One-half of Deux Lectrices, writing about the things I read.
“Hello,” Dalton said. He stood, too. “I’m Reno Dalton. And you are Finley ... Bennet, is it?”
She almost snorted. She’d wager ten quid he knew exactly what her name was—or rather what she pretended it was.
God I want to beat the shit out of her.
IF HE KNOWS WHAT YOU PRETEND TO CALL YOURSELF, HE PROBABLY KNOWS YOU ARE WITH GRIFFIN.
Why does no one in this series fucking think? That would give me pause if I was like, "... he might know my real name..."