“There is much still to talk about,” Gregor cut in and Lucien’s eyes went to him. “We’ll arrange another meeting. Two weeks,” he stated.Gregor’s eyebrows shot up. “Two weeks?”“Gregor, I’m about to walk out of this office, go home and ask the woman I love to spend eternity with me. Yes, fucking two weeks and consider yourself lucky I’m not going to arrange a fucking meeting until after two months.”

“Well … when do you want to get married?”“Tomorrow.”She burst out laughing again. “How about next spring?”“How about later this week?”“A Christmas wedding, then.”“Thanksgiving.”“But that’s only two weeks away!”“Two damn long weeks, if you ask me.”

“How do you feel about going on a date with me? I'm abroad for another two weeks; you've got plenty of time to prepare yourself. It will be the best night of your life, of course.”

“I don’t like keeping her in the dark,” Jace said.“We’ll tell her in a week. What difference does a week make?”Jace gave him a look. “Two weeks ago you were dead.”“Well, I wasn’t suggesting two weeks,” said Sebastian. “That would be insane.”

“Think about it this way: If you had to launch your business in two weeks, what would you cut out?”

“Two things, that cat has about two weeks to live and that fondue smells disgusting.”