Love after Betrayal: An Interracial, Billionaire Romance

by Black, Yuwanda

  Images of Gunner's hands on another woman flashed through Bria's mind as Maya talked. His lips had been all over her. His tongue had been on her. He'd been between her legs the way he'd settled between hers. She'd tasted him the way Bria had. She had everything that belonged to Bria, and more. She'd given him a baby; something Bria hadn't been willing to give him – until now. These realities settled into her bleeding heart like salt and lemon juice. It singed and intensified her pain.

  As much as she hated it, in the darkest corner of her shattered heart, she wished the angels of hell on whoever this woman was. And she wished that Gunner could feel her pain. What did that woman have that made him risk everything he'd built with her? What made her so special that he had risked the marriage he'd committed to for twelve years?

  Til death do them part? Yea right! More like til pussy do them part! Instead of making promises he couldn't keep on their wedding day, he should've warned her that he was a coward who would run away when things got hard. He hadn't been brave enough to confront her with the problems in their marriage. Instead, he'd taken the easy route; he'd found comfort in the arms of another.

  "Bria," Maya called, "are you listening to me?"

  "How could I have been so blind Maya?" Bria said, the warm liquid spilling down her cheeks signaling another round of tears. How many did this make since she'd learned the unfathomable truth a few days ago, she silently wondered.

  Maya shrugged her shoulders.

  A small voice in the back of Bria's head reminded her that she had been mentally and emotionally absent from her marriage for a long time; something she had planned to remedy as soon as she made partner. Gunner understood that. At least she thought he did, so Bria rejected the self-incriminating voices in her head, demanding their silence.

  She was not about to accept that she might have been partly responsible for some of the pain she was in at the moment. This was not her fault. It wasn't! It was Gunner's. He lied. He cheated. She'd trusted him and he'd betrayed her and their marriage vows. This was on him, not her. Almost twenty years she'd been with him. Twelve of those as his wife. She'd spent her youth with him. Now she was thirty-five years old, heartbroken and on the brink of divorce. This box was not on their list. In what hell did she find herself checking the ‘D' box?

  "I don't know if I can leave him Maya, but I don't know if I can stay either."

  "Sweetie it's only been a few days. You're in no position to make any kind of decision right now," Maya soothed, the tears streaming down her friends face as they leaked into her heart.

  "The hell I'm not!" Bria said, jumping up and angrily drying her tears. "You get two choices in this life Maya. You can either sit back and let shit happen to you, or you can fight back and go after what you want."

  "What does that mean?" Maya said, surprised by her friend's swift turn from sadness to anger.

  "It means I'm thirty-fucking-five years old and I know exactly what I want ... and I'm going to get it too!"

  Chapter 5

  10 MONTHS LATER

  "Ok father, now that we've gotten the idle chit chat out of the way, who is she?"

  "Who is who?" Carrington asked.

  "Your latest conquest. I haven't met anyone since Catherine. I liked her. I thought she was going to stick."

  "Really Alexandria. Do you think it's proper to question your father about his intimate affairs? Isn't it my job to question you?"

  "Under normal circumstances, yes. But nothing about you is normal father. And as I've had the same boyfriend for almost five years and my love life is more stable than yours, it's apropos that the roles are reversed."

  "Is that going to change anytime soon?" Carrington asked. "The stability of your love life, that is?"

  "Bryson is the one father," Alexandria replied simply.

  "Are you sure? You're only twenty-four sweetheart. Plenty of other chaps in the sea," Carrington remarked. He thought it was unhealthy for someone so young to be so set on one person, even though he liked his daughter's beau. "Is he going to ask you to marry him?"

  "I'm not exactly waiting around for him to ask. When I’m ready, I may ask," she laughed.

  "Renaissance woman," Carrington replied with pride, although he knew her a bit better than she knew herself.

  "We talk about it, of course, but in a sense, we already feel married. We live together. We even work together sometimes. We share our lives together. One day, we'll make that leap."

  "Are you sure?" Carrington asked again.

  "Does whether I get married or not matter to you?" Alexandria asked. "You never have."

  "You're my only child. And I know it matters to you, so of course it matters to me."

  "It doesn't matter. Not really," Alexandria countered, taking a sip of her tea.

  "Sweetheart you can lie to others, which I don't advise as a life strategy. But one thing you should never do is lie to yourself – or your father," Carrington halfway teased.

  Alexandria peered at her father from her under her umbrella of lashes. The same green gaze she possessed was staring intently at her.

  "Alright, I do want to get married. But he's not ready and I would never push."

  "I'm not saying that you should. But don't ever be afraid to make your wishes known in a relationship. Or, to let go if they're not being met."

  "Is that what you did with Catherine? Let me guess. She wanted to get married, and you didn't."

  "You're a very smart young woman," Carrington said. "But we are talking about you."

  "But I want to talk about you. Why didn't you want to marry her father? I liked her. Obviously you liked her. You all seem to get on well together, and you looked stunning together."

  Carrington smiled at that. "Yes, Catherine was – is – quite the woman."

  "So why didn't you want to marry her?"

  "Are you asking about Catherine, or are you asking a more general question about how and when – and who – men decide to marry?"

  "All of the above," Alexandria admitted honestly, thinking how she had never been able to hide anything from her father. Part of her was grateful for that. At times like this though, it could have gotten irksome.

  Carrington folded the newspaper he'd been reading before she arrived. "The truth is, Catherine did want to get married. And she wanted children. Unfortunately for her, I have the perfect daughter and an ideal life. And I have no desire to change it."

  "Thanks father. You and grandfather spoiled me. I'm not sure I would have made a good sibling."

  "I didn't spoil you. Your grandfather did," he said.

  "You do, and he did too," she insisted.

  "Imp," he smiled.

  "Pushover," she laughed. "Did you love her?" Alexandria asked, her impish smile disappearing.

  "No," Carrington confessed. "I cared for her a great deal, but it was not love."

  "Have you ever been in love? Did you love mother?"

  "At eighteen, you don't know what love is."

  "But you're not eighteen anymore. You're forty-two. Have you ever been in love father?"

  "Yes. Once."

  "Who was she?"

  "It was a long time ago," Carrington said, a faraway settling over his features.

  "What happened? Why didn't it work out?"

  "She was married."

  "Oh my!" Alexandria exclaimed. "The plot thickens. I never thought you'd have an affair."

  "Disappointed in your old man?"

  "I'm old enough to know things happen, so I know there's an explanation."

  "Thank you for that," Carrington said. One thing he knew for sure, he'd never love another human being as much as he loved this young woman who was sitting in front of him.

  "So are you going to tell me what happened? Who is she? You can't drop a bomb like that and not give me the details," Alexandria declared, her green eyes dancing with excitement the way they used to on Christmas mornings when she was a child.

  "Can't your old papa keep some secrets?" Carrington chuckled.
/>   "Not like this. And you're not old. Now spill father! Why did you date a married woman?"

  Chapter 6

  10 YEARS EARLIER

  "Is it true? Are you married Syriah?"

  "Yes, it's true."

  "I see."

  "But I love you Carrington. It is you I want a life with, mi amor," she said in her native Spanish.

  "If what you say is true, then the decision is simple," Carrington said, his eyes boring into her. Had he ever really known her? How could she keep the fact that she was married from him?

  "I don't understand," Syriah said.

  "Be honest with your husband. Tell him about us."

  "I wish it were that simple."

  "If you love me and want to be with me as you profess, then you owe it to your husband to tell him the truth."

  "I know, pero no es facil ... it's not easy," she insisted.

  "I'm not accustomed to being with another man's wife," Carrington spit out.

  "Please don't be angry, mi corazon. Give me time Carrington. I want to build a life with you. You must believe me. But I need some time."

  "Time for what?"

  "You don't just end a marriage on a whim," Syriah insisted.

  "Are we a whim Syriah? Is that what we've been doing all this time; being whimsical?" Carrington asked, daring her to deny what was between them.

  "Of course not, and you do what we have a disservice by even asking that. You're not making this easier."

  "I'm not making it easy on you; isn't that what you mean?" Carrington asked sardonically. Switching gears, he inquired, "We've been seeing each other for five months. Why did you wait so long to tell me that you were married?"

  "Because I was afraid."

  At his raised eyebrow, she continued, "I was afraid I was going to lose you. I couldn't begin to process the idea of that happening. What's happened between us – it's all been such a horribly wonderful twist of fate. Meeting you, falling in love with you – I wish I'd met you seventeen years ago because as soon as did, I knew that you were the man I should have married; the man I would give anything to be married to."

  "And yet, you remain wed to another," Carrington said contemptuously, her words twisting his heart into a mass of knots. She was the only woman he'd ever felt the desire to make his wife; a feeling he'd given up on ever having. He had – quite gleefully – assumed he wasn't the marrying kind, especially after not having the desire to marry the mother of his child.

  Carrington took a deep breath to loosen the tightness in his chest.

  "Please Carrington, don't be angry with me. It's not like I planned to fall in love with you. In fact, I did everything in my power not to. I don't want to see your face when I go to sleep at night. I don't want to want to hear your voice when I first wake in the morning. I don't want to feel your lips on mine every minute of every day. I didn't ask for any of it!" Syriah declared hysterically. "But here I am. In love with a man who is not my husband. Hating what I see when I dare look in the mirror. Believe it or not, this is just as hard for me as it is for you."

  "Somehow I doubt that," Carrington said dryly.

  "I deserve that, but this is killing me Carrington. I'm the one doing the lying. I'm the one doing the sneaking around. I have never cheated on my husband. I have never been tempted to cheat on my husband – until you. And as horrible as it sounds, once it happened, I couldn't bring myself to regret it. How can I when falling in love with you was the most natural thing in the world? But I owe it to my husband to end this marriage with dignity. And that’s going to take time."

  "Dignity?" Carrington laughed sardonically. "Just where am I supposed to put mine in the meantime Syriah? I'm sleeping with another man's wife!"

  Syriah looked up at him, her golden-brown eyes swimming in unshed tears. "I want a future with you Carrington," she said, her voice a scrape of a whisper. "I want that more than anything. But I need time to untangle my past. I owe that to my husband. He's a good man. He doesn't deserve what I'm doing to him. You must give me this time Carrington. You must," she insisted.

  Carrington looked at her from hooded eyes. In spite of the pain, he admired her honesty and her devotion to a man he didn't know, but almost certainly hated.

  "Do you love your husband Syriah?"

  "Yes," she admitted. "But not the way I love you. I respect him. He's been good to me. And that would have been enough – it has been enough for seventeen years. But then you came into my life and nothing has been the same. I didn't know love like this existed. I fought it as hard as I could, but I now realize it was a hopeless battle all along. Please tell me you believe me," Syriah said, touching his arm.

  A teardrop fell on his light-blue cotton shirt.

  "I believe you," Carrington said, pulling her to him. He kissed the top of her head as she cried silently in the comfort of his arms. What a mess life can be sometimes, he thought, even when you take great pains to avoid the messiness.

  "I feel so guilty and so angry," Syriah breathed.

  "Angry?" Carrington asked, still holding her.

  "At fate. Where were you – this love – seventeen years ago? I never doubted that I was married to the wrong man until I met you. Everything I ever thought I knew about love, marriage, what a woman should feel for a man – you turned all of that on its head. I know it sounds trite, but I felt alive for the first time in my life when I met you. And the deeper I fell for you, the guiltier I felt. I knew I couldn't continue to deceive you ... or my husband."

  "So how much time do you need?" Carrington asked slowly, each word she spoke cutting deeper.

  "A month or two."

  Carrington exhaled; his bottom line coming to him in an instant. "Two weeks. If you don't come to me in two weeks, then I'll know it's over."

  "That's not enough time. Carrington please."

  "If I didn't love you, I'd walk out right now and never look back. More time doesn't fix a problem Syriah. In fact, it usually only makes it worse." He'd witnessed it too many times in his career as an attorney. Give a client time to bang out contract terms, and deals usually fell apart. Give them a deadline, and they more often than not signed on the dotted line. ... Two weeks for this situation was his deadline.

  "You can't mean that," Syriah said, her eyes filled with fresh tears.

  "Two weeks," Carrington repeated, steeling his heart against the pain in her eyes.

  He picked up his jacket and walked out.

  "WOW," ALEXANDRIA SAID. "When she didn't come back, what did you do?"

  "It wasn't easy," Carrington sighed, remembering the pain as deadline day came – and went. "But life must go on, no? So I got on with life."

  "Thank you for sharing that with me," Alexandria said, reaching out to grab her father's hand. As she squeezed it, she thought he was one of the finest men she'd ever known. He was honest; and the more she matured, the more she realized what a special gift that was, especially in intimate relationships.

  "Can I ask you one more question?" Alexandria said.

  "If you must," Carrington said gregariously.

  "Was she the one father? The one who got away?"

  Chapter 7

  PRESENT DAY

  Maya stepped out of Bria's large walk-in closet and put her hands on her ample hips. "Unlike in past years, you're a partner now. You have to go, so stop hemming and hawing and try this on," she commanded as she tossed a black, open-back, cocktail-length dress in Bria's direction.

  "I don't have to go," Bria insisted. "It's a huge firm. It's not like they're gonna miss one attorney."

  "You're not just an attorney Bria. You're running with the big dogs now. Again, you're a partner. And if I remember correctly, the party will recognize all the newly crowned partners this year. That's you. So get to trying missy!" Maya commanded again, pointing to the cocktail dress on the bed next to Bria.

  "One new partner won't be missed," Bria said stubbornly.

  "Stop with the ‘I'm not going.' You have to go. You have no choice. To keep t
hat fancy, schmancy title and the big bucks that come with it, you're going have to bring in the business like never before. You know better than I do that as a woman you gotta be twice as good anyway. Showing your face at the company Christmas party is one of the easiest wins you're ever gonna get in corporate America. Don't blow it because you're still down in the dumps about your marriage."

  "I'm not down in the dumps," Bria said. "It's not like I caught a cold and want to call in sick Maya. My marriage fell apart. My whole world still feels like it's falling apart. Don't downplay that. It's not fair and I have every right to be upset."

  "You're right. You have every right to be upset. Cry. Hit something. Drink yourself into a stupor. Fall into a tub of ice cream. But then you put all that shit to the side and show up when it's clock time. Don't you dare let your ex-husband take your career away from you too. It's been almost a year. Gunner's getting on with his life. It's time for you to get on with yours."

  "Just because he found it easy to throw our marriage away doesn't mean I do. You've never been married Maya. You wouldn't understand."

  "Oh stop it with the pity party. You don't have to be married to understand heartache Bria. We've all had'em. I doubt if a piece of paper makes the heart break any less."

  "Why are you being so mean?" Bria said. "You're my best friend. You're supposed to understand."

  "I am your best friend and that's exactly why I'm being so mean, as you put it. But you're getting on my last damn nerve with all of this mopiness. It's been almost a year," Maya repeated.

  "Ten months," Bria corrected.

  "Like I said, almost a year. It's time to get your sad butt in that dress and go find somebody to brush the cobwebs off your panties."

  Bria rolled her eyes. "I don't have cobwebs on my panties," she muttered. "I put on fresh ones every day."

  "Don't play daft with me. You know exactly what I mean. And really Bria, aren't you tired of being sad? Aren't you ready to have some fun again? To smile again?"