Page 25 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You

Rule two: Do not speak to her.

That went to hell just as quickly.

Rule three: Do not touch her. Do not kiss her. Certainly do not fuck her.

That rule didn’t stand a chance. I haven’t fucked Ophelia Bellanti, a technical truth. But it means nothing when my cock has been hard since the moment I laid eyes on her. My mouth has already given her what my head forbids, and I nearly let it happen for a second time today.

I kept myself together, barely.

Rule four: Hate without mercy. Never forget betrayal. Make her pay.

That one is, perversely, the simplest. A single recollection of what she did summons a tide of loathing I cannot stem.

If only I could stamp out the need for her and leave nothing but hatred, everything would be perfect.

Perhaps I just need one last fuck to get her out of my system. Then I can keep my head straight, and all that will remain is the revenge.

Isaak didn’t give me a choice about coming here. As one of the heirs of the Ferrum Syndicate, I was obligated to follow. But it worked in my favour, I had already intended to set foot on this island. His timing only made it easier.

I step outside and let the old doors creak shut behind me. The air is damp, it must have rained while I was inside. The courtyard is nearly empty.

I walk across the stone path behind the main building, past the open lawn with its benches, past the training grounds and the sports hall looming beyond.

Students are already running laps across the football pitch. I make a note to seek out the coach. If there’s anything worth my time here, it’s that. At my last academy I was captain, and here I intend to be exactly the same.

That problem, however, is for tomorrow.

By the benches Milo is already there, perched on the table with his legs sprawled across the bench, a lighter flicking restlessly between his fingers. Isaak and Hunter sit with him, deep in discussion.

Milo is the first to notice me and grins like the unhinged bastard he is. “Finally decided to crawl back, Vass. Tell me, did Ophelia greet you on her knees, with your co—”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence. I close the distance in a heartbeat and both hands clamp around his throat. He is one big motherfucker, after all.

“Get her fucking name out of your mouth,” I say, barely containing the fire inside me.

Milo’s expression barely shifts, that infuriating smirk is still there. It makes me want to break his face. I squeeze a little harder.

“I thought you hated her,” he grits.

“I do,” I tell him without hesitation.

“It really doesn’t look that way,” he says, face flushing now from lack of air, but the fucker keeps pushing.

I release him and shove him back, he barely budges. He cocks his head, laughing and coughing at the same time.

“I can despise her and be obsessed with her in equal measure. That is not your business. Utter her name again and I will burn you with your own lighter.”

“You wound me,” he laughs. Then, because he likes to stoke trouble and seems to have a death wish, he adds, “You could never kill me. Certainly not for a wh—”

I do not let him finish that either. My fist finds his jaw and I drive it home. He tumbles from the table, spits blood onto the paving and still manages a smirk up at me.

“Do not ever finish that sentence, Milo,” I say slowly. “I can, and Iwillkill you. Apparently, when it comes to her, I am capable of madness. Do not test me.”

Because I need to put the fucker in his place, I add, “If you play with fire, you will get burned. Shall I make you pay through… Octavia, perhaps?”

The smirk drops. In an instant the easy going Milo is gone, in his place stands the hard blooded Bratva product he truly is.

The look on his face, is one he normally reserves for his enemies before he ends them.