What Happens In Italy..._A BWWM Billionaire Romance
Table of Contents
Chapter1
chapter 8
chapter 12
chapter 13
WHAT HAPPENS IN ITALY...
INTERNATIONAL ALPHAS BOOK 2
KENDRA RILEY
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Summary
Nariah Alexander was a self-proclaimed feminist who would never dream of indulging in a one night stand.
However, a vacation to Italy began to change everything.
Meeting a suave and sophisticated billionaire in an exotic country made Nariah crave to do things that she would never have imagined herself doing.
And so she figured that one night with a handsome man and his washboard abs wouldn't hurt anyone.
After all, what happens in Italy can stay in Italy... right?
This is an exotic interracial billionaire romance with a sexy, steamy vibe that all women will enjoy reading! Download now, you will be surprised at how this ends!
Copyright Notice
What Happens In Italy © 2018, Kendra Riley
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
Contents
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
chapter 8
chapter 9
chapter 10
chapter 11
chapter 12
chapter 13
chapter 14
Chapter1
The echo from the fractured glass caused her to gasp. Dozens of eyes scanned the area, landing on the woman who was clutching roses to her chest.
“I am so sorry.”
As she studied his eyes, a hint of familiarity coated the air.
“Let me help you with that.”
“That’s okay. I got—ouch.” She noticed his gaze remained on her as she sucked the blood from her fingertip.
“Allow me to buy you another dozen, or take you out to dinner.”
“My mother taught me not to take strange men up on random offers.”
He offered her his hand and a quaint smile. “Russell Haines. Nice to meet you.”
She studied his length as she climbed to her feet, taking note of the combination of the greens and browns in his irises. His sharp jaw and square chin fit his face, resembling many of the underwear movie stars she admired. His smile was conservative. She stared at his massive hand, still deciding if he could be trusted. With an eyebrow raised, she placed her hand into his, her fingers barely long enough to wrap around it. “Nariah Alexander.” She was vague when asked the name of the shop from which she purchased the bouquet, her intent not to be malicious; she didn’t know, finding it on the way to the Piazza San Marco. “You know what, don’t worry about it.”
“No can do. I ruined them, so I have to repay you.”
“It’s fine…really. It’s probably a sign that I didn’t need to buy them anyway.”
“How about dinner then, Mrs. Alexander?”
It wasn’t until she felt his soft lips on the back of her hand that she realized he was still holding it. “It’s Ms., and I’m fine, thank you.”
“I love how independent you are as a black woman.”
Thorns ate into her skin as her grip tightened around the stems. The calluses that resulted from her guitar playing habit numbed the pain. Anger warmed the depths of her stomach before spreading to her limbs, light perspiration covering her upper lip. “Excuse me?”
“I said I love how independent you are.”
“As a black woman,” she finished for him.
He chuckled as he combed his fingers through his dark brown curls. “You know what I meant.”
“No, I know what you said.” Her eyes widened and she set the roses on a ledge before she began digging through her purse.
“There’s no need for violence. I’m sorry,” he said, showing her his palms.
She scoffed after flashing him her phone. Incoherent mumbles escaped her lips as her thumbs thumped on the touchscreen. She read the search results under her breath as she scrolled through them. Her face maintained its seriousness as she turned the screen to him, his picture front and center. “I knew I recognized you. It makes sense now.” She read the headline:
Playboy Billionaire Strikes Out On Love Again
Without giving any regard to who was listening, she read the details aloud, citing his most recent failed relationships, most of which hadn’t lasted longer than a couple of months. She also couldn’t help but notice that none of the women he dated were of color.
“You can’t believe everything you read.”
“I’m not and I don’t. I’m trusting my instincts.” She dropped her phone back into her purse and retrieved her roses, dropping them in the trash can. “No thank you to your roses or your dinner. I hope you have an excellent time on the rest of your trip.” With that, she turned her back to him.
Before she could disappear into the sea of people, he grabbed her arm, letting go immediately upon feeling the laser that was her gaze. Once again, he showed her his palms. “Please let me explain over dinner.”
“I can pay for my own dinner, you know, with me being independent and all.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
Her smile trailed off halfway across her lips. She took a few minutes to study his face. The man was handsome, that she couldn’t deny.
If he wasn’t such an asshole, I would have gone out with him.
“I’m sorry Nariah. Please forgive me.”
“Yeah, you are sorry. When I turn around this time, please refrain from touching me. Thank you, Richard.”
“Russell.”
“Oh yeah, Russell, right.” She whipped her hair as she turned around, sashaying her hips with a bit more effort than usual. She counted her steps as she headed in an unknown direction. Upon reaching step twenty, she looked back. Part of her was disappointed in not seeing him, the sensation disappearing within seconds. She pulled out her phone to check the time, a message awaiting on the screen. After replying, she let out an exasperated breath, not looking forward to the blind date her best friend Olivia set up for her.
###
“So Nariah, what are you doing in Venice?”
She took a sip from her drink, allowing the tincture to numb her tongue and throat on the way to her stomach. She hoped her face didn’t show her disinterest, though she was getting tired of hearing it. She decided to give the date another ten minutes before calling it a night. “Vacation. How about you?”
“Business. I’m a wine connoisseur.”<
br />
“That’s interesting. How did you get into that line of work?”
“Honestly, I was going through a rough patch with my wife—”
“You’re married?”
“Legally yes, but my wife and I are separated.” He reached for her hand. “I hope that’s not a problem.”
Nariah snatched her hand away. “It definitely is, I don’t date married men.” She slapped a note on the table before standing. “There should be enough for a tip. Have a nice night.” She ignored her name being called, continuing to zigzag through tables and people until she reached the exit. While searching for her phone, she bumped into a solid object. “Oh, I’m so—”
“Nice to see you again Nariah.” Russell’s brilliant white teeth greeted her. “Small world.”
She huffed past him, pushing her way into the warm night air. She shifted her weight from foot to foot as she waited for the valet to hail a taxi. Her lungs craved the bitter smoke of a cigarette, her brain begging for relief from the anxiety twisting it.
“I can take you to your hotel if you need a ride.”
Despite not turning around, she recognized the scratchy baritone voice behind her. She became even more desperate for a cancer stick.
“It’s fine, I’m not a stranger now.”
“But you’re still a spoiled, arrogant prick,” she spat, turning around.
“I probably deserved that.”
“Yes, you did. And no, I don’t need a ride. I’m getting a taxi.”
“So you’d rather ride in a car with a strange man and spend money you don’t have to than let me take you home?”
“Absolutely.” A second later, a car pulled to the curb, the valet holding the door open for her. She made sure Russell saw the sizable tip she gave him.
Not to be outdone, he casually strolled to the driver’s side. He removed a stack of notes from his pocket and handed them to the friendly man. “Wherever she goes is on me.” He slapped the roof twice and stepped back. Satisfied he won the contest, he winked and blew her a kiss. Laughter shook his chest upon seeing her middle finger jutting into the air.
Olivia was cozied up on the couch with a book in her lap and a glass of wine in her hand. She poured another glass upon hearing the door handle turn.
Nariah kicked her shoes to the side, her heels thumping on the chocolate hardwood floors as she crossed the living room. After flopping into the plush cushions, she tied her hair into a bun and turned her back to her best friend. “Unzip me.”
“That bad huh?”
“How could you tell?”
“You were gone for thirty minutes,” she said, passing her the glass.
She resembled a newborn as she sucked the rim, wine cascading from the corners of her mouth. She wiped the excess with the back of her hand, passing the glass back for a refill.
“Wow, it must have been really bad.”
“It wasn’t just the date, though I’m not letting you set me up with anybody else.”
“Marco is a nice guy.” Olivia laughed.
“Nice and married.” She downed the drink in three gulps, emitting an impressive belch afterward. “I don’t know why I’m even looking for a man out here. We’re leaving in a week.”
“That’s the problem. You shouldn’t be looking for a man. All you need is a—”
“No Olivia. You know that’s not how I roll.”
“You didn’t even let me finish.”
The friends shared drinks and laughter, Nariah dominating the conversation with the details of the failed outing. She imitated the man’s drab monotone voice, comparing it to Ben Stein. She described him as a younger version of Mr. Bean. “I bet his entire house is beige.” She slapped the coughs from Olivia’s chest, who was caught between swallowing and laughing.
“So not nice.”
“Just an observation.” She chuckled. “Oh, that wasn’t even the worse part of the night. Remember that guy I told you about.”
“That guy? You’re talking about billionaire Russell Haines. That’s not just a guy.”
“Does he have a penis?” she asked.
“Duh.”
“Then he’s just a guy.”
“A guy with twelve zeroes in his bank account.”
“Nobody cares about that.”
“Don’t speak for me.”
“Whatever.” She tossed a pillow, which Olivia dodged. “Anyway, he showed up at the restaurant.” Though their first encounter left a sour taste in her mouth, the second one intrigued her. She liked his sureness in himself. He also challenged her, something most men weren’t capable of. She grinned as she pictured his smile. He was nice on the eyes, but he also wore a sense of entitlement most men of his stature donned. That was something she couldn’t overlook. She sipped her now room-temperature drink and shook his image from her thoughts.
“You should have let him take you out, in my opinion.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“Ah, I see you inherited his assholishness.” She dodged the pillow thrown at her.
“I am not an asshole; straightforward maybe, but not an asshole.”
“Exactly what one would say.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“I’ve never denied who I am.” Lively guffaws filled the room.
The women spent the rest of the night talking about their dating prospects and comparing themselves to the younger competition. Despite being a successful personal trainer whose roster included several celebrity clients, Nariah still struggled with her self-esteem. As beautiful as many people told her she was, there were times where she was only able to see herself as an overweight adolescent.
After Olivia had gone to bed, she used the remote to open the nine-foot pale blue drapes, allowing a streak of white moonlight to spread across the floor. Jill Scott softly crooned through the audio system, singing her urge and longing to be loved.
She tiptoed to the kitchen to retrieve another bottle of wine before making her way to the large bay window. The cream-colored cushions willingly accepted her weight, her skin quickly adjusting to the window’s temperature. As she sipped, she counted the number of lit windows, creating scenarios of what was going on inside. She envisioned most of the occupants being newlyweds celebrating their first night together. Though she didn’t believe in marriage, love was beautiful to her.
After multiple attempts, she managed to open the window, inhaling the salt in the air. Appreciation washed over her as she realized where she was. She had come a long way. A smile spread across her lips. She jumped upon hearing a sweeping noise behind her, knocking over her glass.
“It’s just me, scaredy-cat. I had to pee. Good night.”
“Good night…asshole.”
“I heard that.”
She reveled in the delicate breeze for a few more moments before locking the window. She stumbled a bit as she went to return the half-empty wine bottle to the kitchen. One to keep up with current events, she decided to check the news before heading to bed. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Russell Haines’ immaculate features appeared on the screen.
“Nice, you’re a stalker too.” She managed to listen to the entire interview before sleep began tugging on her eyelids. “Good night, Venice. Good night, Mr. Haines. I hope to not run into you tomorrow.”
***
Sweat trickled down the sides of her face, her heart thumping in her ears. Her tongue swept across her lips, savoring the saltiness; Venice was becoming a part of her. Her pace was fast, but not as fast as usual, for she wasn’t familiar with the route. She had already decided she would count it as a fun run.
Total distance, six miles. Total time, 45:28. Mile split, 7:27.
She spotted a bench up ahead that looked to be a good spot to rest and stretch. As she massaged her calves, she waved at her fellow runners and offered an older couple some good places to find breakfast. As she was relacing her shoes, she felt the presence of another next to her.
“This is
getting silly, Ms. Alexander.”
Nariah closed her eyes and took as deep a breath as her wet t-shirt would allow. She rolled up her sleeves, using the bottom to wipe her forehead. “I’m starting to think you’re following me,” she said, turning to face him.
“Or maybe you’re following me.”
“That’s definitely not true.”
“Then how do you explain us ending up in the same place three times?”