“If I believed in romance, I’d be a puddle right now.” I took the last bite of my lunch and wadded up the wrapping.
“You believed in romance once.”
“Once.” I crossed the room and dropped the wrapper in the trash can. “That was before I realized love hurts. I gave love up the day I signed the contract with my agent. Love hurts, but pleasure doesn’t and neither does power. I had to choose, and I chose pleasure and power.”
“There isn’t a part of you that believes in love? Really?”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Do I believe it’s possible? That it’s real? Tangible? Yes. I believe everything you can tell me about love, but that doesn’t mean I have to believe in it. It doesn’