Kylie Bray (Love, Hate and Billions)

Chapter 49 (Kylie)

I stand here and look at Vincent, his entire body covered in blood splatters.

I don't cry, or frown or say anything about what I am seeing. I press my lips together, look at him from

his head to shoes and up again.

“Are you done, I want to go home.” I say to him.

His eyes still stuck on the man, before finally planting itself on me.

With his blood splattered face and cold hard gaze, I see the killer, I see it in his eyes. This content © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

“Yes.”

He walks past me leaving me to look at the now dead rapist. I don't even recognize his face any longer.

Some small part of me, very small understands that I am now an accomplice to this man's death. I just

don't care.

Shaking my head I walk out of this place.

It is another thirty minutes before Vincent joins me in the car and we finally get to leave.

He is wearing a new shirt, his hands now washed, face clean. I wonder how much blood is soaked in

those hands of his.

“Have you decided about the dress,” the question confuses me.

There he just tortured a man to death and he is asking me about a dress.

“No, I haven't. I did decide that it's time I went home,” I tell him.

Actually I haven't thought about it, but I do have my own place and I should go home.

I need to get back to University, finish my degree.

“Not yet. I want to come with you, I still have some business to attend to this side first.”

“I wasn't asking for permission, I am not your prisoner.”

“And it isn't up for discussion. When I say we ready to leave, we leave.”

His words are meant to keep me quiet. I hear him talking to his soldiers that way, but it doesn't do a

thing to me.

He can't hurt me more than I’ve already been hurt.

“I hate you,” I say softly, but loud enough that he hears it.

“So you keep saying.” We're quiet for a few minutes when I think of what he did for me today.

“Thank you,” I say to him.

“For what?” He asks, not taking his attention off the road.

“For taking me to see the family.”

His free hand goes to my thigh, and he squeezes it in affection. I want to shove it off but I hold myself

back.

“Don't thank me, Kylie, my intentions were not noble, I can't have your body if I don't have your mind

first.” His words cause a small spark of something to ignite in me.

And I watch his profile, his indent on his neck, the sharp curve of his jaw, the stubble that has already

started to grow.

His prominent nose and brown eyes framed between long curled eyelashes.

And I won't lie and say I feel nothing, I feel something, small, warming inside of me.

“Have you ever loved somebody Vincent?”

I'm not sure where my curiosity stems from but I am curious.

“Yes, once, years ago,” his jaw tightens and I watch the kick of his throat as he says those words.

“I never knew that.”

“She died. Not many do.”

He doesn't offer any further information, and I don't ask. I feel as if I already asked too much.

Once we are back in the suite I leave Vincent and go run myself a hot bath.

I step out of the clothes I am wearing, purposely not looking down at my body, and jump into the

running bath.

The oval shape cream four-sitter bath fills as I sink into the tub.

The door for the bathroom opens and I sit up, turning to see who it is.

And for a split second, I think it is someone else. Someone bad. It is someone bad.

“Why are you barging in.”

Vincent stops in front of me, his shirt partially open halfway down.

I stare at him, thinking of the time when I was in love with this man and again I try to feel those feelings

but I can't.

“I thought I could join you.” Switching off the tap, he doesn't wait for my reply or answer and I don't give

it to him.

I just watch him as he removes his clothes.