Niobia Bryant - Tempting The Billionaire

A city without traffic lights in 2018?

Chance felt bored already. He still found it hard to believe that his fun-loving best friend, Alek—who was born into a billionaire dynasty—chose the small town to live in after jet-setting all over the world.

Real love will make you do unexpected things.

His and Helena’s plans had been to travel the world and explore new adventures after they were wed.

And look how that turned out.

His hand gripped the steering wheel, lightening the color of his skin across his knuckles. He was glad to finally make it to Alek and Alessandra’s, accelerating up the private mile-long paved street leading to the expansive twenty-five-acre estate until he reached the twelve-foot-tall wrought iron gate with the letter D in bronzed scroll in the center.

Alessandra had inherited the estate upon the death of her father, Frances Dalmount, who co-owned the billionaire conglomerate the Ansah Dalmount Group, along with Alek’s father, the late Kwame Ansah. When Alessandra and Alek wed last year, they’d decided to make the Passion Grove estate their main home, while maintaining both his Manhattan and London penthouse apartments, and the vacation estate they built together on their private island in upstate New York.

After getting checked in by security via video surveillance, Chance drove through the open gates and soon was pulling up to the massive stone French Tudor. He hopped out and pressed a tip into the hand of one of the valets his friends were using for the day to park the vehicles.

He jogged up the stairs and accepted a flute of champagne from the tray being held by a servant. “Thank you,” he said with a nod of his head as he entered the foyer through the open double doors.

“Thanks so much.”

Chance paused and turned at the soft voice. He froze with his drink still raised to his mouth as he eyed the woman over the rim of the crystal flute. His heart began to pound, and his breath caught in his throat. Well, damn...

She was beautiful. Tall and shapely with skin as dark and smooth as melted chocolate. Long and loose waves of her beyond-shoulder-length ebony hair framed her oval face with high cheekbones, bright and clear brown doe-like eyes, and a nose bringing forth a regal beauty similar to the women of Somalia. The long-sleeved white lace dress she wore clung to her frame with a V-neck highlighting her small but plump breasts, and a wide skirt above long shapely legs. Her gold accessories gave her skin further sheen.

As she walked past the valet with a soft reserved smile, the wind shifted, causing her hair to drift back from her face as she moved with confident long strides that flexed the toned muscles of her legs and caused the skirt of her dress to flounce around her thighs. He couldn’t take his eyes off her and had no desire to do so. She was a treat, and the very sight of her as she easily jogged up the stairs made him hunger for her.

He smiled like a wolf behind his flute as his eyes dipped to take her in from head to delicious feet displayed in open-toe sandals with tassels that were sexy.

Who is she?

He felt excited with each step that brought her closer to him. When she paused to take her own flute of champagne, his hawk-like eyes locked on how the flesh of her mouth pressed against the crystal, leaving a light stain of her lip gloss on the glass.

Who is she? And does she want to leave with me later?

The prospect of that made his return to the States completely worth it.

“There you are, Chance.”

With regret, he turned from his temptress. “Here I am,” he agreed, genuinely smiling at Alessandra Dalmount-Ansah as she walked up to him, looking beautiful in a white light georgette dress with perfect tailoring.

She grabbed his upper arms lightly as she rose up on the tips of her shoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Welcome home, Chance,” she said with warmth, looking up at him with sympathetic eyes as she raised a hand to lightly tap his chin. “You good?”

He nodded, hating the unease he felt. How much more of this pity will there be today? he wondered, purposefully turning from her to eye the beauty in peach as she stepped inside the foyer.

Her eyes landed on his, and he gave that lingering stare and slow once-over that was nothing but pure appreciation and a desire to know more. Her brows arched a bit and her mouth gaped as she gave him the hint of a smile that was just enough to give him hope.

“Hey, Ngozi,” Alessandra said, moving past Chance to kiss her cheek in welcome.

So, this is Ngozi? Alessandra’s best friend and attorney. Brains and beauty. Just as Alessandra had said to him so many times.

Her eyes left him, and Chance felt the loss, finally taking a sip of the champagne he instantly recognized as Armand de Brignac.

“That’s right, you two have never met,” Alessandra said, reaching for one of Ngozi’s hands and then one of Chance’s. “Chance Castillo, godfather, meet Ngozi Johns, godmother.”

She pressed their hands together.

Their eyes met.

As they clasped hands, Chance stroked the pulse at her wrist with his thumb, enjoying how it pounded. It matched his own.

* * *

Ngozi felt breathless.

Her first sight of Chance Castillo as she stepped inside the house had made her entire body tingle with excitement. He was tall with an athletic frame that could not be denied in his tailored suit. His stance as he stood there eyeing her over the rim of his glass spoke of unleashed power. A man. A strong man built for pleasure. Not just handsome, with his medium-brown complexion and angular features softened by lips and intensified by his deep-set eyes, the shadow of a beard and his low-cut ebony hair...but intriguing. Something about him had instantly drawn her in. Excited her. Made her curious. Forced her to wonder, Who is he?

And now, as Ngozi stood there with her hand seemingly engulfed by his with his thumb gently grazing her pulse, she shivered and sought control of her body. Her pulse. Her heartbeat. Her breaths. The pounding of the sweet fleshy bud nestled between the lips of her core. Damn.

All of it surprised her. Never had she had such an instantaneous reaction to a man before.

Needing to be released from the spell he cast upon her, Ngozi pulled her hand from his and forced a smile that she hoped didn’t look as awkward as it felt. “Nice to finally meet, Mr. Castillo,” she said, proud of her restored cool composure.

It was all a sham, and she deserved an award for the performance.

“Chance,” he offered, sliding the hand she once held into the pocket of his slacks.

“Right this way, y’all,” Alessandra said, leading them across the stately round foyer, past the staircase and down the hall into the family room, where the glass doors were retracted, creating an entertaining space that flowed with people lounging inside or outside on the patio or around the pool.

Alek spotted them and excused himself from a couple he was talking with to cross the room to them. It was similar to watching a politician or other public figure as he spoke to each person who stopped him while still moving toward them. The man was charismatic.

Ngozi took a sip of her champagne as she glanced at Alessandra over the rim. The look in her friend’s eyes as she watched her husband was nothing but love. She’d found her happily-ever-after.

A twinge of pain radiated across her chest, and Ngozi forced herself to smile in spite of it.

“Careful, Ngozi,” Alessandra said, holding out her arm in front of her. “Don’t get in the way of this bro love, girl.”

Ngozi looked on as Chance took a few strides to meet Alek. The men, equally handsome, confident and strong in build, clasped hands and then moved in for a brotherly hug complete with a solid slap of their hand against the other’s back. It barely lasted a moment, but it was clear they were close.