Chapter 70

• Leo’s POV
• The rain surprised us that day, its soft paters hitting the windows. Each drop fell like a stroke, casting an almost straight line on the panes. The candle on the table danced like it could feel the wind, swaying side to side in a nature-induced choreography.
• I could smell the book in my hands – coffee and old paper. It tingled my senses, and I leaned forward on the table, lost in the pages. It told a tale of hedonism and disillusionment and tasted of champagne and blood. Unconsciously, I wondered what Lila thought of the Great Gatsby.