Kylie Bray (Love, Hate and Billions) novel Chapter 12

My breathing picks up as I inhale the strong scent of his cologne and the brandy on his breath. The rush of heat beating between my legs, a familiar wanton of sinful lust my body possessed when Vincent was in a close proximity.

On one side of the bridge I hate these unrequited predilections. It haunts me with what I could never have. The other side, that disturbed part of me thrives in the knowledge that I want this man, who is so unattainable.

I'm like a Lioness who wants, needs the chase.

If everyone could have it,

I don't want it and no one can have Vincent Stone because Vincent Stone is a man bound in blood and honor, born with death on his hands and a target on his back.

Vincent Stone is a made man and nobody owned a made man besides God, the mafia and himself.

“Jesus fuck Kylie, do you honestly think they want you here.”

Those words do what his cologne and brandy scented body couldn’t. They finish me.

“What?” I don’t recognize that soft note as it leaves my mouth.

Who is this weak girl?

Who is she, this girl that’s talking? Where am I, Kylie Bray, the vivacious girl from Liston Hills?

Where is she gone? I scream inside my head.

'Stop, you hurting yourself, please just STOP'. Except I can't, there is something wrong with my head. There is something not right inside me.

I am standing in front of this man, who I continue to love even though he has time and time again hurt me.

His face frozen in a harsh angry scowl. He is stabbing me, with words, but they still cut deeper than a puncture to the gut and I am allowing it.

What is wrong with me?!

Why do I have these feeling for this man?! I need help.

Who is going to help me?

“You pathetic, pining like a little bitch in heat, embarrassing me at my cousin’s funeral. I'm going to tell you ONE time, I. Don’t. Fuck. Little girls! , So stay the fuck away from me Kylie, I don't NEED your brand of fucked up, I already have my own.”

I flinch at the grit and harshness of his tone and the proximity of his suit covered body. His words, it is too much.

My tears spill silently as my mind and body cripple on the inside.

Did Vincent not understand that he tears me apart when he opens his mouth. He fractures me with his harsh intent. His demeaning words that is poetry to my fucked up heart, lyrics to my sickened soul.

Demon eyes glare at my sappy ones, telling me that he understands it very well, but just doesn't give a fuck, because I am nothing to him.

This is it.

I would no longer love this man. I would learn to move on from Vincent Stone.

How could I not, when it is obvious he loathes me.