by Naomi Chase
Tamia felt sick to her stomach. “Look,” she said, darting a furtive glance toward the door,“I don’t know who the hell put you up to this, but you wasted your time coming here. I stopped doing those movies a long time ago, and I have no intention of coming out of retirement for you or anyone else. Now you need to leave before I call security.”
Dominic laughed softly, unfazed by the threat.“You won’t call security.”
“Think I won’t?” Livid, Tamia spun away from him, rounded the conference table, and marched toward the phone at the opposite end.
“Do your colleagues know about your past life as a porn star?”
That stopped her dead in her tracks.
She stared across the table at Dominic. The wicked gleam in his eyes chilled her to the bone.
“Do they know about your alter ego Mystique, the submissive with a sublime pussy?” he taunted. “Do they know how much you enjoyed being spanked and fucked in the ass? Do they know how much you loved sucking your master’s big, black—”
“Stop,”Tamia whispered, feeling faint.“Just stop.”
But he ignored her.“What about your boss? When I contacted the agency and specifically asked to work with you, he couldn’t stop singing your praises. But does he know how truly talented you are? Would he risk the company’s outstanding reputation by promoting an employee with a … checkered past?”
Tamia gaped at him in horror.“Are you blackmailing me?”
Dominic smiled narrowly. “Blackmail is such an ugly word, you know? I prefer to think of this as a business transaction, one that can be mutually beneficial.”
“How?” Tamia hissed. “You’re the only one who’d get something out of this damn deal.”
“That’s not true,” he countered mildly. “In exchange for your cooperation, you’d get my sworn promise to keep your dirty little secret.”
Tamia glared at him.“And if I don’t ‘cooperate’?”
“You will,” he said with certainty.
Panic gripped her chest. “You can’t make me do anything!”
“No?” he challenged, raising a thick brow.“Tell me, Mystique. Does the lieutenant governor’s son know that you used to be a porn star?”
At the reference to Brandon, the blood drained from Tamia’s head.
Dominic smiled, slow and satisfied.“I didn’t think so.”
“Why the hell are you doing this to me?” she cried.
“I already told you. I’m one of your biggest fans. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet you in person, to see if reality lives up to the fantasy.” He looked her up and down slowly, visually peeling away each article of clothing. “So far I haven’t been disappointed.”
Nausea churned in Tamia’s stomach. “It’s time for you to leave.”
He raised a brow. “But we haven’t discussed my ad campaign yet.”
Is he serious? Tamia wondered incredulously. “Under the circumstances, I’m sure you can understand why I’d have a problem working with you.”
“You’re up for a promotion,” he smugly reminded her. “Can you really afford to turn away clients?”
Tamia didn’t reply, but she knew he was right. Landing another major account would bolster her chances of receiving the promotion and give her an edge over her competition.
But at what cost?
“Why don’t you give it some more thought?” Dominic suggested mildly. “I’d hate to have to tell your boss that you forced me to take my business to another ad agency.”
Tamia glared at him, her jaw tightly clenched. The bastard knew how to play dirty.“You need to go.”
He smiled, then unhurriedly rose to his feet, smoothing a hand over his silk tie.
As he rounded the table and came toward her, Tamia didn’t know whether to bolt or grab the first sharp object she could get her hands on. She had time for neither before Dominic reached her. She folded her arms across her chest, a protective gesture that had the unintended effect of drawing even more attention to her cleavage.
Dominic stared at her bulging breasts, then licked his lips and gave her one of those lascivious smiles that made her feel violated. Powerless.
She closed her eyes and averted her face as he leaned close, his warm breath fanning her cheek. “You have twenty-four hours to consider my offer,” he whispered in her ear. “Don’t keep me waiting, or I promise you’ll regret it.”
Tamia swallowed hard, shaking from the inside out.
When she opened her eyes again he was gone, leaving behind a white business card on the table and a subtle trace of his cologne.
Chapter 3
Tamia was no good for the rest of the day.
She found herself looking at the clock every five minutes, which only made the time drag by slower. As soon as five-thirty crawled around, she grabbed her belongings and hightailed it out of the office. Working late that evening was out of the question. Not with her mind reeling from Dominic Archer’s shocking ultimatum.
She’d always feared that her past would come back to haunt her. For the past seven years she’d tried her damnedest to distance herself from it. No one was ever supposed to find out that she’d once starred in a series of underground porn videos to help put herself through college. She’d gone by the stage name Mystique and had always worn a black leather mask during her scenes, which concealed her identity from viewers while adding to her allure. She’d never befriended any of her costars or hung around the studio longer than necessary. Once shooting ended for the day, she’d headed straight to the dressing room, changed into her clothes, and bounced. She hadn’t cared whether the other actors thought she was a stuck-up bitch—which they unanimously had. All she’d cared about was making enough paper to afford her tuition and textbooks. And since she’d had no aspirations to become the next Vanessa del Rio, she’d adamantly insisted on remaining anonymous to viewers.
Fortunately for her, the studio owner had been just as committed to protecting her identity as she was—though for entirely different reasons. Lou Saldaña was a smart, savvy businessman who’d recognized that a masked Tamia was more profitable to him than an unmasked Tamia. Her Mystique Slave Chronicles videos had been best sellers in the underground porn industry, and she’d received more fan mail than any of her costars. The aura of mystery surrounding her made her so popular that Lou had to threaten his employees with lawsuits to prevent them from revealing her identity to the public. And no one dared cross Lou, who was rumored to have ties to the Mexican mafia.
When Tamia told him that she was leaving the studio to pursue a career in advertising, he’d offered her the sun, moon, and stars to change her mind. When nothing worked, he’d grudgingly wished her well and promised to continue safeguarding her secret.
He’d kept his word. For seven years Tamia had been lulled into a false sense of security, believing that her days as a porn star were truly behind her.
She should have known better.
Someone had talked to Dominic Archer. Maybe one of the studio’s disgruntled employees, or a former costar who’d wanted to get back at her for stealing the spotlight. Or maybe even Lou himself. Tamia had heard through the grapevine last year that the studio was struggling financially and Lou was up to his tattooed neck in debt. So maybe he’d accepted a bribe from Dominic Archer. If the price was right, anyone could be bought.
Tamia frowned as she merged onto the busy freeway. Ultimately it didn’t matter who’d betrayed her secret. What did matter was that a complete stranger was blackmailing her for sex in exchange for his silence. If she didn’t give him what he wanted, she risked losing everything she’d worked so hard to achieve. She couldn’t let that happen.
But could she really go through with becoming Dominic Archer’s sex slave? She’d never cheated on Brandon before. Never even been tempted. Sure, she’d often wished that he didn’t work such long hours so they could spend more time together. But she’d always reminded herself that any sacrifices she made now would go a long way toward securing her future
as Mrs. Brandon Chambers. Fucking another man didn’t exactly fall under the category of “noble sacrifices.”And keeping such a sordid secret from Brandon wasn’t the way she’d envisioned starting a new life with him.
But what other choice did she have?
You always have a choice, whispered a small voice.
The question was, which choice would she make?
Twenty minutes later Tamia stepped through her front door, locked the deadbolt behind her, and entered the code to reset her security alarm. Living in an ungentrified section of the Third Ward that had seen its share of home burglaries over the years, she could never be too safe. Which was also why she’d gone for a simple shabby-chic look when she’d redecorated her house several years ago. She’d heard of neighbors getting burglarized within days of buying new furniture and plasma televisions. On this block, everyone sat up and took notice of delivery trucks bearing the names of expensive furniture stores. If Tamia couldn’t find what she wanted in Ikea, she didn’t buy it.
Toeing off her sling-back pumps, she padded down the hallway to her bedroom. She’d grown up here with her mother and her younger sister, Fiona. With its long, narrow layout and windowless sides, the old shotgun house was as familiar to her as the nose on her face. It was the only home she’d ever known, yet she’d spent most of her life pining away for something bigger and better.
After her mother suffered a fatal stroke six years before, Tamia began socking away money so that she and her sister could move into a nicer neighborhood. With no mortgage to worry about, she’d been able to save enough for a down payment on a new house in just three years. And then disaster struck. Fiona was arrested and charged as an accessory to an armed robbery committed by her boyfriend. Her expensive legal fees had completely wiped out Tamia’s savings account, forcing her to postpone her relocation plans. To make matters worse, Fiona was convicted and sentenced to two years in prison.
Although Tamia faithfully visited her sister every other week, she’d never quite forgiven her for making such a damn mess of her life. If Fiona hadn’t been so caught up in that worthless bastard she was dating, she wouldn’t have wound up behind bars like some common criminal. If she’d exercised better judgment in her choice of boyfriends, she and Tamia would now be living in a two-story redbrick colonial with three large bedrooms, a gourmet kitchen, and a manicured front yard—the kind of house Tamia would have been proud to bring Brandon home to.
She grimaced at the thought. Deceiving Brandon about where she lived was the least of her problems right now.
Suddenly wanting to hear his voice—to assure herself that she hadn’t lost him yet—Tamia retrieved her cell phone from her handbag and speed-dialed his number.
He answered on the fourth ring, sounding tired and dis-tracted.“Hey, baby.”
“Hey, yourself.”Tamia sat on the edge of her bed.“Sounds like you’ve had a long day.”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“How’d the deposition go this morning?”
“Not as well as I would have liked. One too many surprises.” He pushed out a deep, weary breath. “I’ve definitely got my work cut out for me with this case.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tamia said sympathetically. “But I’m sure your client knows they’re in excellent hands. Speaking of which, why don’t you let me come over and give you a nice, relaxing massage?”
Brandon groaned.“Damn, baby, don’t torture me like that. You know I have to work late tonight.”
“I know. But maybe you can take a dinner break. I could bring some takeout and a bottle of wine, and we could eat on the floor in your office.” She smiled.“Now tell me that doesn’t sound good.”
“It sounds wonderful,” Brandon agreed, “and very tempting. But I really can’t tonight. I’ve got too much on my plate, and the last thing I want is for any of the partners to think I’m slacking because they walked in on me having a romantic picnic with my girlfriend.”
Tamia suppressed a long, deep sigh. “Of course. I understand.”
Hearing the note of disappointment in her voice, Brandon said,“I’ll make it up to you. How about dinner this weekend at Vic and Anthony’s?”
“This weekend?” she echoed skeptically. “You know it’s impossible to get reservations there on such short notice.”
Brandon chuckled.“Come on now. When have I ever had a problem getting reservations anywhere?”
He had a point there. All he had to do was mention his parents’ names, and doors opened to him as effortlessly as the parting of the Red Sea. Tamia was awed every time, and she couldn’t help wondering if she’d ever get used to dating a man with such powerful family connections.
“Dinner sounds heavenly,” she told him.
“Great. I’ll have my secretary call the restaurant and get us a table. Let’s shoot for Sunday night.”
Tamia smiled.“Works for me.”
“Good. Then it’s on—”
“—like Donkey Kong.”
They both laughed.
“Well, let me get back to the grind,” Brandon said after a few moments.“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay. Good night, baby.”
“Good night.”
Tamia hung up and set the phone down on her bedside table. Although she was sorely disappointed that she wouldn’t be spending the evening with Brandon, she respected the ambition that motivated him to put in such long hours at the firm. He was committed to achieving his goal of making partner, much as she was committed to securing the promotion to assistant brand manager. Like Tamia, Brandon was competitive by nature and driven to succeed, which made him more compatible with her than any other man she’d ever dated.
At the reminder of her job, Tamia rose from the bed and made her way to the antique secretary tucked into a corner of the room. Hand carved and made of solid oak, the rolltop desk clashed with the bedroom’s other, contemporary, furnishings. But it had been passed down from Tamia’s grandmother, so it was the closest thing she had to a family heirloom.
She sat down at the desk and powered up her laptop. Since she’d left work earlier than usual, she wanted to check her e-mail to make sure there were no urgent matters requiring her immediate attention.
After accessing the company’s network, she logged into her e-mail account and saw that she had two new messages. The first was from the art director’s assistant, confirming that one of Tamia’s print jobs had gone out on time.
The second message was from an unfamiliar sender and included an attachment, the subject line reading “Food for Thought.” Normally Tamia would have dismissed it as spam and deleted it without hesitation, but some instinct warned her to open the e-mail.
As soon as she read the message, she broke out into a cold sweat.
Dominic Archer had struck again.
If I don’t hear from you by nine a.m. tomorrow, this video will be sent to your colleagues and your precious boyfriend. The clock is ticking….
Tamia’s heart was pounding, her insides churning with dread as she eyed the attachment labeled “mystique.wmv.” She didn’t want to open it. Didn’t want to face the demons she’d worked so hard to exorcise from her soul.
But she had to know. Had to see for herself what she was truly up against.
So she clicked on the attached file.
Seconds later the screen was filled with an image of her having sex with a dark, muscular man sporting dreadlocks. Her red-painted lips were parted wide beneath a black leather mask. Her plump breasts swung up and down as her costar fucked her vigorously from behind.
The graphic images seared Tamia’s vision and assaulted her brain until she couldn’t take any more. Hurriedly she clicked off the video and swept a panicked glance around the room before she remembered that she was alone.
Heart thumping, armpits perspiring, she lunged to her feet and began pacing back and forth across the hardwood floor. If Dominic Archer sent that bombshell of an e-mail, she’d be ruined. Not only would she lose any shot
at landing the promotion, but the humiliation she’d suffer over the video would be devastating. She’d never live it down. And Brandon would never forgive her for keeping such a terrible secret from him.
She couldn’t let any of that happen.
So there was only one thing left for her to do.
Resigned to her fate, Tamia stalked over to the bed and reached inside her handbag. She retrieved Dominic Archer’s business card and grabbed her cell phone. With trembling fingers, she dialed the number he’d written on the back of the card.
He answered on the second ring. “Hello, Mystique,” he drawled.“I’ve been expecting your call.”
Tamia gritted her teeth.“When and where?”
He chuckled softly.“Don’t waste any time, do you?”
“When and where?” she repeated, in no mood for games.
“Come to my place.”
Tamia was surprised. She’d expected him to rattle off the name of a cheap motel, someplace befitting a sleazy tryst between a blackmailer and his victim.
She dug a pen out of her handbag.“Where do you live?”
As he recited the address, she jotted it down on the back of his business card.
“Tomorrow night,” he told her.“Be there at eight.”
“Fine,” she snapped.
Before she could hang up, he issued a soft warning.“Don’t be late. If I even suspect that you’ve gotten cold feet … well, I don’t have to tell you what will happen.”
Tamia swallowed the bile that rose up in her throat.“I’ll be there.”
“Good. Looking forward to it, Mystique.”
Tamia ended the call and tossed aside her phone, then rushed to the bathroom and lost the contents of her stomach.
Chapter 4
“Knock-knock.”
Brandon glanced up from a voluminous report he’d been reviewing to smile at the attractive woman who’d appeared in his doorway.“Wassup?”
