Kylie Bray (Love, Hate and Billions)

Chapter 26 (Kylie)

She isn't donning any jewelry at the moment but my mama is without a doubt going to make a show

stopper with one of her pieces that Uncle Hector so lovingly paid for last week, later on today.

A typical Christmas with this lot.

After another thirty minutes of endless chit chat with my mother and Diamond while watching in gleeful

delight as my sister chopped on those peaches, I am finally done with my daughterly tasks and

enjoying my third glass of champagne.

Ever heard the saying look now. When I was younger I used to stand in the same room full of the same

people- my family , my friends, friends of the family, wondering if they liked me.

I have never been the pretty pageant beauty like my mother and sisters, soaking up the oohs and aah's

and tenths of gossip.

I could never stand the chit chatter like my cousins and their parents did when they all got together this

time of year, even if it was just small talk.

And I certainly AM not a genius like Michael so I can't really get away with excusing myself every five

minutes to disappear for a few hours.

In all honesty, harsh as the reality may seem I’ve never fitted in. I am and will always be like my dad, so

today for the first time, with acceptance in my mind and heart of me being an outcast I stand here with

a flute of champagne in my hand asking myself if I like them all.

Truth is I actually don't and it is for the first time since I turned four, I leave the great hall and make my Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

way outside. It is time to get my hot date and flee this place. Mama would do great on her own, she had

Rae and Hector if she didn’t.

The sun has since dusted its way to almost nothing but a promise for tomorrow when I reach the

almost three meter long doors hand carved with intricate tribal patterns.

“Leaving so soon.”

Three words said, three simple words that coming from anybody else would have meant nothing, but

coming from that voice, that sickening yet poisonous voice that reels me in, causes shock.

My glass dropping on the floor, crashing into the tiles that have been shone for today's extravagance

kind of shock.

Unable to really believe my ears, I spin around, coming face to face with the man I have hoped to never

see again, Vincent Fucking Stone.

I am not going to lie and say that seeing him standing here, in his father’s house after so long doesn't

cause my insides to melt, doesn't elicit waves of heat to rush up my neck.

I am going to be honest and say that I am flooded with a tirade of emotions, and those are just a few of

them. The others are the hurt, rejection, pain, anger that also comes with the memories of Vincent.

Those emotions bring me an insane sense of comfort. It is false comfort. Because I know that I could

never truly get over him. How can I when all I will ever get is a small whiff of a promise?

It is on this day, the 24th December as I look at Vincent Stone standing in his tux that I realize

something direly important and utterly terrifying, I, Kylie Bray will always be weakened by Vincent, even

if I felt stronger. Seeing him will be my kryptonite.

All these months, my heart pinching with his memory, attempts to forget him, now down the drain.

I'm facing him, he is here and I am not fine. I am his, will always be his and he will never be mine.

So believe it, when I tell you it is so hard when I give him a small smile I give to the ones I don’t really

know, admiring him from afar but not to the extent that I am left to a drooling mess. Even though I am,

even though right now my heart is shredding, screaming for penance and the unfair order it has been

given.

Vincent Stone is not a handsome man. He will never, be a blue-eyed blonde prim and proper school

jock.

He is a sexy man, dangerous with eyes that lull you to do his bidding.

Six months ago when he looked at me he stripped me bare, left me naked with just that look in his

eyes.

When he smiled he lulled ME, Kylie, into doing his bidding and I did because I am addicted to him.

There is no other way of saying it.

Today as I look at Vincent Stone, I feel attraction and addiction. I am crippled by this man and I hate

him for it. I despise him for having this wield over me.

He must not see it in my eyes or my false smile because for the first time he offers me a genuine one of

his own.

“Thought I would BE spending the night running away from you.”

“Too bad, you thought wrong. Merry Christmas Vincent.”

I tilt my head, staring him dead in the eyes for two beats of a second. Then I turn and walk out the door

as my heart bleeds in familiar places. The places where I have buckets of blood dripping it's so full of

the open wounds this man has left in me.

“Kylie, I wanted to talk to you, apologize for the way I spoke to you at Reno's funeral, and at the

University.”

“It’s bygones,” I yell from halfway down the outside steps, not wanting him to see, I am breaking apart.

“Where are you rushing to?”

I jog down the steps ignoring his question and jump in my gold Mercedes.

Putting my air conditioner on a cool sixteen, I crank up my ride and I'm off.

“Oh baby do I love you,” I say to my car, as my heart pumps double in speed.

Enjoying the freeing feeling my ride gives me, I could purr in my seat it's so good.

Vincent showing up is not, luckily for me, I am not where he is.

I turn the bend and see his unmistakable black Jaguar speeding behind me and my body aches to

stop. It screams to hear what he has to say. To make it easy for him to rip me to shreds.

Never mind it is Christmas, never mind I too am allowed to enjoy this day.