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Chapter 57

We’re lying there in the blissful afterglow, snuggled against each other in the tiny single bed, laughing whenever our movements cause the springs to squeak, when a stray thought enters my head.

“It is kind of weird that you gambled everything – your career, your fortune – on what’s basically an illegal hobby,” I muse.

“Well, it makes me feel alive. Nothing else really does.”

Warning bells start going off.

“…nothing?” I ask, shocked.

He laughs. “Well, what we just did obviously does…”

“But nothing else?”

I guess he thinks I’m fishing for a compliment, because he tries to kiss me. “Nothing else until I met you.”

I straight-arm him and back up to the edge of the twin bed so I can look him in the eye.

Something tells me I need to see his eyes when I hear his answer.

“Hold on. Nothing makes you feel as alive as being a thief?”

He gets an irked look on his face. “Don’t use the word ‘thief.’”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s cheap.”

“Uhhh, and accurate.”

“No, it’s not. A thief is somebody who bash
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