

If Aida is a rock, then I’m the fucking ocean. And I’m going to beat against her, over and over, wearing her down one pebble at a time. Until I’ve broken her up and swallowed her whole.

That’s what I admire about her. She’s wild and she’s fierce. It takes everything I’ve got just to get her to wear a damn dress. She’d never grovel in front of Henry Castle. And neither will I.

But there’s a figure laying in the middle of the floor, hands tied in front of her, feet bound with rope, head propped up on a pillow. Nice. I’m glad he made sure she was comfy before he tried to burn her alive.

I can’t fucking believe his nerve, booking a bikini wax along with everything else. He thinks he owns my pussy already? He thinks he gets to decide how it looks? I should wait until he’s sleeping, then slap hot wax on his balls. Give him a taste of his own medicine.

His season is ruined. Possibly the rest of his career. God, he might not even walk right after this. And it’s all my fault. The guilt is like a shroud, wrapping around and around and around my head. Each glance at Sebastian, each memory of my idiocy, is like another layer wrapping around my face. Soon it will smother me.

We happened to be at the same party, two summers ago. We drunkenly kissed in the boathouse, then he tried to put his hand down my bikini bottoms, and I shoved him in the lake. A couple of weeks later, we met again at a party in Wicker Park. He gave me shit about the lake thing, I told him he was lucky we were swimming, not mountain-climbing.

I content myself with smiling up at him and saying, “In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity.” Callum stares at me blankly. “What . . . what the fuck are you talking about? Does that mean you’re going to try to make the best of this mess?” “Sure,” I say. “What else can I do?” Actually, it’s a quote from The Art of War. Here’s another one I like: “Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.

Aida tilts her lips up for a chaste kiss. To show her who’s boss, I seize her by the shoulders and kiss her roughly, forcing my tongue into her mouth. Her lips and tongue taste sweet. Tart and fresh. Like something I haven’t tasted in a very long time . . . Strawberries. I can already feel my tongue going numb. My throat starts to swell, my breath coming out in a whistle. The church whirls around me in a kaleidoscope of color, as I slump to the floor. That fucking BITCH!

The great Callum Griffin. He’s their JFK, and I’m supposed to be their Jackie Kennedy. I’d rather be Lee Harvey Oswald.

Calm water doesn’t need more water—you need wind to move your sail.’ I probably need to find a little maniac like you.

You’ll marry Callum Griffin. You’ll bear the children that will be the next generation of our mutual lineage. That is the agreement. And you will uphold it.

But if the hot redheaded nurse is out there, tell her I look all pale and sweaty and I probably need a sponge bath.

He’s holding Christina’s purse in both hands, with an expression on his face like this month of marriage has been the longest thirty days of his life.

You’ll marry her, you’ll be faithful to her, and you’ll father children with her.

Oh look, they’ve even got a signed copy of Dubliners. I don’t care what anybody says, no one understands that fucking book. The Irish are all in on it, pretending it’s a masterwork of literature when I’m pretty sure it’s pure gibberish.

He’s their JFK, and I’m supposed to be their Jackie Kennedy. I’d rather be Lee Harvey Oswald.

Mi sembra un sacrilegio entrare in chiesa, come se Dio potesse ucciderci per questa empia unione. Se Aida mi farà arrabbiare di nuovo, le spingerò la testa nell'acquasantiera, per vedere se prende fuoco (Callum)

You eat like an Italian and you’ll live forever.

I have to know, once and for all, if Aida’s heart belongs to someone else, or if it might be available. Maybe even for me.

You don’t know what it’s like to always be the smallest dog in the fight. I have to attack first, and hardest.

So predictable, Aida,” he sighs. “Always fighting.

I never wanted anybody to “take care” of me. Oliver was always trying to do it, and that’s one of the things that annoyed me about him. Once we played pickleball with another couple, and Oliver almost got in a fistfight because the guy slammed the ball right at me. Oliver wanted a chivalrous game. I wanted a challenge.

He was always calling me “princess” and “angel.” And I always thought, “Who in the fuck are you talking about? Because that sure ain’t me.

He’s looking directly into my eyes now, his clear blue into my smoky gray.

Usually when I look him in the eye, it’s because I’m furious, trying to stare him down. We’ve never looked at each other quite like this before: open, curious, questioning.

Why do our bodies fit together so perfectly when everything else about us is completely opposite?