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.”
“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?”
“You put a tracking device on my phone. And don’t act like you don’t know how to do that.” Surprisingly, his laugh didn’t annoy her. “I saw your interview last night.”
“Studying your target huh?” He playfully winced at her punch. “Geez Holyfield.” He gave her right bicep a squeeze.
“That’s right. And don’t you forget it.”
Russell stretched his arms and back before standing. With minimal effort, he pulled his shirt over his head to reveal a toned abdomen and chest. Veins decorated his biceps and forearms, his trapezius muscles jutting from his shoulders.
She swallowed the extra saliva in her mouth as she watched him dry off.
“Wanna get my back for me?”
“I’m surprised you don’t have someone to do this for you,” she teased. She felt his hard muscles through the thin shirt, determining he loved working out as much as she did. “You need some work on your hamstrings.”
“Are you looking at my butt, Ms. Alexander?”
“Just making an observation.”
“Are you available to give me some pointers? You are a trainer, right?”
“Someone’s been googling me.” She tossed his shirt in his lap and retook her seat next to him. “I can help you out, but it’ll have to be within the next six days because I have to head back to the States.”
“Perfect. Maybe I can take you to dinner afterward.” He batted his long eyelashes, offering the most innocent smile he could muster, dimples on full display.
“Let’s just stick to the training, Mr. Haines.” She chuckled. She turned her attention back to her loose shoelaces before checking her watch for the time. Ten minutes had passed and she needed to get back to the hotel so she could meet Olivia for brunch. “If you want to start tomorrow, meet me at my hotel. I’m staying at the Gritti Palace.”
Russell matched her standing position, stretching his legs. “You know I never take no for an answer.”
“I would have guessed so.”
“Let’s make a bet. 400-meter dash. If I win, you let me take you to dinner. If you win, we’ll leave it at training.”
The competitor in her made her accept. They both performed a few more stretches before walking to the designated starting line. “One lap around right?”
He nodded once, his lips pulled back in the arrogant smile she hated. “Ready, set, go!”
Tears blurred her vision as she took off, which would have been a problem if her path hadn’t been clear. She gritted her teeth and fought through the burn in her legs. Knowing looking back would slow her down, she peeked out the corner of her eye to see her handsome opponent’s progress. Confidence swelled in her abdomen as he dipped in and out of her vision. She coached herself on her breathing technique, pulling air in through her nose and releasing it through a small gap in her lips.
200 meters to go.
Russell’s steps grew louder as he picked up the pace. It didn’t take long for him to overcome her. With 100 meters remaining, he turned so that he was facing her, sticking his tongue out as he ran backwards. His bright smile relayed all the thoughts in his mind.
Just as they were coming to the finish, Nariah pulled up, her sprint becoming a hobble before transitioning to a walk.
The arrogant expression left his face as he stopped to help her. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she huffed. She shook him off, limping to the nearest bench. She plopped down and let out an exaggerated breath, kneading the ball of muscle in the back of her leg.
“Here, let me.” He sat next to her so that their legs touched. He ignored the skepticism draping her features as he pulled her leg into his lap. He used a strong yet gentle grip to provide some relief.
“Why are you smiling like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you know something I don’t know,” she answered.
“It’s funny.” He chuckled to himself. His hands continued to work despite his eyes drinking in her dark chocolate golden skin.
“I want to laugh.”
“You didn’t want me to win so bad that you faked an injury.” He held her in place as she tried to reclaim her leg. He gave the top of her thigh a small tap, ceasing any more protest. “I didn’t take you to be a sore loser.”
“I’m not. You feel the knot.” She placed her hand over his to show him where he needed to apply pressure. “Who fakes a cramp, anyways?”
He looked into the distance, his dimple betraying his attempt not to grin as he pointed his thumb in her direction. He rubbed the spot she punched, adding a wince to increase the effect. “Hands to yourself, miss.”
“So says you.”
He followed her eyes to his hands, still maintaining a hold on her ankle. He traced various shapes on the spot as he watched her, taking in the smoothness of her skin. He couldn’t resist the urge to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her cheek, drawing her attention. He offered her a kind grin. “Have you ever thought about going natural?”
Her eyebrows inched toward her hairline before drawing together. She continued to stare at him, determined to will him into explaining. Several seconds passed before she decided to speak. “What do you know about going natural?”
He reached out to touch her dark brown tresses, receiving a hearty slap.
“Rule number one in dealing with black women: don’t touch their hair.”
“The others let me do it.”
A chuckle slipped from her chest as she carefully placed her foot on the ground. She stood and stretched her arms overhead, her curves on full display. She hiked her foot on the bench and reached for her toes, accentuating the length of her long legs. She bit into her bottom lip as her hamstring released its tension, a warm sensation taking its place. “Looks like you knew what you were doing.”
“I’ve been told I’m good with my hands.”
“Did the others tell you that?”
He stood and stretched his arms and back, his flexibility impressive for a man of his build. He created some distance between them to give himself enough room to perform a few yoga poses.
“How many others have there been exactly?” she questioned.
“Does it matter?”
“It does. You clearly don’t have the same experience with black women as you do with the tech industry. I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
“And what might that be Ms. Alexander?”
“Black women are way more complicated.” She jogged in place to test the likelihood of her muscles knotting. She performed a few more stretches before feeling confident enough to make the run home.
“If they’re all like you, I wouldn’t doubt it.” This time he dodged the punch she threw, grabbing her hand and pulling her into him. “I like complicated.”
She rested her hand on his hard chest before stepping back. “Then you’re in the right business.” Nariah kept her eyes on her watch despite the magnetic pull of his.
“Since you’re such an expert, why don’t you teach me?”
“Teach you what? How to treat black women?”
He stepped forward, their chests brushing together. He wrapped his large hand around hers then trailed it up her arm, stopping upon reaching her shoulders. “No.” He leaned down so that his breath warmed her lip. “Teach me how to treat you.” He caressed her jaw line with the back of his hand before cupping her chin. “How is your skin so perfect?”
Once again, her hand found his chest. She resisted the urge to squeeze the tight muscle, her hand falling back to her side. After a settling breath, she stepped back, combing her fingers through her hair. She hoped her melanin hid the blood she felt collecting in her cheeks. She took another step back, further distancing herself from his heat. “Water?”
“Huh?”
“Water, fruit, and vegetables. And minimal animal products.” She picked a curl from his forehead. “Maybe you’ll be able to get rid of some of these wrinkles, old man.”
“I can’t be that much older than you. How old are you, anyway?”
“Rule number two in dealing with black women: we don’t age.” She tapped his chin before turning her back to him. “I’d better get going, I have a date.”
He grabbed her before she had a chance to run off. “Speaking of, we need to make plans for ours. You lost, remember?”
“You can’t count that as a win,” she protested. “I caught a cramp. I couldn’t finish.”
He hunched his shoulders, his smile taking up more than half his face. “Are you free tonight?”
She observed him through a narrowed eye. The sun beaming behind him gave him an angelic appearance, gifting him an air of innocence that he wouldn’t have otherwise been able to conjure on his own. She shook her head at his pouted lip. If it hadn’t been for their earlier mishap, she would have been fooled into thinking he was a nice guy.
She ignored his pleas, too focused on his strength and stature. It wasn’t just his physical appearance that intrigued her. She liked the challenge he posed. She also liked their power plays, the subtlety of their attempts to control the situation. Something about him was different; besides the color of his skin. He was fun and wasn’t afraid to play her games.
“Well?”
“Call me later, Mr. Haines.” She walked into a jog, music filling her left ear.
“But I don’t have your number.”
“You’re a billionaire, you’ll find a way to get it.” She half expected him to chase after her, taking a glance back when she realized he wouldn’t.
Just as he had done after his first meeting, he remained in his place until she disappeared in the golden hues on the horizon. He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he replayed their conversation in his head. He peered in the direction she ran, flexing his fingers as he remembered how soft her skin was. His buzzing phone broke him out of his thoughts. The number wasn’t saved to his contacts and the city was unfamiliar. It continued to buzz in his hand as he contemplated answering it. “Hello?”
“Long time no talk, Russell.”
A cold chill raised the hair on his arms. He raked his fingers through his hair, dragging his nails down his neck. “How did you get this number?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re talking again.”
“What do you want?”
“Just to catch up, make sure you haven’t forgotten about me.”
“You know I haven’t.”
“I couldn’t tell. All I get is a letter every month.”
“And a check,” he hissed. “We had a legal agreement. You are to never contact me.” The line went quiet, hushed breathing flowing through the speakers. Russell looked over both his shoulders before taking a seat on the bench. He rounded his back, making himself as small as possible. He kept his eyes moving, his heart thumping in his chest. “Hello.” He stiffened as he heard a baby cry in the background.
“Shhh, it’s okay BJ. Daddy will be home soon.”
Pain radiated through his jaws from clenching his teeth. He forced himself to relax, calming his breath.
“Your son misses you. Don’t you BJ.”
His phone vibrated. He wiped his mouth and gazed toward the sky after seeing the tanned skin of a boy who shared his hazel eyes. He held his breath to keep his volume below a whisper. “I’m not even sure if he’s mine.”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t be sending me money every month.”
He caught her name before it had a chance to leave his chapped lips. He slowly released a breath through his nose, regaining his composure. “What do you want?”
“Only to see you, and for you to meet him. I’m in Italy. When are you free?”
He spotted an interracial couple jogging toward him, reminding him of the spunky woman that had just left him. The moment of joy passed as the voice on the other end of the line repeated her question. He offered them a smile as they passed, envious of their ignorance to the stares they received, the comments being made behind hands. “So stupid.”
“I know you didn’t just call me stupid.”
“Not you.”
“So when does our precious son get to meet his superhero father?”
“I’ll call you.” With that, he hung up and shoved the phone in his waistband. He made sure no one was watching him before taking off.