BWWM: OFF LIMITS: An Interracial Alpha Billionaire Romance (Urban African American Contemporary Series)

by Scribble XO Books

  “I meant what I said earlier. I'm not going to hurt you, Gemma baby. Now, come on. What is it that you love to do?”

  Gemma told him all about how she'd once had a jewelry shop and how she loved finding something new and shiny to display. She told him about how creating a piece that peopleoohedandahhedover was her favorite thing. And, after several glasses of wine, she told him about her struggle with the city to keep her city block, how she’d eventually been the last woman standing and theystilltook everything from her. She’d lost her business but she’d never lost her lust for pretty things.

  “I know what you mean. I like pretty things too.” Cillian’s small smile didn’t hide the mischief in his eyes. Gemma laughed nervously and took another sip.

  “Go on.” It wasn’t a request.

  Gemma spoke on as Cillian listened to her for what seemed like hours, nodding all the while, and neatly side-stepping any questions she asked him about himself. Gemma wasn't sure when she actually started feeling sleepy, but they had been lounging on his plush couch for quite a while. Before she knew it, the wine was making her head go fuzzy and she was lolling to sleep, curled up against the arm of the couch.

  In her haze, Gemma was aware that she was being lifted by a pair of strong arms and held against a warm chest. Gemma buried her face against the warmth, inhaling a pleasant, masculine scent and made a little'mmm' noise without really meaning to. Then she was laid gently to bed, the covers were pulled over her, and she could feel a soft, warm kiss pressed to her forehead.

  The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was a faint sense of regret as both the kiss and the scent wafted away.

  ***

  Gemma rolled over in a bed that didn't belong to her and opened her bleary eyes to look at an alarm clock on a nightstand that also did not belong to her. Sitting upright in bed, Gemma groaned, and then she remembered why exactly she was here.

  She was still dressed in her top and jeans, but she didn't remember ever taking off her shoes. Looking again to the nightstand, she found a note written in neat handwriting.Meet me at 6. Evening wear.Gemma turned the note over, secretly hoping that there would be more. Of course, there was not, but the note smelled like him. She wondered if perhaps he had only just left.

  Her phone on the nightstand was blinking. Picking it up, Gemma saw she had several unanswered texts from Rainna, all of them anxious and unhappy.

  Hey. How is it?

  Hey!! What's going on?

  Are you still sleeping?

  Gem, answer!

  Gem. Call me!!

  Calling Rainna did not seem to ease her mind at all. Gemma spent three quarters of an hour convincing her that nothing terrible had happened.

  “It's like I'm taking a weird vacation. I promise, everything is fine.”

  “Okay, but be careful! We don't know anything about this guy,” she said for what felt like the hundredth time.

  “Yeah, well, we have his address if anything goes wrong.”

  “Okay. Fine. But then he's gonna tell the cops what you did!”

  “Let him! I'm pretty sure kidnapping is more serious than petty theft.”

  “Grand theft, Gem! That necklace is worth a fortune. And then they'll search the apartment and find everything else.” Rainna's voice was shaking.

  “Rain,” Gemma said gently, “Just calm down. No one is going to jail or getting murdered or anything. I'll call you every day so you know I'm alive.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise. Now go have some breakfast or something.”

  Gemma's own stomach was grumbling again. Drinking too much always made her incredibly hungry the next morning. Corralling her hair into something manageable, she put on some clean clothes and shuffled out toward the kitchen in search of food.

  Cillian's suite was enormous. Gemma had a hard time believing that such a huge space actually existed in New York. It gave her the feeling that she was living outside of the world somehow. She had been transported out of her life and nothing here was real. However, she still wasn't very inclined to touch anything. Everything from the stylish furniture to the paintings hung on the wall to the shelves packed with books and CD's looked expensive and fragile. She even avoided the potted plants in their huge, fancy vases that stood here and there for fear that she'd breathe on one and it would die.

  Tiptoeing carefully, Gemma emerged into the cavernous living room. The early morning sunlight was pouring in from the giant floor-to-ceiling windows, giving everything a crisp, fresh feel. Looking out over the city, Gemma wondered at how quiet it was all the way up here.

  “Oh, you're awake, dove!”

  Gemma turned around so fast that her neck made a littlepop! An older woman was poking her head out of the kitchen, beaming at her.

  “Cillian said to be expecting you, though he wasn't sure when you would wake. Come, dove, let me make you something to eat. You like eggs and bacon, I hope?”

  “Um—yeah, good morning, of course,” Gemma stammered when she'd found her voice. She didn't know anyone else lived here.

  She sat herself at the breakfast bar and peered over the counter at the woman. She was on the short side, and rather round, but moved with the enthusiasm of a much younger woman. Wisps of her graying hair had escaped the bun atop her head, giving the impression that she was constantly caught in a high wind.

  “I didn't mean to bother you,” Gemma said. “I didn't realize anyone else lived here.”

  The woman looked up from the pan where she was scrambling eggs and laughed.

  “Oh no, dove, I don't livehere.I live in the building, sure, but not up here. Cillian lives here alone, I just take care of the place.” She laid a few strips of bacon in another pan. “I'm Mrs. Mills, by the by.”

  “I'm Gemma. I'm... a uh friend of Cillian's,” Gemma said awkwardly. She thought she saw a little twinkle in Mrs. Mills' eyes when she looked up.

  “Pleasure to meet you, dear. Cillian did say you would be staying here a while.” Mrs. Mills laid out a plate piled with fluffy scrambled eggs, several strips of crispy bacon, toast, butter, jelly, and a glass of orange juice. Gemma's stomach grumbled and she realized she hadn't had such a hearty breakfast in a long time.

  Gemma speared a bit of egg on the end of her fork.

  “So... what else has he said about me?”

  Mrs. Mills smiled, but only said, “Oh, Cillian is a private man. Far be it from me to talk behind his back. Anyway, dear, I need to tend to the rest of the house. You enjoy your breakfast and I'll be back around to clean up in a bit.” And then the tiny woman bustled out of the room, disappearing down the hallway Gemma had come from.

  Gemma scarfed down her breakfast, taking mental note of the way Mrs. Mills hurried from the room when she'd tried to ask about Cillian. She was actually quite relieved that the woman hadn't made any comments about her being here. By the look on her face, Gemma guessed that she suspected something, but it was hard to tell just what. Likely, she just thought her and Cillian were lovers.

  Butterflies stirred deep in Gemma's chest. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about that. Cillian was handsome, sure, but the circumstances were strange. How much had he told her? Before Gemma could think about that too much, she hopped off the stool and began to wander around the house.

  At one end of the living room, there was a massive flat screen. A low coffee table of sleek polished wood was situated in front of it, flanked by a circle of black leather furniture. At the other end was a collection of bookshelves crammed with books, CD's, and even a collection of vinyl records. Gemma idly browsed through the records and picked one at random. Looking around, she found a vintage-looking record player. She'd owned one of these herself at one point, but pawned it off along with all of her records several months ago.

  Gemma placed the needle gently on the vinyl and the first strains of something jazzy filled the room. Feeling a bit more at home, Gemma returned to the shelf and picked up a book at random.The Captain's Verses. It was a book of love poems, she
found as she settled into an armchair and began to read.

  “To bread I do not ask to teach me

  but only not to lack during every day of life.

  I don't know anything about light, from where

  it comes nor where it goes,

  I only want the light to light up,

  I do not ask to the night

  explanations,

  I wait for it and it envelops me,

  And so you, bread and light

  And shadow are.”

  Gemma stayed there for a long time, entranced, only getting up to get a new book or change the record. She didn't realize she was squinting against the fading light until Mrs. Mills appeared in the room again.

  “He's got a lovely collection, doesn't he?”

  Gemma jumped and felt suddenly guilty. The sun was beginning to sink, casting long shadows through the room. Mrs. Mills was standing there, a smile on her face. She had evidently been in and out again, because the dishes in the kitchen had been cleared.

  “Well come on, dear, you've got to get ready! Cillian said he was meeting you at six, yes?”

  “Oh, right!” Gemma jumped up, replacing the book and the record upon the shelf.

  Mrs. Mills shuffles her off to her bedroom where a dress of scarlet silk waits for her, laid out on the bed.

  “Now there's a pretty thing. Cillian had it custom made. Go on then, try it on.” Mrs. Mills had picked up the dress and was already trying to get Gemma out of her t-shirt. Blushing bright pink, Gemma extricated herself and dashed into the bathroom to change. She wasn't keen on being undressed by a woman she hardly knew, nor on letting that woman see that she hadn't worn any underthings.

  Looking at the dress, however, she didn't think there was room for any underwear at all. It was strapless and skin-tight with a dangerously deep plunge in the front and a daring slit up the side. When she slipped it on, Gemma battled with putting the top up far enough to cover the girls, and the bottom down far enough that her ass didn't hang out.

  Mrs. Mills called out encouragement from the bedroom, asking every so often how it looked.

  It looked... dangerous. Gemma stepped out of the bathroom feeling incredibly self-conscious. Mrs. Mills pursed her lips, took a long look at her and then spun her around to face the mirror. She tutted over Gemma, tugging here, adjusting there. She opened the massive walk-in closet and picked out a pair of stilettos heels, thrusting them at Gemma, beaming. When she was done, Gemma felt remarkably less naked. Everything about the dress still terrified her, but she was somehow more confident that everything was where it was supposed to be.

  After a bit more fussing and make-up and doing and redoing her hair, Mrs. Mills looked at the clock on the wall and tutted some more.

  “Come on, dove. Let's not keep the man waiting.”

  She was incredibly strong for such a small woman, and she swept Gemma out of the room.

  ***

  Cillian looked up from the bar where he was sipping a glass of amber liquid and smiled, the warmth sparkling in his eyes. He was wearing a custom suit of charcoal gray that showcased the hard lines of his masculine frame. A red handkerchief was tucked into his front pocket. It matched Gemma's dress exactly and burned against the gray of his suit.

  He took Gemma's hand and spun her around slowly, taking her in from top to bottom. The heat of his hand made Gemma’s nipples peak and she instinctively blushed as she met his intense gaze.

  “You must be the most beautiful woman in all of New York tonight,” Cillian said, his eyes hooded with desire.

  The butterflies erupted in Gemma's chest again and she felt her face grow warm.

  “Thank you. You don't look half bad yourself,” she said, not quite meeting his blue gaze.

  Cillian drew her in. His body was warm. His cologne filled her head as he leaned in and gently placed a kiss at the corner of her mouth. Gemma was sure that the pointed heels she was wearing were going to fail under her trembling legs.

  Before she could swoon, however, Cillian had taken her arm in his and was leading her to the door. On the long way down the private elevator, it occurred to Gemma to ask where they were going.

  “It's a surprise, Gemma baby.” Cillian gave her a side-ways smirk and said no more of it, no matter how much she begged.

  When the elevator doors slid open, a massive man stood waiting for them. He was a head taller than Cillian and significantly wider. He wore a simple black suit and tie clearly tailor made for his form. His eyes were steely gray, set into a face full of hard lines from his permanently furrowed brow to the set of his jaw. The man tugged at the cuffs of his suit, but said nothing as they stepped out of the elevator.

  “Good evening, Perris,” Cillian said smoothly.

  The man remained silent, but looked around, scanning the foyer for something unseen. His silence didn't seem to bother Cillian at all. When the man fell into step behind them just a few paces back and to the left, Cillian continued like it was the most normal thing in the world. Perris moved with the grace of a man much smaller than himself, his steps smooth and noiseless.

  “Your bodyguard?” Gemma kept her voice as quiet as she could, but the got the impression that Perris could still hear her anyway.

  Cillian nodded affirmatively.

  “Perris is my shadow,” he said with a grin. “He goes where I go.”

  Indeed when the sleek black town car pulled up to meet them, Perris opened the door for them to climb in, and then seated himself in the front passenger seat.

  “Perris. A little privacy?”

  The clean-cut head in front of Gemma turned just so.

  “I promise, she's not going to try and assassinate me.”

  Perris nodded and the partition was raised.

  “He's so... serious,” Gemma said when she felt like they were as alone as they were going to get.

  “He had better be. I pay him enough,” Cillian said lightly. “He's the best at what he does, and he's better company than he seems.”

  Gemma couldn't tell if Cillian was being serious or not. She couldn't see how a man who didn't speak could be any company at all.

  The back seat was ample enough, but Gemma found herself pressed ever so gently against Cillian. The place where his thigh grazed hers was unusually warm. When she sidled surreptitiously away, he seemed to follow. It was just as well. She liked the heat of him, and the way his hand had found a resting spot on her knee.

  “So, you still haven't said where we're going.” Gemma tried to keep her voice casual, but Cillian didn't seem to be falling for it.

  “It's still a surprise.”

  “Alright.” Gemma paused to think. “Well, then can you tell me what we're doing?”

  At this Cillian raised an eyebrow.

  “Didn't you just ask me that?”

  “No, I askedwhere are we going.Now I'm asking what are we doing. I mean... you and me. What exactly is happeninghere?”

  Cillian’s eyes smiled as he watched her lips. “You're quite inquisitive today. Mrs. Mills told me you've been poking around the house all day, as well as asking questions.”

  Gemma blushed a bit, but didn't deny it.

  ***

  The car glided smoothly through the city, seeming to find a way even where the traffic was thick. Finally, they pulled in front of a large building of white stone with a gorgeous fountain out front. Lights shone from beneath the water, giving it a golden glow. Gemma's heart fluttered.

  The Metropolitan Ballet was well known for having only the most skilled and talented dancers. No one who was lucky enough to attend a performance was ever disappointed. Gemma could hardly believe that they were actually going to see the ballet. She was certain that the car would pull away and she would be let down.

  When Perris stepped out and opened the door for her, Gemma stepped out feeling as though she was dreaming. She beamed broadly at Cillian and saw the corners of his mouth turn up. Something like happiness shone in his eyes for a brief moment before he took her arm again an
d led her up the stone steps.

  Gemma looked around as they crossed the lobby and noticed that many people were staring at her. Everyone was dressed in fine suits or dresses, their hands and throats glittering with wildly expensive jewelry. A flash of greed washed over Gemma, but she pushed it away, instead puzzling over why so many people were looking at her.

  She looked down at herself and remembered just what she was wearing. Suddenly self-conscious, she tried to tug at her dress without drawing too much attention. She had faith that Mrs. Mills had secured everything into place, but Gemma felt naked anyway.

  Gemma could sense Cillian’s gaze and when she glanced but he looped an arm around her waist, his fingers splayed across her curve. A flood of desire swept over her as she felt a pool of warm between her legs. His eyes flashed with an intensity Gemma had never seen before.

  “None of them can believe how lovely you look,” he said proudly, tightening his hold of her against him.

  ***

  Cillian led her up to a private box, just above the stage. There a handful of other seats in the box, but Perris stationed himself just outside and Gemma knew that no one else would be joining them.

  Music filled the dance hall, and Gemma peered over the balcony to see the dancers striding gracefully on stage like a troop of perfect little dolls. She was so excited by the show that she hardly noticed Cillian put his arm around her lower back, his fingers resting again at her hip.

  His thumb stroked her idly and he leaned in to whisper into her ear.

  “Do you like this Gemma baby?”

  “It'samazing,” she breathed. “Do you come often?”

  “From time to time,” he said. When he spoke again, his lips brushed over her ear and the register of his voice had dropped to a low, husky tone full of intent. “But the view is much improved tonight.”

  Gemma turned to meet his gaze. His blue eyes were dark and the color of them seemed to expand to fill her mind until she could think of nothing else. Later, she would swear it was some kind of magic. She was aware that his hand had moved up to her side, his thumb stroking back and forth very close to the swell of her breast. Gemma lowered her eyes, only to have her gaze stop at his lips. She leaned in, but Cillian put a finger on her chin and turned her gently toward the ballet again.