My Sadistic Billionaire - Wicked First Love

Did she not know all her smiles could only be for him?

A bus slowed to a stop in front of the two.

Any moment now, the two would leave, and his body tensed at the realization. His fists clenched and unclenched, and he inhaled roughly.

Let it go, Valencia.

Let her leave.

But his feet were already moving even before he could complete the thought.

If he didn’t stop her from leaving, it wouldn’t just be her kisses that would belong to the boy, he thought savagely.

It would be her body.

And the moment he thought that, there was no turning back.

Chapter Four

Women loved chick flicks, and most of them liked the parts where the couples kissed, flirted, and made up. Some even liked the meet-cute parts best because these were the moments that gave them hope. These boy-meets-girl scenes ranged from realistic to impossible, but even so, all of them made a girl hope that one fateful day, the boy destined for her would come, however improbable.

But not all women were the same.

For women like Lane, it was the part where two people in love were hurting that they liked the most. Women like Lane saw pain as the other side of love, and it was both emotions that made their hearts beat hard and fast.

While most women hated Richard Gere for failing Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman—-

While most women wanted Heath Ledger (God rest his soul) for what he did to Julia Stiles in Ten Things I Hate about You—-

Women like Lane were different.

Women like Lane craved such scenes.

For them, the torment was necessary, the only way for a man to understand what he once had...and lost. For women like Lane, the storm had to come before the rainbow, and most importantly of all, women like Lane believed that being hurt was a beautiful thing, but only if they were being hurt by the right person.

Pain, not joy, was what made life real, and it was pain – not kindness – that yielded its power to love.

It was a twisted little truth that few would ever understand, a truth that would eventually open Lane’s eyes to the nature of her soul, the secret she was born with, and her destiny.

But she wasn’t to learn any of this...until the day Angelo started hurting her.

In the days that she would see her fallen angel with another girl, Lane would always end up asking herself why. Why couldn’t she start hating him? Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? Why?

The answers eluded her, and so did any sense of self-righteous anger. Even as her heart continued to ache and each day that passed became a darker shade of gray, she was unable to stop waiting.

Wait, a small voice inside of her insisted, forbidding her to cry at night, forbidding her to lose hope.

Wait.

It was a promise, an entreaty...and a command.

Wait.

And so she waited.

She waited and waited, and before Lane knew it, the semester had ended, and it was time to go home. She stood next to Josh at the bus stop, listening absently to her friend’s mix of diatribe and advice.

You’ll forget him soon enough when you’re back with your family.

You don’t deserve someone like him. He’s too good for you.

On and on it went, but even though she knew everything that her friend had said made perfect sense, a part of her refused to believe a word of it.

Wait, that part of her insisted.

Even as her heart had crumbled into its last few pieces, that part of her refused to relinquish its hold on its unspoken dreams.

Wait.

Beside her, Josh was asking in an oddly petulant voice, “Is he really that special?”

She watched him kick a pebble out of his way, his frustration evident. She opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again a moment later. How could she explain something she didn’t even understand herself?

“Never mind.” Josh’s tone had turned harsh. “Your silence says enough.”

“Josh, I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for, only knew that she felt obliged to. “I appreciate you looking after me, really, but—-”

“He’s not coming back, Lane!”

Josh’s sudden yell startled her, and she stammered, “Josh, calm down—-”

“You need to see the truth for yourself!” Josh was still yelling, and he was gripping her shoulders now and shaking so hard her eyeglasses were in danger of slipping off her nose. “He’s never coming back—-”

“Josh, please—-” She managed to push her glasses up and tried to wriggle out of his hold.

“Never coming back—-”

And out of nowhere, someone interrupted almost languidly, “Ah, but I have.”

PANIC had not figured in Angelo’s life for so long a time, and it was mostly because there was nothing – and no one – he cared enough to want to keep. Until her.

He didn’t pause to even think of how uncool he was being or worry about what other people would think. Even when he was playing the villain, there had still been rules that he abided by. Be in control, be polite, and most of all, be emotionally detached. These were what made him seem unattainable to women, what made them want him more. But these were also what kept him safe.