Kylie Bray (Love, Hate and Billions)

Chapter 13 (Kylie)

I think about this as I wear out my Prada heels. Blinded in anger because Vincent with any other

woman makes me jealous. They have sex with him, they have his hands on their body.

And I? Me, Kylie 'Fucking' Bray, billionaire that can practically click her fingers and have men crawling

on the ground can't have Vincent Stone even smile at me.

I hate it, I hate me, I hate him.

No I still love him. My mind is a jumbled mess, it is thinking thoughts, bad thoughts.

“I'm going to church,” I yell, sarcasm rich and deep in my notes, “My mama always says it's best to

confess before you commit sin, then you can enjoy it better.”

“What sin do you plan on committing Kylie,” He shouts back, still following me, which is a first.

Vincent never follows me, ever. Why is he following me?

I am leaving this man behind. Forgetting about him is now the new in with Vincent Stone and I. And he

is following me.

“I haven't thought about it yet.” I say in all honesty, and it is. I just know it is going to include Vincent's

head probably detached from his body. Obviously I don't share this with him, but the thought definitely

holds appeal.

The vibration coming from my heart takes me for surprise. I stop mid-step. Still so revved up, my

breathing labored. Seconds pass before I realize it is my ear piece I keep for my phone.

With one last look at the scowling Made Man that now stands in front of me, I slip my fingers in my bra

pulling the earpiece out. I stick the silver metal in my ear.

My eyes involuntarily train on Vincent's shirt buttons.

The breeze of the wind blows in my direction and my nose greedily inhales all that which I would never

have, all that is him.

I love Vincent and I hate him for not loving me back.

It is said that a want is stronger than a need because of the desire for it. With Vincent it isn't just a want,

but a bone deep need.

One with so much control over you that you have no choice but to whither in a blanket of agony for not

having it.

“Where the hell are you?” The shouting voice on the other side of my earpiece brings me out of my Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

stupor and though it is hard, I leave Vincent standing alone.

Walking even further away from the grave-site out into the sun and closer to my car.

There is someone who comes before my craving. One person that holds priority in my life and I don't

know why. I've never questioned why. I just understand that he has to come first even if he is angry with

me. Even if he is treating me as bad as Vincent.

“Michael.”

My voice is strong, as my insides mix with a whirl of, hurt, pain, confusion, excitement, fear. It is like I

am sinking into an ocean of trepidation.

Michael didn't call anymore, we barely said a few words to each other via text and even that has

become nonexistent in recent weeks.

It's a sad day to admit that I am the biggest fuck up in history.

What I did to Michael those months ago on a drunken dare was life-altering.

His girlfriend bared witness to it, and even now I remember her screaming while Michael just stood

there watching her.

It was a few days later that David called, informing me of how bad of a fuck up I actually made.

Michael was waiting that night at the back of the club to propose to Willow. Unfortunately that day due

to me, Willow broke it off with him.