Exposed

by Naomi Chase

  Cynthia kept her expression neutral. “Brandon and I are just friends.”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit,” Tamia jeered. “See, heffa, I peeped your game from day one. You might have Brandon fooled with your innocent, just-one-of-the-boys act, but I’m not naive. I know good and damn well when a woman’s trying to seduce my man. Maybe you thought you saw an opening because Brandon and I have been going through a rough patch lately. But take a good look at me. See this dress, see these diamonds? Bought and paid for by Brandon. The nigga just dropped forty grand on me without batting an eye! And, oh yeah, he’s been fucking me properly every night he leaves your ass at the office and comes home to me. So don’t get it twisted, bitch. That’s my man, and I ain’t going no-fucking-where!”

  Cynthia’s face flushed with anger and humiliation. Pursing her lips tightly, she glanced around the room to make sure no one was standing close enough to overhear the hostile exchange.

  “Brandon’s a wonderful man,” she said with quiet dignity. “Probably better than you deserve.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Tamia spat, raking her with a scornful glance. “You think you’re better than me just ’cause your daddy is a fake minister who made his fortune by swindling millions out of his gullible worshippers? Bitch, please.”

  Cynthia’s eyes flashed with fury.“You got a problem with me? Fine. But leave my family the hell out of it!”

  “What’s wrong?” Tamia taunted.“Truth hurts?”

  Their stares locked.

  After several seething moments, Cynthia took a step backward and shook her head in disgust.“You know what, Tamia? I don’t even know why I’m having this ridiculous conversation with you. You’re not worth the aggravation.”

  “Trust me, bitch, you haven’t seen aggravation. Keep pushing up on Brandon and see what happens.”

  Cynthia’s eyes narrowed sharply.“Are you threatening me?”

  Tamia stepped closer. “No, heffa, I’m warning you to stop insulting my intelligence with your hypocrisy. I see right through you, so you might as well cut the phony bullshit.”

  “Phony?” Cynthia echoed in disbelief.“Oh no, sweetheart, I’m not the one who’s phony. I’m real. From the top of my head”—she glanced pointedly at Tamia’s fake bun—“to the soles of my feet. What you see is what you get. I’m real, and I’m honest. Can you say the same thing?”

  Tamia glared at her, wondering what Brandon may have told her.“Like I said,” she snarled,“you need to leave my man alone and find your own. Is Shane not good enough for you? Not hung enough? Not rich enough?”

  Cynthia’s nostrils flared with indignation.“I have no interest in Brandon’s money. I make enough of my own.”

  “Then you must be feenin’ for the dick.” Tamia smirked.“I understand. And just between you and me, girlfriend, the dick is outta this world.”

  Cynthia flinched, her mouth tightening at the edges.

  Tamia silently regarded her, eyes narrowed in shrewd speculation. As comprehension suddenly dawned, she whispered accusingly,“Oh, hell no. You have got to be kidding me. You’re in love with Brandon!”

  Cynthia was silent. But the look in her eyes said it all.

  Shit, Tamia thought, disarmed and dismayed. She could deal with a scheming bitch trying to steal her man out of lust or greed. But love? Love was an emotion that raised obsession to a whole new level. People did all kinds of crazy shit for love!

  “You need to get the fuck over it,” Tamia hissed.

  Cynthia smiled sadly.“I wish it were that simple.”

  “What? Bitch, you have lost your—”

  “Is there a problem?” a voice coolly inquired.

  Startled, both women whirled around to see Gwen standing there, eyeing them speculatively.

  Cynthia was the first to regain her composure. “No, ma’am,” she said smoothly.“There’s no problem at all.”

  Lips pursed, Gwen looked from one to the other. “Umm hmm.”

  Tamia swallowed hard. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Brandon and some of the others returning from the veranda.

  Gwen smiled warmly at Cynthia. “Mort Chernoff has been looking for you. He and his wife are about to leave, so he wanted to say good-bye to you and Brandon. He’s been hearing nothing but wonderful things about your pretrial work on the Quasar lawsuit. I told him I’d track you down and send you his way.” Her eyes twinkled. “Better not keep one of the founding partners waiting.”

  “Okay.” Cynthia nodded distractedly. “Thank you, Mrs. Chambers.”

  “Of course, darling. Anything for you.”

  Cynthia offered a weak smile. Darting one last glance at Tamia, she turned and strode off.

  As Gwen returned her attention to Tamia, every ounce of warmth vanished from her eyes. “Well. That was quite an … interesting encounter I just interrupted.”

  Tamia was silent, resisting the urge to fidget with her hands like a child who’d been caught misbehaving.

  Gwen eyed her reproachfully. “I’ve been hosting social functions for years, and I’m pleased to say that no occasion has ever been marred by a loud argument or—heaven forbid—a fistfight. That kind of uncouth behavior simply would not be tolerated in my home, or on my watch.”

  Tamia’s face burned with shame. She’d received the message loud and clear. She was the outsider, the riffraff, the hood rat who’d brought a ghetto element to the ritzy party. She’d do well to remember her place, or this would be the last function she ever attended at the Chambers estate.

  “Do you and Cynthia have a problem with each other?” Gwen inquired, arching an elegantly sculpted brow.

  Tamia hesitated for a moment. “No, ma’am,” she murmured, mimicking Cynthia’s earlier response.“There’s no problem at all.”

  “Good.”Gwen stepped forward, slipping her arm compan-ionably through Tamia’s as they began walking. “Because she and Brandon have always been so very close, and I would hate for their friendship to be ruined because of any tension between you and Cynthia. It wouldn’t be fair to force Brandon to choose between his dear friend and his … girlfriend.”

  The way she’d hesitated over the word let Tamia know which choice she’d make for her son if given the opportunity.

  “I understand, Mrs. Chambers. Perfectly.”

  “Splendid.” Gwen gently patted her hand as she glanced around the ballroom. “I want you to meet Dr. Harvey. He should be around here somewhere.”

  “Dr. Harvey?”Tamia repeated.

  “Why, yes.” Gwen met her blank gaze, smiling pleasantly. “You know, the president of Hampton University. Brandon told us that your younger sister attends the school, so I thought you’d appreciate an introduction to Dr. Harvey.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.”Tamia plastered on a bright smile, but the calculating gleam in Gwen’s eyes made her feel like the proverbial canary about to be swallowed by the cunning cat. Did Gwen know that Tamia had lied about Fiona attending Hampton? If so, how had she found out?

  More important, did Brandon know?

  “Let me see if I can find someone to track down Dr. Harvey for me,” Gwen murmured.

  As she signaled to one of the servants—one was always nearby, ready to do her bidding at the snap of a finger—Tamia glanced around, frantically searching through the crowd for Brandon. She was hoping he could rescue her. Now would be the perfect time for a tour of his childhood home.

  But Brandon was nowhere to be found.

  Neither—for that matter—was Cynthia.

  Tamia spied Shane laughing and conversing with Cynthia’s parents. But there was no trace of Cynthia or Brandon.

  Tamia frowned, an ugly kernel of suspicion sprouting in her mind.

  She gritted her teeth and smiled graciously at Gwen. “Could you please direct me to the powder room? I’d love to freshen my makeup before meeting Dr. Harvey.”

  “Of course, darling,” Gwen said smoothly.“Fitzroy will escort you.”

  The servant she’d summoned
smiled politely at Tamia before ushering her from the crowded ballroom.“There’s a small line leading to the ladies’ restroom over there,” he told her, pointing to the other side of the room. “So you can use the one out in the foyer.”

  Perfect, Tamia thought, an idea percolating in her mind.

  Once she’d finished retouching her makeup in the powder room, she cracked open the door, poked her head out, and peered up and down the cavernous foyer. Satisfied that the coast was clear, she crept out of the powder room and started across the foyer toward the butterfly staircases. She wasn’t returning to the party just yet. She was going in search of Brandon, plagued by visions of him and Cynthia alone in some dark room, Cynthia’s dress hiked up around her thighs, her eyes closed and her head thrown back in ecstasy as Brandon fucked her against the closed door.

  Gwen Chambers might not tolerate violence in her home, but that’s exactly what was going down tonight if Tamia caught Brandon and Cynthia screwing each other’s brains out.

  Halfway across the foyer, Tamia heard voices approaching from the direction of the ballroom. Reacting instinctively, she reversed course and raced around the nearest corner, which led her down another long corridor. She ducked inside the first room she came to and quickly closed the door behind her.

  When the servants’ voices passed by the door and continued down the hallway, she breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing she wanted was to be caught snooping around the mansion, especially by a member of the family. Gwen would swear up and down that she was a kleptomaniac who’d been casing the joint for priceless jewelry and heirlooms.

  Lips twisting bitterly at the thought, Tamia glanced around the small, darkened room. Moonlight poured through a pair of French windows, washing over what appeared to be some sort of storage area.

  Curious, Tamia ran her hand along the wallpapered wall until she found the light switch.

  It was an old sewing room, she realized, taking in the antique desk and cabinet, vintage sewing machine, mannequin, and a collection of beautiful fabrics and patchwork quilts. Tamia’s grandmother had been a seamstress; as devoutly religious as she’d been, she would have sold her soul to have a sewing room like this, complete with the view of the lushly manicured gardens.

  Smiling nostalgically at the thought of her grandmother, Tamia pushed away from the door and wandered over to an antique wooden trunk tucked into a corner of the room. Kneeling down, she unhooked the latches and raised the heavy lid.

  Inside were masks.

  Hundreds of them. Black, white, red, and purple—every color of the rainbow. There were elaborate Venetian masks adorned with gold and silver, as well as simple Harlequin masks made of satin. There were masks decorated with ostrich feathers and sequins, and sparkling gemstones and rhinestones.

  “Wow,” Tamia breathed, slowly reaching inside the trunk.

  There was a sound at the door.

  She sprang to her feet and wheeled around, heart lodged in her throat. She watched as the doorknob began to turn, her mind racing with possible explanations to justify what she was doing there.

  The door opened.

  It was Dre!

  Tamia exhaled a sharp sigh of relief and clutched a hand to her thudding heart. “Damn, Dre! You scared the shit out of me!”

  “Sorry.” He smiled wryly. “Didn’t mean to catch you doing … whatever it is you were doing.”

  Tamia laughed self-consciously.“It’s not what it looks like. I wasn’t snooping around or anything. I was looking for Brandon.”

  Dre raised a brow. “In his great-grandmother’s old sewing room?”

  “No, silly. Obviously I didn’t know what this room was when I came in here. Anyway, have you seen him?”

  “Who?”

  “Brandon.”

  Dre hesitated for a split second, then shook his head. “Nope. Haven’t seen him.”

  Tamia’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.“Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” He paused.“Now that I think about it, he probably snuck off somewhere to catch the second half of the game. He was joking about that earlier when we were outside. He’s been attending these social functions all his life, so he’s gotten pretty good at schmoozing for a couple hours, then disappearing for a while.”

  “Well, it would have been nice if he’d given me a heads-up,” Tamia grumbled, not entirely convinced that Brandon had snuck off to watch a basketball game. Not alone, anyway.

  Hearing her disgruntled tone, Dre gave a low chuckle. “Don’t be mad at him. He probably didn’t want to pull you away from his mother.” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “I know how important it is for the two of you to bond.”

  Tamia gave him a dirty look.

  He laughed, his teeth flashing white against his dark skin. Solid and muscular, he cleaned up nice in Armani.

  “Speaking of the honorable judge, she sent me to find you, said she wanted to introduce you to some college president. Fitz told me the last time he saw you was when he showed you to the powder room.” Dre gestured around.“What happened? You got lost on your way back to the ballroom?”

  “No,” Tamia said defensively. “Your best friend was supposed to give me the grand tour, but since he went missing, I decided to do a little exploring on my own.” She stared him down defiantly.

  Dre laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I was just following orders. You stick around long enough, and you’ll learn that when the judge says ‘Jump,’ your only response should be ‘How high, Your Honor?’”

  Tamia could think of a few choice things she’d like Brandon’s mother to jump into, but she refrained from saying so. “We’ll go back in a few minutes. Now come in and close the door before someone walks by and sees us in here.”

  Dre complied.

  Turning away, Tamia knelt in front of the trunk once again and began sorting gingerly through the collection of masks. “So many of them,” she marveled.

  “I know,” Dre agreed, wandering over with his hands tucked into his pockets. “Brandon’s great-grandmother made most of those masks. Her family was from New Orleans, so I guess she wanted to bring the spirit of Mardi Gras to her new home. Brandon says his great-grandparents threw a masquerade ball at least twice a year, a tradition that’s been continued by his mother. Hey, weren’t you at the New Year’s Eve ball?”

  “No,” Tamia said sourly. “I didn’t receive an invitation to that particular soiree.”

  “Oh.” Dre looked sheepish.“Sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Brandon took me to New York instead. I’d always wanted to experience New Year’s Eve in Times Square, so we had a wonderful time.”

  “That’s good,” Dre said, coming up beside her.

  Tamia reached for a black sequined mask, held it up to her face, and turned to smile playfully at Dre.“What do you think?”

  “Oh, shit,” he whispered hoarsely, staring down at her like she’d suddenly sprouted wings—or horns.

  Tamia frowned, puzzled by his strange reaction. “What?” she asked, lowering the mask from her face.

  Dre shook his head slowly as he backed away from her. “Ever since I met you, I’ve been trying to figure out who you remind me of. Now I know, and it’s so crazy I can’t even believe it.” He paused, gaping incredulously at her.“You’re Mystique!”

  Chapter 35

  Dre’s stunned declaration sent Tamia reeling.

  Of all the people in the world who could have watched my porn videos, why, oh, why did Brandon’s best friend have to be one of them?!

  Feigning ignorance, she got slowly to her feet, nose wrinkled in confusion.“Mystique? Who the hell is that?”

  But Dre wasn’t buying it—not for a second. “You know good and damn well who Mystique is. Hell, as many times as I’ve watched those videos, I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner.” His eyes narrowed, examining her features. “It must have been, what, seven years ago? Eight? You were younger, so your face was fuller. Rou
nder. And it’s been over a year since the last time I watched the video. Those are the only explanations I can give for why I didn’t recognize you sooner.” He looked her over, then quickly glanced away, as if he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Like remembering her naked.

  “Shit,” he whispered again, passing a trembling hand over his smooth bald head. He looked shell-shocked.

  Striving for composure, Tamia said in a low, measured voice,“Dre, listen to me—”

  He cut her off.“When are you gonna tell Brandon?”

  Aghast, she stared at him.“I-I’m not. I mean, I wasn’t planning to—”

  “What?” Dre exclaimed in angry disbelief.“What the hell do you mean you weren’t planning to tell him? You were a”—he glanced toward the closed door before dropping his voice to a sharp whisper—“fucking porn star! Don’t you think that’s something your boyfriend should know?”

  “It’s not what you think.” The words tumbled out of Tamia in a panicked rush.“I needed money to pay for college. I couldn’t get enough in student loans, and I had to help support my family. I didn’t know what else to do!”

  Dre frowned, his expression softening slightly. “Look, I’m not here to judge you or the decision you made years ago. You did what you felt you had to do at the time. But you also have to realize that your actions have consequences. I mean—damn, Tamia! If Brandon knew that his own friends had been jerking off to your porno videos, his mind would be totally fucked up! He’d be devastated.”

  “That’s why he doesn’t need to know,” Tamia insisted. “Why hurt him needlessly?”

  A look of disgust crossed Dre’s face. “You’re not worried about sparing Brandon’s feelings. You’re worried about losing your golden ticket into the Chambers family dynasty.”

  “That’s not true!” Tamia protested vehemently. “I do care about Brandon’s feelings! I love him!”

  “Then tell him the truth.”

  Her throat tightened; her eyes were brimming with tears. “I can’t,” she whispered.