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Title Page



Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Breaking Her



It was the kind of relationship where I invested more than I had to spare.

I gave it everything.

And so when it failed, I lost myself.

It changed me. He changed me.

I went down with the ship.

My soul, burnt embers in the aftermath.

The fire of him ravaged it all.

He burned me.

Broke me.

Scarlett had always dreamed big. She was headed straight for Hollywood. Destined for silver screen greatness.

But in her wildest dreams she never imagined she’d be broke and single at twenty-eight, doling drinks at thirty-five thousand feet.

She was a glorified waitress in the skies.

It had been years since she’d seen him.

But one day, there he sat, gazing intently at her, ready to set everything ablaze once more.

Dante wanted her. Again.

Sure, she’d play along…but this time, it was his turn.

She was breaking him.

After all, love is war.



Copyright © 2015 R.K. Lilley

All rights reserved.

ISBN-13:  978-1-62878-038-3

ISBN-10:  1-62878-038-X

All rights reserved.  This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  This is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance of events to real life, or of characters to actual persons, is purely coincidental.  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction.

This book is dedicated to two of my favorite ladies in the world.

Vilma, I feel lucky every day to have you as a friend.  You are one of the kindest and most caring people I have ever met.  You make me feel less alone in the world, and shamelessly enable my shopping addiction.  I crazy stupid love you.

Anna Todd, you are a rock star and a class act.  You inspire me and get me writing like no one else.  You are my muse and rest assured that I am, and will continue to be, your biggest cheerleader.  I love you to pieces.



"I was born for the storm, and a calm does not suit me."

~Andrew Jackson



He was here.  He was actually fucking here.

On this plane.  My plane.  In my cabin.

How dare he?

This was not allowed, and he fucking knew it.

I slapped my rolled up flight paperwork against my palm agitatedly, over and over, like I had a twitch and I couldn’t stop.

“Oh my God,” Leona muttered, peeking out of the curtain.  “What’s he doing here?”

Humiliating me was the answer to that, but I didn’t say it aloud.

That bastard.  I was grinding my teeth.  Audibly.

Leona straightened, her kind gaze going sharp as she studied me closely.  “I’ll take the cabin this time.  You can stay in the galley.  You don’t even need to see him.”

Leona worked the number two flight attendant position in our crew, and she knew me well enough to know about him.

She was the good girl to my bad, the sweet to my sour, the nice to my vicious, the peacemaker to my ballbuster.

She was all the things I’d never be, and I loved her for it.  Adored the ground she walked on.

And she knew about me and Dante.  About our history.  She knew almost everything, though she was one of the only ones besides me that did.

I shook my head sharply, not letting myself even consider it.  He knew I was here, of course he did.  For whatever twisted reason, he was on this plane, had bought a ticket just to see me.

And I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how hard it was for me to face him.

Pride had always been my greatest weapon when it came to Dante.

Sometimes my only weapon, so it was honed to killing sharpness.

“I can handle him,” I told her.  And it was the truth.  It would hurt like hell, but it was a pain I was familiar with.

She bit her lip and nodded.  She was the sweetest thing.  So sweet, I wished I could be more like her.  I couldn’t.  I’d tried once or twice, but the results had been laughable.

Leona had been raised by doting parents that loved her, in a world where being kind was a virtue.

I had not.  I had been shaped by petty meanness in a world that had tried from the start to throw me away, and where being hard was the only way to survive.

“Is he alone?” I asked.

“I think so.  So far.”

 The so far wasn’t without reason.  The last time he’d sought me out, he hadn’t been alone, the bastard.

In all fairness, I probably shouldn’t have taken it so personal.  He was rarely alone.

I slipped into the bathroom with my makeup kit and did a quick touchup.

I’d been wearing a nude lip-gloss for work as I usually did, but I dug out my favorite red lipstick for this little reunion.

It was aptly named:  Blood.

No other color was appropriate when dealing with my ex.  I put it on because I was planning to draw some.

It occurred to me then that I was relishing and dreading this confrontation in near equal measures.



2011 - 2018