Niobia Bryant - Tempting The Billionaire

As the men talked quietly to one another, Ngozi eyed Chance’s profile, surprised by her reaction to him. And she still felt a tingle of awareness and a thrill that ruffled her feathers. He smiled at something Alek said, and her stomach clenched as a handsome face was instantly transformed into a beautiful one.

“He looks happy,” Alessandra said softly to herself.

Ngozi glanced over at her, seeing the hope on her face that her words were true. She remembered Alessandra explaining Chance’s absence because he had been left at the altar by his fiancée and was in the Dominican Republic recovering from his heartache. That had been nearly nine months ago.

What woman would leave him behind?

Ngozi had never asked for any more details than Alessandra offered, but that was before she’d seen him. Now a dozen or more questions flew to mind with ease. Her curiosity was piqued.

“I’m going up to get the baby,” Alessandra said. “Be right back.”

Ngozi glanced around the room, raising her flute in toast to those she knew professionally or personally. When her eyes landed back on the men, she found Chance’s eyes on her. She gasped a little. Her pulse raced.

He gave her a wolfish grin—slow and devastating—as he locked his gaze with hers. They made their way toward her, and Ngozi forced herself to look away as she felt a shiver race down her spine.

“I wanted to finally greet you, Ngozi,” Alek said.

She looked up at him with a smile. “I thought I was invisible,” she teased, presenting her cheek for a kiss as she pretended Chance was not standing there, as well.

“Chance told me Alessandra already made the introductions between you two,” Alek said.

She stiffened her back and glanced up at Chance. “Yes, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name,” she said.

“Same here,” he agreed. “Especially since we’re sharing godparent duties.”

“Right, right,” she agreed with a genuine smile. “We’ll rock, paper, scissors for overnight stays.”

He opened his mouth and then closed it, biting his bottom lip as if to refrain himself. He shared a brief look with Alek, who then shook his head and chuckled.

And she knew—she just knew —Chance was going to say they could have overnights together.

“Really, fellas?” she asked, eyeing them both like a teacher reprimanding naughty schoolboys.

“What?” they both asked innocently in unison.

Ngozi was surprised to see Alek, normally severe and businesslike, standing before her with mirth in his eyes. “So, we all have that one thing or one person—a vice—that makes us different. Today, Alek Ansah,” she said before turning to face Chance, “I have met yours.”

Chance’s smile broadened as he looked down at her. “And what—or who—makes you different, Ngozi Johns?”

She loved how her name sounded on his lips. “Oh, is there something about me that needs fixing?” she asked, forcing herself not to quiver under his intense stare as she met it with one of her own.

“From what I can see, not one damn thing,” Chance responded with ease, his voice deep and masculine.

“On that note,” Alek said, clearing his throat as he looked from one to the other, “I’ll take my leave.”

And he did, leaving them alone.

“Ngozi!”

At the sound of her name, Ngozi broke their stare and turned to find Marisa Martinez standing beside her. She gave the petite woman with a wild mane of shoulder-length curly hair a warm smile. “It’s good to see you, Marisa,” she said, her eyes taking in the clarity in the woman’s eyes and feeling sweet relief.

The former party girl who lived hard and fast off the allowance she received from the Dalmount dynasty had developed an addiction to alcohol and drugs that put both her and Alessandra’s freedom in jeopardy. As the head of the family, Alessandra felt it her obligation to guide and protect the entire clan made up of her two aunts, Leonora Dalmount and Brunela Martinez, her cousin Victor Dalmount and his bride, Elisabetta, and Marisa, Brunela’s daughter. That sense of duty had led Alessandra to seek out Marisa at a house party and to get caught in the middle of a police drug raid.

Ngozi was called on by her client to represent them both. The charges were dropped, but Alessandra had forced Marisa to either attend the long-term rehab program Ngozi arranged or be disowned.

Marisa chose the former, and six months later, she’d returned drug-free.

“I just wanted to thank you for everything you did to help me,” Marisa said, before lifting up on her toes to give Ngozi an impromptu hug.

“Well, I thank you for not letting my hard work go to waste,” she said, returning the hug. “You look good.”

Marisa released her. “I feel better,” she said, her eyes serious before she forced a smile and walked away with one last squeeze of Ngozi’s hand.

She watched her walk over to join her mother and aunt Leonora by the fireplace. With her work as a criminal attorney who insisted on pro bono work and tough cases, Ngozi was well acquainted with thankful clients.

“I’ve heard you’re one of the best attorneys on the East Coast.”

Him.

Ngozi took a sip of her champagne as she eyed him with an arched brow. “Just the East Coast?” she teased.

He chuckled.

“I’m kidding,” she rushed to say, reaching out to grasp his wrist.

His pulse pounded against her fingertips. She released him.

“La tentadora,” Chance said.

The temptress.

Her entire body flushed with warmth.

Chance was Dominican on his mother’s side, and like many other Afro-Latinos did appear to be what was standardly thought of as such. Much like Laz Alonso, Victor Cruz and Carmelo Anthony.

“Me das demasiado crédito,” she said, loving the surprise that filled his deep brown eyes at her using his native tongue to tell him that he gave her too much credit.

“Ah! ¿Tu hablas español?” he asked.

“Yes, I speak Spanish,” she answered with a nod.

“¿Pero alguna vez te ha susurrado un hombre en español mientras te hace el amor?”

Ngozi gasped in surprise and pleasure and excitement at his question of whether a man had whispered to her in Spanish while making love. She recovered quickly. “No,” she answered him, before easing past his strong build and imposing presence to leave.

“Usted tiene algo que esperar,” Chance said from behind her.

Then you have something to look forward to.

Chance Castillo.

She gave in to her own temptation and glanced back at him over her shoulder. He had turned his attention to greeting Alek’s younger brother, Naim. She pressed her fingertips to her neck as she turned away, admitting regret that his attention was no longer on her.

In truth, she couldn’t remember feeling that affected by a man in a long, long time.

She pursed her lips and released a stream of air, intending to calm herself.

Ngozi stopped a male waiter and set her near-empty flute on the tray. “Thank you,” she said. Her stomach rumbled, and she looked around with a slight frown, hoping no one had heard it. Quickly, she turned and tapped the shoulder of the waiter. “Is there another one like you with a tray of hors d’oeuvres? A sista is hungry.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “The food will be served after the ceremonies.”

Damn. Ngozi checked her platinum watch as he walked away.

She crossed the room and made her way outdoors. During the day, the September air was still pleasant. It was the early mornings and late nights that brought on a chill that reminded her summer was drawing to an end.