GUNNER WHO? Bria thought, laughing internally at the thought of Maya. She had been right one too many times tonight.
Old coots. Check.
Handsome, young barmen. Check.
Man fine enough to make you forget your ex’s name. Check. Check. Check.
Bria cleared her throat as she fell into step beside the handsome stranger. Who was he, she found herself thinking.
"Now who's staring?" the green-eyed charmer observed.
"I don't know what you mean," Bria replied, dropping her eyes and fingering her beaded clutch.
His lips curved into a smile. "I doubt that. Your face said it all. Shall we?" he asked, indicating that they should make their way to the bar.
Bria felt her cheeks warm. Could he read her thoughts? She was mortified at the possibility.
"Did I say something wrong?" he asked at her flustered expression.
"No, I ... I— what did you mean when you said my face said it all?"
"When you came flying out of the restroom, you looked, well, angry, for lack of a better word."
"Oh," Bria sighed in relief. "I'm just a little tired. It's been a long week."
"That it has," he agreed as they reached the bar.
Bria took in his profile as he ordered their drinks. The smell of his cologne drifted right under her nose, almost as if his scent was seeking out hers. ‘He smelled edible’ was the thought that popped into her head.
"Too warm in here for you?" he asked, taking in her flushed expression.
"Tired, remember."
"In that case, I'm very tired too," he whispered in her ear as he handed her the glass of wine she'd requested.
His fingers brushed hers, lingering as he pulled back and looked down into her eyes. "You are very beautiful," he said, lifting his drink to his almost-perfect lips. It was a matter-of-fact statement that wasn't a come-on; almost as if he was telling her grass was green.
That made it all the more seductive.
Bria could feel the blush steel down her face from the roots of her hair. She was glad for her dark complexion. If she were fair-skinned, she'd be pink as a peach right about now. She watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. She felt a twinge in the bottom of her stomach. Damn, she was staring again. She looked away.
"So tell me, are you one of the celebrated, or are you just celebrating?" he asked, taking another sip of his drink.
"One of the celebrated, I'm afraid," she replied.
"Beautiful and smart. Deadly combination."
Bria smiled, embarrassed at his compliment, but liking the fact that he considered intelligence deadly.
"So to which new partner do I have the inimitable pleasure of being in the company of?" he asked.
"Bria. Bria Michaels."
"Bria Michaels," he repeated. "I've heard some great things about you."
Bria was surprised. "Now it's time for you to fess up. How do you know about me?" she asked curiously. He didn't looked old enough to be a senior partner, and she'd never seen him around before. Ever. SLAW did have 800 attorneys, but she'd remember seeing or meeting him. There was no doubt about that.
"I'm one of the owners."
Chapter 9
BRIA'S EYEBROWS SHOT up to what felt like her hairline. One of the owners? Him? He was way too young. How was that possible?
"I-I ... I'm sorry. Everyone knows all of the owners. They're much older. The paintings," she stammered. "You're not in any of the paintings," Bria repeated, well aware of how silly she must sound, but it was the only thing she could think to say.
He chuckled, those green eyes literally dancing with mirth. "No, I'm not in any of the founder's paintings hanging in any of the halls," he said, still grinning.
"Then who are you?" Bria asked directly.
"Carrington Shelby."
"Shelby," Bria latched onto the last name. She knew that Jeb Shelby was one of the principal founders of SLAW. As she examined the handsome specimen in front of her, familiarity dawned. She'd only seen the older Shelby a few times in her seven years at the firm, mostly at company functions like this for a few, brief minutes. The green eyes were unmistakable though; they were a carbon copy of the ones she was looking into now. "Your father ... Jeb Shelby is your father," she stated.
"Yes," he said, the cheerful mirth leaving his eyes. "He passed away a couple of weeks ago."
"I didn't know," Bria said, racking her brain for some company announcement she must have missed. She'd been so snowed under that she'd missed the news that one of the founders of SLAW had passed? "I'm so sorry."
Carrington shook off her condolences. "My father was a very private man, so we kept it quiet, per his wishes. An official announcement will be made after the holidays."
Bria didn't know what to say, so she held up her glass. "A toast to your father. But for him, none of this would be happening. So he lives on – in a big way I might add."
"Thank you," Carrington said, touched by her impromptu gesture.
"You're welcome. And here's also to enjoying the holidays the best you and your family can during this difficult time."
"You're very kind, Ms. Michaels," he said, something stirring in him north of his manhood. This was the kind of stimulation he missed having in a woman. Not since Catherine had he had it.
"Looks like the speeches are about to resume. I better make it back to my table," Bria said.
"I'll escort you," Carrington insisted.
Bria nodded wordlessly and smiled up at him, reminding herself not to get lost in the emerald isle of his eyes.
"It's been a pleasure," he said as he pulled her chair out for her to be seated a few minutes later.
Bria could feel his breath on her shoulder. "Thank you," she said, her insides somewhere in jelly land.
"Do you know who that is?" Teddy, her co-worker, whispered as he eyed Carrington walking to The Founder's Table."
"Yes," Bria acknowledged.
"I didn't know you were chummy with him."
"I'm not," Bria said.
"That's not what it looked like to me."
"That's because you're nosy as all get out," Bria laughed at him.
"I'm not nosy. I'm curious. It's in my nature."
"Just like eating glazed donuts is in mine. Now stop staring over there and mind your business," Bria whispered, becoming all too acutely aware of the stares from others at their table.
"Apparently I'm not the only one who noticed," Teddy whispered behind his napkin, giving her a ‘You go girl,' look.
Suddenly, Bria heard her name being mentioned. She turned to face the front as the spotlight hit her. She dutifully stood up, waved to the room and gratefully reclaimed her seat.
She could barely focus on anything that happened afterwards. Speaker after speaker took to the stage, congratulating the new partners, and outlining the achievements of the firm throughout the year. There were smiles. There was applause. Everyone got up to mingle again, and the band started the music. It was all a blur to Bria, as she continuously caught herself scanning the room for Carrington. She never saw him again at The Founder's Table. She wondered if he went back to the bar, or perhaps the men's room. The more time passed, the more Bria felt her stomach sink with disappointment.
He was technically her boss and most likely wasn't interested in her in a non-professional capacity. ‘It was probably for the best’, she tried to make herself believe. Who cares if he's the first man who had excited her since she met her ex-husband almost twenty years ago? Who cares that she was so sure that he was as attracted to her as she was to him? Who cares that she could even imagine having a fling with him? He was made to fling with for heaven's sake!
Whoa! Bria stopped herself. She bit her lip to feel a stab of pain so she could unblur the line between reality and her runaway imagination. She had to get a grip – and fast. She turned her attention to the conversation with two other women who had made a stop at her table. They were congratulating her, telling her that she was an inspiration,
blah blah blah.
Smile Bria.
Nod Bria.
Say something Bria.
"I feel exactly the sa-" Bria stopped in mid-sentence at the feel of someone's hand on her shoulder. She looked back, ready to accept another congratulations. She froze.
Carrington's too-handsome smile greeted her.
"You ladies don't mind if I steal the guest of honor away, do you?" he asked, his deep voice smooth like chocolate. He didn't wait for a response. He was already moving Bria away as she muttered, "One of the guests of honor."
"Let's get out of here," he said. He was a good head taller than her. She had to crane her neck slightly to look up at him. His eyes were light and playful. His smirk was suggestive. He waited for her to agree.
Old Bria would've asked where they were going.
Old Bria would've been too afraid, too unsure of herself, too insecure.
Old Bria would've said no.
Damn old Bria! she thought. Old Bria got cheated on by the man she thought she'd be with for the rest of her life.
"Things do seem to be winding down a bit," Bria smiled and nodded.
She allowed Carrington to lead her to the exit of the ballroom. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Her blood was raging. She hadn't been so excited to be in the presence of a man since Gunner. She worried that her eyes were lit up like a school girl sneaking out of the house for the first time.
They stopped to get their coats. The cold air outside stung her cheeks. She shivered from the freezing breeze and pulled her coat tighter.
"This way," Carrington said, exiting behind her. He walked right past the valet and reached instinctively for Bria's hand.
She hesitated as the stupidest thought popped into her head. She hadn't held hands with another man – not in a romantic way – since she was fifteen years old.
Carrington waited patiently, his green eyes promising something she was both afraid of and excited about, simultaneously.
Chapter 10
"IT'S NOT WORKING FOR you, is it?" Marla asked, looking at the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree in her living room.
"It's not you, it's—"
"Don't do that," Marla said, "Please don't patronize me like that Gunner. You owe me more than that."
Gunner rammed his hands in his pockets.
"Look at me Gunner Michaels! Look at me and tell me the real reason you don't want to be with me," Marla demanded. "Consider ‘honesty’ your Christmas present to me," she said snidely.
Gunner felt lower than an earthworm buried in dirt. Marla was right. He at least owed her the truth but he couldn't bring himself to admit it. He could barely stomach admitting it to himself.
"I thought you were a better man Gunner."
"What do you want me to say?" he asked.
"I don't want you to say anything. I want you to tell the truth – to me and yourself."
"Is this really necessary. For the sake of Grace, let's not do this to each other."
"What? Tell the truth? Be honest with each other? Heaven forbid if we should do that for our daughter. ... Say it Gunner. Say it damn you!"
"Keep your voice down. You're going to wake the baby."
"She sleeps like the dead, just like her daddy," Marla said. "I never even had a chance with you, did I? Our relationship never had a chance."
"I wanted it to work Marla. I really did," Gunner besieged her to understand.
"But you can't forget about your ex-wife can you? You're still in love with her."
"You deserve better," he said.
"Why? Why did you string me along Gunner?"
"I have never done that. You got pregnant and I wasn't about to abandon my child. I told you that."
"I'm supposed to give you some kind of brownie points for telling me that? And let's be clear, I did not get pregnant. We got pregnant; so don't put this all on me."
"I own what I did. I never meant to make it seem like I was blaming you. We got pregnant, and I wanted to do the right thing by my daughter. She doesn't deserve our crap. Look, I tried. I really tried," Gunner said.
"But you just couldn't bring yourself to love me," Marla finished.
"I never meant to hurt you Marla."
"Funny how you didn't think of that while you were cheating on your wife."
"Bria has nothing to do with this," Gunner said.
"She has everything to do with this Gunner. Everything! ... I thought that after your divorce, you'd, that you'd—"
"What? Want to settle down with you? Raise our child together? I told you, I tried. But we both know it's not working out. So why prolong it?"
"You never even tried! Not really," Marla accused.
"I did Marla. I swear I did. Maybe we tried too soon. Maybe if we'd waited until the dust settled on my divorce; until I figured out where my head was."
"Wait," Marla laughed sarcastically. "You love her so much you couldn't hold your misery in for one holiday season; not even long enough to at least play at being a family on your daughter's first Christmas. So waiting would have gotten me exactly nowhere, and you know it. It was never gonna work because you refuse to get over her – a woman who dumped you from practically the moment she found out about me and Grace. She never even looked back. You ever wonder why, Gunner? Why she was so quick to throw you away? Maybe it's because she wanted out of the marriage anyway and you gave her a convenient excuse. Did you ever think about that?"
"As a matter of fact, I have," Gunner said, stunning Marla into silence.
It wasn't exactly a novel thought. He'd wondered a thousand times how Bria could toss their almost twenty years of togetherness out the window so easily. He knew he'd fucked up, but she hadn't given their marriage even a smidge of a chance. She'd served him with divorce papers almost immediately – and not even two months later, their divorce had been finalized. He hadn't contested it because he knew that it wouldn't have changed a thing. The law was her world; he didn’t stand a chance against her. Also, it would have cost him a pretty penny to boot.
However, the main reason he hadn't contested the divorce – in spite of wanting to with everything in him – is that once Bria made up her mind about something, there was no changing it. He'd always admired that about her. Except, in this instance, he'd been on the wrong side of that stubbornness.
Almost a year later, he was still in shock at the swiftness with which Bria had ended their marriage. So yeah, thinking that she'd wanted out of their relationship long ago wasn't exactly a novel thought.
"That doesn't change anything between us Marla. We're going to be in each other's lives forever because of Grace. She should be our only concern right now."
"You're a cold son-of-a-bitch Gunner Michaels. I thought you were different, but you're not. You're just a little bit better of a sweet talker and you wear the responsibility hat a little tighter. But you're no different. You're a liar, a cheat and a coward."
Gunner grabbed his keys from the hook near the entry way.
"If you walk out that door, don't you dare come back," Marla threatened.
"I know you're hurt Marla, and I'm sorry about that. You'll never know how sorry I am. But, I will be back to see my daughter."
"We'll see about that," Marla said defiantly.
"Please don't make Grace a pawn in this. This situation is hard enough. Don't make it any more difficult than it needs to be."
"More difficult for who Gunner?" Marla asked.
At his cold glare, she left him standing in the hallway to go check on their daughter.
Gunner closed the door silently behind him, his hands shaking at the prospect of having to go to war with the mother of his child.
Chapter 11
"WHAT? NO VALET?" BRIA teased as Carrington led her to SLAW's parking garage.
"And let them dent up my baby? No thanks," he scoffed.
Bria rolled her eyes in a ‘good grief' manner. That was such a man's response.
The wind blasted them right before they got to his car. Bria g
asped at the severity of the cold. And it was still two days until the official start of winter, she thought.
"Here she is," Carrington said proudly, his face lit up like the proverbial Christmas tree.
Bria stared at the expensive-looking sports car blankly. He seemed to be expecting some kind of reaction from her.
"Wow," she said, hoping the reaction passed muster.
Carrington pulled the door open. It sealed off the cold when he closed it behind her.
Bria held her hands in a praying motion, rubbing them together for warmth. Seconds later, Carrington was beside her and putting the car in drive.
"Not a car person, huh?" he chuckled.
"Sorry," Bria apologized, realizing her reaction hadn't fooled him. "It's a very nice car though," she said, turning to smile at him.
"You're killing me woman. Calling a Bugatti nice is like putting ketchup on filet mignon."
"But what if you like ketchup on filet mignon?" Bria teased.
"Some things are deal breakers. And that is definitely a deal breaker," Carrington said in mock anger.
"Well I guess you'll just have to take me home. Such a shame. I was looking forward to the rest of the evening."
"And that's why there are exceptions to every rule," Carrington remarked as he steered the powerful car through the streets of New York City.
"I wouldn't dream of asking you to break any rules for me, Mr. Shelby. I mean, what kind of attorney would I be if I encouraged someone to go against their own personal code of ethics," she managed to get out with a straight face.
The silent sports car crawled to a stop at a red light. The glow from the streetlights cast a dim light in the interior. Carrington turned to her. “Helen of Troy," he said, as he stared at her.
"Excuse me," Bria said, confused.
"There are women who will make a man forget every scruple he ever had. Helen of Troy's lover launched a fleet of a thousand ships to reclaim her. I'm not so sure a man wouldn't do the same for you."
Bria's breath caught in her throat. Even if it was a line, it was so damn original, she didn't care.
The light changed.
"Tell me about yourself," Carrington implored as he drove.
Love after Betrayal: An Interracial, Billionaire Romance Page 6