“The problem with being a genius, Celeste, is that you see everything. Even the things you’re supposed to ignore.”

Sandro sat on the fire escape of Celeste’s London flat, his legs dangling over the edge as he stared at the city lights. A bottle of cheap wine sat between them, a stark contrast to the vintage Cristal she used to pour for Lucian in that cold, marble mansion.

Celeste leaned her head against the brick wall, the cool evening air finally drying the tears from her encounter with Lucian earlier that afternoon. “You’ve seen too much of my life, Sandro. If you were truly a genius, you would’ve run the...