Kylie Bray (Love, Hate and Billions)

I watch her tall lithe form walking toward the jet.

I stand in wait, patiently watching Vincent get out of his car.

His jacket is now gone, his disheveled hair giving the impression he ran his hands numerous times through the mass, on the drive here. A slight breeze, elicits shivers down my spine, as goosebumps prickle on my tanned flesh. I run my hands down my naked arms. My face changing into a frown the closer he gets to me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask straight away.

“There is obviously a problem, I want to help.” I raise my eyebrows at his blunt answer because him helping us in any way is foreign.

“We don't need your help, I SUGGEST you run along to your people and leave us to our own devices.” I am not sure where my confidence is coming from, it has never shown itself in the face of Vincent before.

Maybe the reason being is that my brother is missing.

Or that I know he doesn't really want to help, he just wants an in with his brothers, my brothers, and that thought, that knowledge pisses me off. My brother is missing. I don't have time for games now.

get smart Kylie,” He warns me, pulling his shirt sleeves up his hairy arms that I

You think I am smart, OH now I get a compliment, wow.” My sarcastic reply has those hardened eyes of his that I have spent months hoping would look at

want

pissed off, I

am more a Stone than you? They are my family

step closer to him, so close our nose could touch. His dark scent washing over me, a torturous reminder that I will never have him. I will never touch him. He will never look at me and want me. Vincent will always be a made-man and

for me. I have to let him

the Stones, so don't come here and expect a pity fucking welcome, because you are NOT getting one, I have taken all your little fucked up shit you had to offer, hoping that there is some good in you, now I am DONE. And when it comes to MY family,

hurt somewhere, waiting for somebody to save him. My best friend has

me, to a point

never love me. Vincent Stone isn't just my addiction but a sickness, and as I stare into his face one last time, I tell myself

as I march away from the man that for some unknown reason I love that I make a

this man and kill any feelings