Kylie Bray (Love, Hate and Billions) novel Chapter 9

Looking at the rose I wasn't sure what she meant, and I said as much, my mama smiled at me,

“In order to understand love, you would have to understand hatred first, and the only way to learn that is to experience fear.”

Mama touched my cheek and walked out, leaving me alone with that single rose in my hand and my own pebbles scattered to the floor.

I never got what she meant that day and I didn't understand it for the eight months I dated Dexter.

I knew I didn't love him, I knew it because when he started liking other girls I didn't even bat an eye-lash.

But I did understand it the day Vincent Stone walked back into my life.

I was seventeen and my brother Kevin was already patched into The Satan Snipers Motorcycle club in Houston, Texas.

I was meeting Kevin for lunch in Seattle at a small restaurant near one of the Universities I was applying to.

I hardly got to see him since he joined the navy years back. And like always whenever an opportunity presented itself to meet with him I took it with both hands.

That day was no different.

I love my Kevin, I understand him as no one else does.

And the fact that he was meeting me, even though he had ‘shit’ to do, proved that my brother loved me in his own detached way.

I never need the words when his actions speak so loudly.

So that day I made sure I was a couple of minutes early.

I never thought I’d see Vincent walk into the same restaurant. What were the chances, right?

Dressed in a crisp charcoal three piece Italian Suit that screamed money and power Vincent was too overdressed for the small place. I remember the hot flash of nerves riddling my belly.

His eyes, his sharp indented nose, the strong jaw that probably got shaved twice a day.

I couldn't really say or pinpoint the exact thing that drew me to Vincent.

What did I see in him that day in the restaurant? I can't tell you because honestly speaking there is no other way to describe my stepbrother besides for what he is, imposing and dangerous.

Maybe that's what I see in him, maybe it is the idea of him, but what a god damn idea it is.

That day in the restaurant his dark blonde hair was short and neatly cut, no gel or messy do.

He was clean shaven and his sharp hazel eyes found me before I even sat my ass on the chair.

I wasn't sure what to do, I didn’t know whether to greet him, or pretend I didn't know him.

Because I really didn't know him, if I did I would have informed him that the restaurant was for Varsity Students and locals, while insisting he had the correct outfit.

I also would've switched my dark washed up denims, red and black Jordan's and black Vest for something more feminine.

I didn't do any of that because it was years before that day in the small family owned restaurant when I last saw him.

Then, Vincent Stone was a teenager and I was just a kid who didn't care that he never spent the holidays with us, or was always too busy to ride horses around the property.

That day in that small restaurant’ dressed in his four thousand dollar suit he was a full-grown man, and I was barely a woman.

That day I cared and I didn't stop caring.

There are times when I wish I didn't, but God save my tortured soul, I would do it all again.

Vincent didn't greet me that day, he didn't even look at me again.