Kylie Bray (Love, Hate and Billions)

Because as he so publicly pointed out the down side to it was-

If you can't talk, you can't get the full experience.

Which brought the reason why Michael was inventing a system that worked from thought.

“Lights off, door open,” I order without raising my voice as I stride toward the white carved China (mainland) doors. Diamond's five foot eight inch frame walks ahead and her pearl glass nail polished finger tips keeps the door open for me.

Once the door is locked I turn to my young friend, who insisted wearing flats today, ready to ask the winning question, “Which of my brothers did you say was waiting downstairs again.”

Cringing, her lips thin, which isn't thin at all, since her lips have always looked overly plump,

“Vincent.”

Just kill me now. Out of all my brothers, Vincent is the worst one I could get stuck with tonight.

Normally they have turns watching us when we go on our rampage. It's the hard rule Diamond and I had no way out of when it came to leaving Liston Hills- our home town, eight months ago.

With Diamond’s dad facing charges on illegal fire arm possession and attempted murder, it was a no brain-er she stayed with me.

My dad was recently assigned with temporary custody of Diamond until her eighteenth birthday.

Due to Diamond's background and questionable family, my entire family worried about both of us and came up with the stupid idea that we get chaperoned at night.

My brothers don't trust bodyguards not to lie so they agreed to do it on their own.

Normally I have a few days to prepare my brain for which brother’s ass-hole-Ness I have to put up with. But not tonight, it's Michael's turn. Just thinking about him hurts.

I cried and begged for his forgiveness but all he ever said was, “In order for me to forgive you Kylie I would have to forget and that requires time.”

Though he said it over the phone I read his words for what he just refused to say - he would never forget, never forgive me.

mere thought of my actions causes something in my

that night, one hundred and eighty three days today since he called

couldn't blame

ups cost him Willow, his long time

the very day that I ruined it, on the night of my eighteenth

my right,

car fumes my nerves rise with pinpricks of fear spotting the Bentley waiting right in the center of the pick

Vincent's driver slash bodyguard holding

black dull shade with his crisp white shirt and

It just isn't him.

rough on

disfigured that

good reason. Those dead eyes

on the back mumbling a soft hello. When he stiffens at the brief contact I slide into the

wrecking it with

I huff,

frustration, when I am anything

tightens, jerking his head with a robotic nod that

was any other guy, I would've blessed him with my Southern

gaze

fact in my mind I pretend that he kissed my cheek as my other brothers would and asked me how

she gets in, earning her a chilling glare from Larus. Which

of it before turning my attention to the

Vincent to say anything, he is

I should've known something

noticed that

tense,