What Happens In Italy..._A BWWM Billionaire Romance Page 5
“I don’t want you to get up.” He continued rubbing her legs underneath the jacket, calculated in the timing and placement of the small squeezes he gave them. He turned the volume down on the TV. “Now what about this engaging conversation you were so eager to have?”
She studied him for a moment, quickly becoming entranced by the combination of colors in his eyes. She adjusted herself, sliding her legs away from his crotch. “I want to know more about you. Who is Russell Haines?”
“I’m surprised you haven’t googled me yet,” he teased.
“Oh I have, but it can’t tell me everything I need to know about you.”
“What do you want to know exactly?”
“Everything,” she answered. “Everything you can tell me legally, anyway.”
For the third time since he sat down, he looked around the spacious great room. It would have been the perfect time to tell her about his predicament, but he decided against it. He liked her too much. That should have been a factor in lying to her, but he wasn’t willing to risk her pushing him away. He needed to leave enough of an impression to keep himself fresh in her mind after they returned home.
I’ll tell her as soon as I’m sure she likes me as much as I like her.
When she excused herself to the restroom, he turned his phone off, the messages on the screen doing nothing to halt the action.
A couple of minutes later, her legs were back in his lap. Comfortable, she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, massaging each one. She played with his hair after he dropped his head back, a small gap separating his lips.
His eyes opened lazily after she stopped. “That was great.”
“You were tight; life of a billionaire businessman I presume.”
“Yeah,” he adjusted himself, getting closer to her, “it’s not easy. Money’s good, but the stress is something I’ll never get used to.”
“Why not retire?” she asked. “You have more than enough money to last the rest of your life.”
Russell rubbed her legs as he pondered his answer. He had been asking himself the same question for a while, the last three years in fact. He was in the process of signing his walking papers when the darkness in his past resurfaced. He knew the day was coming in which he would have to pay for his mistakes, he was just waiting for the amount. Once that was taken care of, he would ride into the sunset. That was the plan at least.
Nariah tapped his forehead three times, the fog clearing from his eyes. “Come back to me, Mr. Haines.”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“No need to apologize. I understand. I tend to keep my future plans secret too.”
He used her legs to pull her closer and cupped her face. “I’m not keeping any secrets from you. I never will.” His intensity lessened as she placed her hand on top of his. “I…care about you, Nariah.”
“That’s sweet, especially since you’ve only known me,” she counted on her fingers, “for three days.”
“That doesn’t matter, if you have a connection with someone time means nothing.”
“I agree.” She noticed his mug was near empty and left to give it a refill. Upon returning, she sat right next to him, pulling his arm around her shoulders, snuggling closer. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the intimacy of being so close to another person. She also hadn’t realized how much she missed being with a man. She laughed to herself as she heard Olivia in her ear. It had been a while. Almost too long. She snuggled closer to him.
“Finally warming up to me?” he teased.
“I’m cold,” she fired back.
His hold on her loosened. A gust of air slipped between the gap between them that resulted from him distancing himself.
“Yes, alright. Come back, I really am cold.”
He rubbed her arm, while feeling her breath. They sat that way for some time, listening to each other’s breaths, reveling in each other’s presence, savoring their connection. Every so often, he adjusted his position to make sure she wasn’t falling asleep. He rested his cheek on the top of her head, reaching out to touch her curls, but thinking better of it.
“It’s okay.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
He twirled one around his finger, fascinated with its spring. After placing it behind her ear, he proceeded to massage her scalp. His strong fingers elicited a soft moan and neck roll. “Guess you’ve been stressed too.”
“More than I care to admit.”
He moved away from her, forcing her to sit up. “Tell me about it.”
“You don’t wanna hear about normal people problems,” she scoffed.
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
She looked at him with that raised eyebrow, studying his face for his intentions. She moved away from him, her eyes on the floor. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Don’t do that.” He was louder than he intended. He released her wrist upon realizing he was holding it. “I apologize, but don’t shut me out.”
Her demeanor developed a chill that threatened to burn his fingers if he tried to touch her. Her defensiveness was more due to her past and what she had experienced, than him wanting to know her. The state of the black community didn’t help and she was sure he wouldn’t be able to relate.
“Talk to me, Nariah.”
“We’re from two different worlds. I have to deal with things you don’t even have to think about.”
“Try me,” he challenged. “Does this have to do with my money?”
“That wasn’t the first thing on my mind.”
He stormed to his feet, his large frame casting a dark shadow over her. Despite trying to keep his face straight, he felt his features constricting, his skin getting hot. He went to speak, cutting the sentence off before it had a chance to leave his lips. He walked around the couch, pacing back and forth, combing his fingers through his hair. He ignored her questions, actively trying to keep his anger from taking over his mind.
“RUSSELL.”
He slipped into his jacket and headed for the door. “I’m gonna leave.”
She jogged after him, stripping his hand from the door handle. “Why?”
“I need a drink.”
“Wow. The truth pissed you off that much.”
His shoulders raised two inches before falling back to their original place. “I expect that from other people, but I thought you were more open-minded than that.”
“Sorry to have disappointed you.”
“Me too.”
The shock that rippled through her body was quickly replaced by anger. The scene was reminiscent of their first encounter. She pressed her back against the metal door, letting him know he wouldn’t be leaving until their discussion was done. “You act as if I’m wrong, like that isn’t a major factor in our relationship.”
“One, we’re not in a relationship.” He was too angry to see her wince. “Second, the color of my skin shouldn’t matter.”
“I don’t care about that, it’s the life that it affords you.”
“And what life is that, Nariah?”
“You’re a freaking billionaire. How many black billionaires do you know?” When he didn’t answer, she continued. “How many times have you been pulled over in the past six months? How many times have you been afraid to call the police despite being a victim?”
“You don’t have to deal with that. Look around,” he spread his arms wide, “you’re in Italy. How many black people do you know get to vacation in fucking Italy?” He made no apologies for his language, tone, or volume. “You’re a hypocrite.”
“I see it every day.”
“But you don’t experience it.” He retreated a few steps, took a breath, and walked back. “All those people that you claim are victims—”
“I didn’t call them victims.”
“Excuse me…all those people you claim to be victims could have what they want if they applied themselves instead of relying on the government or choosing the thug life.”
“Drugs, gangs, guns, you know. There are other ways to make money than by destroying your own community. You’re evidence of that.”
“You son of a b—” She caught the word on the tip of her tongue. She held up her hands, her chest heaving. She took a moment to calm herself before addressing him. “You’re right. We both need a drink. I have some wine in the fridge, have a seat and I’ll get it.”
Russell thanked her after she handed him a glass, sliding to the edge of the couch to make room and create distance.
“We’re adults. You don’t have to do that.” She took a sip of her wine, the bitter taste stinging her throat on the way down. “We need to set some ground rules.”
He raised his glass in agreement.
“No generalizations, no misguided opinions, no stereotypes, and we have to keep our voices down. Agreed?”
“Add letting the speaker finish his or her point before responding and I’m good.”
“Fine. You have the floor.”
He went on to explain that he thought some people, not all, in the black community were guilty of allowing the government to take care of them. He cited examples of people more willing to live on welfare than get a job. He also used the black community’s propensity to spend any money they make rather than save or invest. “I understand that people have a hard time, but I’m a firm believer in using what you have to get out.”
“You’re right in some sense. Don’t be a smart ass when I ask this question, but have you ever been to the hood?”
His lack of response was his answer.
“There aren’t any jobs. What is a person supposed to do if he or she can’t work?”
“Go to where the jobs are,” he retorted.
“What if they don’t have a car?”
“Ride the bus.”
“What if they have kids and can’t afford a babysitter because they don’t have a job?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer, continuing, “These are the things my people have to face. I was fortunate to be raised in a two-parent household, with parents who cared about and were invested in my future. Most people don’t have that.”
“I don’t see that as an excuse.”
“You had both of your parents.”
His swallows were audible as he gulped down his wine. He offered to refill her glass as he headed to the kitchen, returning a minute later with the bottle in hand. His energy was different. He didn’t look at her as he poured the wine. Sadness glossed his features, which made him look different, but taking nothing away from his attractiveness. If anything, it enhanced it. He drank from his glass before speaking. “I had both parents, but it didn’t feel like it. My dad was so busy working that he was rarely around. My mom didn’t have much of a motherly instinct. Our nanny pretty much raised us.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“You’d think being able to do whatever you want, whenever you want is cool, but it just gives you an unrealistic view of the world.”
“I’m guessing the money didn’t help.”
“It didn’t, not when it comes to relating to people.” Russell set his glass down and held his head in his hands. His lips pressed together, his exhale escaped through the gaps. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye when she began rubbing his back. “You’re right. I don’t know anything about the African American plight.”
“It’s okay to say black people.” She laughed. “I really am sorry about your family. Are you close to them now?”
“Nope, not in a family type way. But when it comes to the business, we’re closer than ever.” His laugh had no life behind it.
“There’s still time to make it right.”
“I don’t even know if I want to at this point. There’s no forgiving what he did to—never mind.” He wrung his hands to keep her from seeing them shake. His jaw muscles flexed as he clenched his teeth, doing his best to keep his mind from traveling along the path the dark memories were trying to take him. A few of the more significant ones slipped through: the day after his father lost a billion-dollar contract to his biggest competitor; the day he lost a defamation case that cost him a million dollars.
“I’ll do anything I can to help. Family is important.” She moved closer, her breasts rubbing against his arm. “I’m sorry for bringing it up.”
“You didn’t know. It feels good being able to get it off my chest.” He caressed her thigh with a gentle but firm grip, one that showed his appreciation. “I might take you up on that if—”
“If what?”
“How long are you here until you leave?”
“About three days and some change.” She kissed his cheek, wiping away the bright red lip print. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it was nice.” He relaxed, leaning back and wrapping his arm around her. He stroked her shoulder as he spoke. “I wish you didn’t have to leave so soon.”
“Me too, but I gotta get back to real life.”
“I hear you. Still wish I could have more time to get to know you. You’re amazing.”
“What do you like most about me since I’m so amazing?”
A smile lifted the corner of his mouth, this one reaching his eyes. “Everything; your hair, your skin, your eyes.”
“So all the physical stuff?”
He increased his hold on her to keep her from getting up. He pulled her into his lap, nuzzling his face in her neck. “Forgive me, I’m a man, I say dumb stuff sometimes.” He pecked the back of her neck before nibbling on her shoulder.
“Yes, yes you do.”
“I like your mind, your attitude. I like that you don’t back down from anybody and aren’t easily intimidated.”
“I’m sure that’s a change for you.”
“You’re right. It is. Especially with women. They’re willing to do anything, say anything just for the chance to get close to me.”
“They want something,” she concluded.
“Right again.”
She took some time to process his revelation, feeling closer to him. She appreciated him sharing, recognizing the toll his life took on him. She placed another kiss on his cheek. “I guess Biggie was right.”
“More money more problems,” they recited together, laughing.
He turned to face her. “I really do like you, Nariah. And I really do wish we had more time.”
She stood, yellow moonlight flowing through the window highlighted the golden undertones of her skin, also causing her hazel eyes to glow. She offered her hand, beckoning him to his feet. She held his face and peered into his eyes as if she was trying to find the real Russell, the man outside the money and fame. As she looked at him, she wanted to know what made him happy, his pain, the things and people he loved; his goals, hopes, dreams, and fears.
“I wa—”
She halted his sentence with a kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the display of passion. She raked her fingers through his hair. The ragged nature of her breath demonstrated her intensity, her need, her yearning. She gasped when he pulled away.
“We don’t have to do this. We can wait. I can wait.”
“I want you.” Without another word, she began leading him to her bedroom, looking back when he didn’t budge.
“What about your friend?” he asked.
“She had a feeling this was gonna happen. Call her a prophet.”
In her bedroom, Russell waited on the bed while she lit candles, scattering them around the massive room. One on the dresser, one on each of the side tables, and two on each end of the TV stand gave the room the right ambiance.
Knowing they might not see each other again, she wanted the night to be memorable. After all, it’s not every day that she got the chance to be with a billionaire. But that was the last thing on her mind as she went in the bathroom to change. She liked him for him, the man that he was sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed in her room at the Gritti Palace in Italy.
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nbsp; While looking herself over in the long bathroom mirror, her insecurities surfaced. Her demons hissed in her ears.
He won’t like you.
Tell him to leave.
You don’t deserve to feel good.
You’re ugly.
No one wants to see your stretch marks.