Love after Betrayal: An Interracial, Billionaire Romance

by Black, Yuwanda

  "And you don't want any more children? A son perhaps to carry on your name?"

  He laughed out loud. "I have no fear of the Shelby name dying out."

  "I suppose you're right," Bria said. "SLAW will be around for the next 500 years I'm sure."

  "Because of my father, I hope so. Building the firm was his life's work. But my daughter is perfectly equipped to carry on the name if that is her wish. At any rate, once I'm done with this earthly journey, what happens to something as simple as a name doesn't concern me."

  "Legacy Carrington. That doesn't matter to you?"

  "The Shelby legacy is in good stead. And no, it does not concern me. What concerns me is the here and now. And right now, I'm with a very beautiful woman ... which reminds me, I have something for you." He pulled a flat velvet box from an inside pocket of his jacket.

  "What is this?" Bria asked, looking at the box in stupefied surprise.

  "I think that's why you have to open the box," he teased.

  Bria gasped as she pulled out a gold bracelet. It was a double chain of tiny, interlinking hearts. "It's beautiful," she whispered in awe. "But I ... why? You don't have to give me gifts, Carrington."

  "I know. But I saw it in a jeweler's window and thought of you. I thought you should have it."

  "Really?"

  "Really. Are you not accustomed to receiving gifts?"

  "Yes, but not from a man. I mean ... from my husband, not from a ... ah ... from a... well from someone like you."

  "And what am I to you Bria?"

  "We're friends," Bria offered, although she'd crossed that line with him a couple of weeks ago. He meant so much more to her than that.

  And it terrified her.

  Chapter 21

  "ONE MONTH INTO DATING the super-hot billionaire, so what's the verdict?"

  "I like him Maya, and that's all I'm willing to say," Bria said in answer to her friend's question. She folded her legs under her on her living room couch. She had been looking forward to catching up with Maya over Sunday brunch all week.

  "Well I could have told you that, as I've barely seen you since you started seeing him. You've barely come up for air. A billionaire. Did you know he’s worth like $2.9 billion?"

  "No,” Bria said. “I mean, of course, I know he’s wealthy, but that wealthy. Really?” Bria said.

  “Yeah, that wealthy,” Maya whistled.

  “And it’s not true that you’ve barely seen me,” Bria countered. “I’ve been around.”

  "Is too and no you haven’t," Maya insisted. "But I ain't mad – well, not that mad. You deserve this. I haven't seen you looking so content in a long time."

  "I guess it has been a while, but I didn't invite you over here to get all up in my business. I invited you because I missed your crazy behind," Bria said, as Maya took in another mouthful of her homemade carrot soup.

  "Mmmmmmmm girl, you slay this soup! If I liked to cook, I'd ask for the recipe."

  "Glad you don't, cuz it's a family secret. Couldn't part with it anyway," Bria laughed.

  "Ouch. That hurt," Maya said. "It's not like you're popping out heirs to pass it along to. I would think you'd want the recipe to survive."

  "My turn to say ‘ouch that hurt,'" Bria said.

  "I'm sorry. You know my mouth works faster than my brain. I'm really sorry Bria," Maya said, wiping a dribble of soup off her chin in her effort to apologize quickly.

  "Got'cha!" Bria laughed.

  Maya squinted her eyes. "If I didn't think you'd throw me out before I had more of this soup, I'd really let you have it Bria Michaels. That was a cruel thing to do."

  "Yes, it was," Bria agreed. "And I couldn't help myself," she giggled, leaning back into the cushions of her couch.

  "One of these days," Maya said, wagging one finger at Bria.

  "I love you too," Bria said, a giggle still in her throat and a smile in her eyes.

  "Speaking of love and lovers, tell me one thing you don't like about this Carrington fella," Maya said, sitting an almost empty soup bowl on the coffee table in front of them. She picked up her glass of rosé.

  "Why would you ask me a thing like that?" Bria squirmed, palming the bulb of her mimosa glass in her hand.

  "Because in the beginning of a relationship, we tend to get hung up on all the stuff we like about a person. I wanted you to get out there and start dating again, but I don't want you to do it blindly. So what's one thing you don't like about him? There must be something by now," Maya insisted.

  "Well since you asked – and don't take this the wrong way because it's the last thing I'm thinking about – it's that he doesn't want to get married or have any more children. It's a turn-off to be with someone who seems to want to be a perpetual playboy – especially at his age."

  "How old is he again?" Maya asked.

  "Forty-two," Bria said.

  "Hmm, prime marrying and reproducing age. But hey, if I had his looks and money and could have anyone I want, I might feel the same way. Why settle down if you don't have to?"

  "He said practically the same thing."

  "Well, there you go," Maya said. "Good thing you only want him for one thing," she teased.

  "That's not exactly true," Bria said, hating to admit just how untrue that statement was.

  "It had better be true!" Maya insisted. "Don't you dare go getting hung up on him Bria, especially as he's been straight with you about what he wants. Do you hear me?"

  "No need to go all mama-ish on me. I hear you. I'm not a child, you know?"

  "I know," Maya said, softening. "But you love with the innocence and devotion of a child. I just don't want to see you get hurt again. Not after what you've been through. He was supposed to be a fling; nothing more. Don't go forgetting that."

  "I won't," Bria said. "I promise." A promise she swore to remind herself to keep.

  "So when are you seeing him again?" Maya asked.

  "Tonight," Bria said.

  "Pull out the crotch-less panties!" Maya whooped.

  "God I never should have told you about that!" Bria squirmed in embarrassment.

  "I'LL SEE YOUR CRAZY behind soon," Bria said, hugging Maya at her door as their brunch came to an end.

  "Til next time," Maya said. "And in the meantime, keep your pants down and your dresses up."

  "You mean dress down and pants up," Bria corrected, repeating a time-old piece of advice most young girls in the black community got at some point in life.

  "No, I meant exactly what I said: keep those pants down and your dresses up," Maya said. "You got crotch-less draws – no use letting them go to waste."

  "You are impossible!" Bria said, closing the door on her laughing friend.

  "But you love me!" Maya shouted from the other side of the door.

  Bria laughed as she walked back to her living room. Her mind returned a reality she hadn't been able to get out of her head as she looked forward to yet another evening with Carrington. His only child was an adult. He'd made clear that more children were not on the agenda for him, and that he didn't even think about the possibility of marriage. He was able to travel at will and spend time with whomever caught his attention – all with no commitment.

  As Maya had said, who could blame him? She couldn't. But she also couldn't shake the fact that she wanted more. Even though they'd only been seeing each other for a month, this was a growing fact that she couldn't deny – which meant she had to make some decisions about their relationship.

  And soon, before her feelings got any deeper.

  Chapter 22

  LATER THAT EVENING

  "Will there be anything else sir?" the server asked as he removed the last chunk of the uneaten triple-Cheese cheesecake with Amaretti crust they they'd shared.

  "Bria?" Carrington said, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

  "I couldn't fit anything else in this dress if I wanted to," Bria said, wiping her mouth. "My compliments to the pâtissier. That cheesecake was downright sinful," she said to the server.

>   "Glad you enjoyed miss," he smiled, and silently disappeared as quickly and efficiently as he'd first appeared.

  Carrington picked up his snifter of oak-charred apple brandy and swirled the glass around.

  "What's that look for?" Bria asked, as he leaned back in his chair. It had been another wonderful evening: the theater, then dinner and an exclusive restaurant she'd never known existed, and she knew her way around the city. Hidden in the theater district, they had entered through a smelly, grimy back alley where TV shows like Law & Order showed beaten and battered bodies. She'd looked at him strangely as he suddenly turned into the alley a few blocks after they left the theater.

  "Where are you going?" she'd asked as she pulled back, refusing to enter the alleyway.

  "Don't you trust me?" Carrington had asked.

  Bria had been unsure whether to laugh back, or continue to refuse to budge. She stuck with the latter. "I thought I did, but I'm not so sure," she said peering into the darkness of the alley. Why would he trying to get her to go there?

  "I would never let harm come to you Bria. You must know that by now," he said.

  "I know that – at least I think I do."

  "Then follow me," he said, squeezing her hand tighter. I promise you, it's worth it."

  Bria looked down at her three-inch high, black suede heels with the delicate ankle strap. "If one of these big-ass New York City rats run across my shoes, I'm holding you personally responsible," she said, pointing a French-manicured nail at him.

  "If a rodent comes anywhere near you, I promise to slay it, personally carry you to our destination, and buy you a closet full of whatever kind of shoes you want."

  "In that case," Bria smiled, "lead the way Mr. Shelby. ... Oh god what have I gotten myself into," she huffed loud enough for him to hear.

  Carrington chuckled. "Something you won't regret, I promise," he said, holding her hand tightly as they traversed the barely-lit alley.

  And he couldn't have been more right. Down this god-forsaken side alley of squalor, a huge steel door opened when Carrington knocked on it and gave his name. They were ushered into another world – something right out of the luxury of a Paris from yesteryear. Huge chandeliers hung from the bronze-coffered ceilings. Suedes and silks lined the walls. Tables were laid with tea lights and rosebud lanterns emitting just enough of a glow to barely highlight their faces and it gave the room a romantically charged intimacy. After the icy blast of cold, and the grit and grime of the city, it was like going from a homeless shelter to a ninety-room mansion.

  And that was the magic of New York, there was always something new to discover; usually in the most unexpected places.

  "How did you find this place?" Bria asked as warmth infused her body.

  "I've known about it as long as I can remember. Maybe father told me."

  "What's it called?"

  "It doesn't have a name."

  "Every restaurant has a name."

  "Not this one. You either know about it, or you don't."

  Bria looked around, her eyes having adjusted to the semi-darkness. There was an undercurrent of extreme wealth that oozed from every patron.

  "I see," she said.

  "You see what?" Carrington asked.

  "I see that it obviously caters to an ultra-exclusive clientele. There's a world the ultra-rich inhabit that the rest of us mere mortals will never be able to pierce."

  "I've never thought about it," Carrington said.

  "Of course you haven't because it's been your existence for your entire life. I worked my way up the ladder, so to speak. But the higher I get, the more I realize there's always a higher rung."

  "Does that anger you?" Carrington asked.

  "No. I'm happy where I am. It's just ... being exposed to something like this; it makes you realize that there are some things in life that may always be out of reach."

  "Why do I have the feeling that we're no longer talking about material success?" Carrington said.

  "You're very perceptive."

  "If memory serves me correctly, the last time we were together, we talked about me. Now it's your turn. At your age, I'd think you'd be married, and living in the suburbs shuffling a couple of kids to and from school and soccer practice. Or, does the traditional path not interest you?" he teased.

  "And just how do you know how old I am? I've never told you," Bria stated, an arched brow daring him to guess.

  "I do own the firm you work for, Ms. Michaels. I checked your employee file, of course."

  "Really? You're a little bit of a stalker, Mr. Shelby," she joked.

  He laughed.

  Her eyes softened and for a second, everything she was growing to feel for him shone there so clearly. She was glad for the low lighting in the restaurant.

  "Not a stalker," he denied. "I just make it my business to learn about what interests me. And to be crystal clear Bria Michaels, you interest me a great deal."

  Bria blushed as his gaze darkened and flamed into her. To put the blushing teenager back in her box, she said, "Of course, you know I was married and how that worked out."

  "But no children? You were married a long time. Infertility issues?"

  "No, nothing like that," Bria said slowly.

  He held her gaze, but remained quiet waiting for her to speak.

  "Since you gave me your life synopsis, here's mine: as you know, I was married for twelve years. But we were together for almost twenty. We divorced almost a year ago."

  "We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to," he said, noting her struggle to get out the words. He squeezed her hand across the table.

  "I'm okay," Bria said, looking at him. In fact, this ultra-relaxed environment was perfect for baring a piece of her soul. Good food. Good wine. Great company. Yeah, now was good.

  "WOW, THAT'S QUITE A story. Thank you for trusting me enough to share it," Carrington said, after Bria detailed the reason for her break-up and eventual divorce from Gunner.

  "Trust. Now there's a word," Bria smiled.

  "Do you trust me Bria?"

  "We've barely known each other a month. I don't know you well enough to trust you, or not trust you."

  "Do you trust me?" she asked, turning the tables.

  "Yes."

  "How can you say that?" Bria asked, surprised.

  "Simple. I trust you because I have no reason to distrust you."

  "That is not the lawyerly way," Bria smiled.

  "Then it's a good thing I'm not a practicing attorney, isn't it?" he said facetiously.

  "I should learn not to verbally spar with you. I always come out on the losing end," Bria noted.

  Carrington smiled. "So what now?"

  "Life marches on, no?"

  "That's been my experience," he said with that knee-buckling, panty-wetting smile on full display.

  ANOTHER PERFECT EVENING, Bria thought, as her eyes opened to the darkness of Carrington's bedroom. It was the way they'd come to end almost every date – at his place, in this room, under this spell of bliss.

  As she embraced the silence of the night, Bria couldn't help but marvel at how much she adored every second she spent with Carrington. She had tried to keep her feelings casual for him, but soon realized that it was as impossible as walking a straight line in quicksand.

  Everything about him made her want him. After the first week – when they'd seen each other every day because he was leaving for DC the next week – she knew it was more than a fling for her.

  As she lay next to him, still replete from her latest orgasm, fear and oncoming pain poked through her euphoria, temporarily ruining the unadulterated joy she found in his arms.

  She looked up at Carrington, sleeping peacefully with her in the crook of his arm. She loved that he always reached for her, even when he was sleeping. She didn't know if he did it consciously or unconsciously. All she knew is that she always woke up literally in his arms. She studied his uniquely handsome face in slumber. His eyelashes were so long, they damn near fanned t
he very tops of his cheekbones. His full, almost girlishly pink lips, were slightly parted.

  One of his arms, tight and defined with lean muscle, draped across his even more defined chest and abs.

  Bria snuggled closer into her nook at his side and continued her unabashed observation of him. He was so beautiful, it was almost painful. Her stomach clenched in renewed desire. It was crazy the way she craved him. Maybe she was just crazy. There was no other word for how quickly she'd come to care for him. Here she had the perfect situation: amazing sex; stimulating conversation; a man who cared and did something about the inequalities in the world – and she had to go and ruin it with the ‘F' word.

  Feelings.

  Carrington moaned sleepily and turned so that he could wrap her tighter in his embrace. The simple motion settled her fear, while at the same time underscoring the pain that was sure to come. I'm extremely busy, so I like to keep things simple. No muss no fuss. ... I'm rather comfortable with the life I have.

  Bria closed her eyes and breathed him in, trying to erase the words that had the power to someday break her heart. She knew this as surely as she felt his heart beating against her.

  She didn't know how long whatever they had was going to last; but she knew she'd be a crumbled mess by the end of it. With every touch, every kiss, every smile, every thought-provoking conversation, she was falling in love with Carrington Shelby. And the worst part was, there wasn't a damn thing she could do to stop it.

  Gunner. Her mind raced to him. How could she love another when he was still so much a part of her? Was it possible to love two men at the same time?

  Lord Jesus help her, she sighed.

  Chapter 23

  "I CAN'T BELIEVE VALENTINE's Day is almost here. Are you going to be celebrating it with your new man?" Maya asked as they stepped into the warmth of The Bedford Stuyvesant Museum of African Art in Brooklyn.

  "Hmm," Bria responded.

  "Have y'all made plans?" Maya asked as they stopped in front of a female fertility figure from Mali.