Breathe Me (Billionaire Bullies 1)

Chapter 3

Shana

Three years later

Speaking up against Vincent during my freshman year was a big mistake. It’s my last year, and I don’t have any friends. I’m completely alone, and no one dares to make friends with me—no doubt because of Vincent’s influence. After I disrespected him during my first year, he ordered every student to keep their distance from me, and since he owns most of the companies in the city, or at least will own them in the future, no one dared to question him.

I don’t blame them.

Angering Vincent isn’t wise, and going up against him can lead to a person not being hired in the future. Men like Vincent remember when a person disobeys his will. He is accustomed to having his way, and if he doesn’t get it, someone always pays the price.

Vincent could ruin a person if he wanted to.

I shudder multiple times while trying hard not to spit out my food. Thinking about how powerful that man is makes me uneasy to the point I can barely breathe and sit still. A single bad word from his sinful mouth can land me in hot water. And since he declared me his enemy years ago and continues to torment me on a weekly basis, I bet he has already ruined my future here in Sweden.

I’m glad Vincent usually lets his henchmen do the bullying, though…

I continue eating my food, pausing when a single shiver races down my spine. My Vincent radar is picking up tracks, and I see him watching me from across the cafeteria, gloating like a king in his seat because I am alone.

Beautiful bastard.

I hate him.

His chiseled features give him a look so heavenly I’m sure looking at him for too long can leave scars on a person’s eyes. He has put on more muscle over the years, and every girl on campus wants him, but not me. Because if you look closely, you will notice there is a darkness lurking inside of him.

Vincent’s every pore might ooze with raw masculinity, but his hardened stare tells the story of a cruel man. My heart aches whenever I look at him because even though the angels themselves must have had a hand in creating someone so beautiful, I know his soul is ugly.

Cold and emotionless. I’ve honestly never seen that guy smile, at least not in a kind and genuine way. I think the closest I’ve gotten to a smile is when I slipped and fell last year. The sick bastard laughed his arse off. He thrives on watching me fall deeper into the rabbit hole while I’m trying desperately to...breathe.

It’s not easy.

June still has that t****k channel, and she also spreads false rumors about me. She is eighteen, yet still sitting in the sandbox. And her stepbrother, the richest teenager in all of Sweden, is dead-set on making my life hell.

Vincent’s face flashes in my mind, and I anxiously tug down my sleeve to cover the fresh cuts on my arm. Pain is the second only thing that makes life bearable.

Not that school is that bad. Things are worse at home. I’ve been eating more snacks since I don’t have any friends or family. Food is another thing that makes me feel human, but my mom wasn’t ecstatic when she learned I had gained ten pounds...

“Can I sit here?”

I look up in shock at a girl with black hair and an irritated expression on her face. I don’t think she is angry at me, though. She even sits down by my table before hearing my answer.

Who is this girl? A rebel?

Her vibe and clothes hint at that. She is wearing a worn-out leather jacket in the color wine red, and I get the feeling she might be into motorcycles if I’m to judge by her Harley Davidson shirt. Funny. I thought Asians only liked Royal Enfield or Honda.

“All the other seats were taken,” she says and rolls her eyes when she notices me gawking at her. “You’re going to catch flies if you don’t close your mouth.”

“Aren’t you...” I bite my lower lip and lower my tone so no one else can hear it. “Doesn’t Vincent Johansson scare you?” I’m sure she must know he has forbidden every student from making friends with me. I’ve been an outcast for three years.

“He does,” she says, shrugging. “But he also drives me crazy. I think it’s absurd that everyone, from the faculty to the student body, treats him like a leader and do whatever he says. They are all sheep under his command.”

My lips twitch. This girl is insane to be speaking with me while Vincent is watching, even crazier for daring to speak her mind, but I like it.

“They are, aren’t they?” I ask.

She laughs and holds out her hand. “Mei Lin, but you can call me Mei.”

I take her hand in mine, shaking it. “Shana.”

We share a smile before Mei leans back in her chair and looks out over the cafeteria with her feet on the table. “I can’t tell who is worse, though—the sheep or the shepherd.”

“Definitely the shepherd,” I don’t have to think twice about that answer, and I’m not even sorry. “Vincent Johansson is the worst of the worst.”

“That’s rather brave of you to say.” A calm and quiet familiar voice says.

Vincent.

All blood drains from my face when I lift my chin and see him standing by our table. He is watching me, and even if I want to break eye contact, I can’t.

He is too intimidating and yet also alluring.

And I know that look on his face too well. Vincent is curious about Mei. He stares at me with a slightly c****d head and a silent, obsessional interest as if he is trying to figure out how I made a person go against his will and sit by my table.

“s**t!” Mei grabs her jacket and stands up. There is panic written all over her face. “I will see you later!”

She hurries away from the cafeteria, and while I’m shocked at her sudden change in demeanor, Vincent doesn’t seem all too surprised that she fled the scene.

“You making new friends, Shana?” he asks in that scary tone of his that is much too calm.

I notice there is a tiny smile on his lips. It must mean he is having a good day. On bad days, Vincent is angry and unpredictable. He has a temper—I learned that the hard way when he pushed me up against the wall during my first year.

He hasn’t touched me since then, though. Truthfully, he barely even talks to me and lets his henchmen do all of the bullying. Stealing my things, calling me named, or just shooting out a leg to make me stumble over it. Things like that.

Vincent is still a bastard, though.

I force myself to look away from him, knowing that he is trying to intimidate me. He has already succeeded, but I don’t want him to know that. I’m trying hard not to let it show by fighting back my tears. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he has already gotten under my skin.

I shove more food into my mouth, but Vincent doesn’t leave my table.

He wordlessly takes Mia’s seat, and my attention shifts to him. Now, I have no choice but to look into his gaze, and my heart immediately starts pounding.

Why is he so ridiculously beautiful? Vincent, unlike me, is tall and in shape. I’m chubby, and he is… Broad. Muscular. Hot. Built like an athlete without even playing on any sports team. How is that fair? Why do bullies always come in hot packages?

“What is her name?” his deep voice interrupts my shameless perusal.

I jump in my seat, but I don’t respond. I read somewhere that bullies grow bored if you ignore them. It takes away their power, and they will find their next victim. I’m hoping for that to be the case.

But Vincent isn’t here to surrender.

“Do you like her?” he presses.

Fear coils in the lower pit of my belly. I’m afraid Vincent is going to take Mei away from me regardless of my answer. Threaten her so that she won’t make friends with me. It’s my last year, and if he manages to keep me friendless for a few more months, then he has officially won the war between us.

“Answer the question. I won’t repeat myself.”

My eyes flash to his. There are tears burning behind my eyelids, but he doesn’t look one bit bothered by our conversation. If anything, he seems almost bored, and frustration runs through my veins. I must look so vulnerable right now, and I hate that.

Why can’t Vince give me a break? I’m already struggling with my abusive and alcoholic mom; I’m too tired to handle Vincent too.

“What if I do?” I challenge in a voice that sounds much too weak and broken. “Are you going to tell her to keep herself away from me?”

Interest flickers in Vincent’s green eyes. I don’t like that. Fear grips my throat, and I try to stand up, but his long fingers wrap around my wrist, keeping me in place.

“Stay.”

I glance down at his hand in shock.

Why is he touching me?

Vincent hasn’t touched me since that day when he pushed me up against the wall. He has only destroyed me with his words and made me an outcast. But this? This is new.

I continue to stare down at his hand, hating that his simple touch is making heat shoot through my body. My brain is so confused. All it sees is a stupidly beautiful guy, and it wants to touch him. But I have no desire to touch this guy.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask and mentally cringe at how pathetic I sound.

Vincent stares into my eyes. “I need to know.”

My heart races like I’m being chased, but I stay put, trying to slow my breathing.

“Know what?”

“If you like her. If there’s a chance that you might become her friend..” Vincent brings his face dangerously close to mine by leaning over the table.

My heart rate accelerates when his eyes come into direct view of mine. His lips are emotionless, drawn in a tight line as the grip on my arm tightens.

“I thought I told you that everyone is out to get you, Shana. You can’t trust her.”

A chill runs through my body. I despise Vincent, but even I can’t help but be captivated by his beauty. He is so damn close and blinks at me.

“You have new bruises,” he points out, reaching out with his free hand to touch my cheek with a feather-light stroke. “Are the bullies hurting you?”

Those words are what pushes me into wanting to slap him. It’s at the tip of my tongue to ask him what’s it to him. Why would he care if the bullies hurt me or not? He is the f*****g reason why they exist!

Half of the students treat me like I’m infectious because he told them to stay away from me, while the other half laugh when they see my face or shove their shoulders into me. Why? Because Vincent told them too! He is the cause of my pain!

“Shana...” He warns, and I lift my chin defiantly.

“The bruises aren’t from school.”

The bruises are from my mom. She had another episode of rage yesterday. But I’m not interested in sharing that sort of private information with Vincent.

I yank my arm to my chest and rise from the chair. His eyes remain fixed on mine, and I long to hit his stupidly perfect face but hold myself back.

It wouldn’t be wise to pick a fight with someone who is more than twice your size.

I wheel around, and surprisingly, Vincent doesn’t follow me out of the cafeteria. If only he would let me be... Sadly, I know he will come for me again tomorrow.