Betrayal

by Naomi Chase

  Brandon grimaced. “I’m not saying the wedding’s completely off,” he explained, walking toward her. “All I’m saying is that we can’t get married today.”

  “Why not?” she demanded. “We’re already here at the courthouse. We have the marriage license. Our family and friends are out there waiting—”

  “Listen to me.” Brandon cupped her face between his hands, his eyes boring into hers. “You know I wanted a long engagement. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to be talked into a hasty ceremony. I need more time.”

  “Time for what?” Cynthia challenged accusingly. “Time to change your mind about marrying me? Time to keep whoring around with Tamia?”

  Brandon shook his head slowly at her. “I’ve never denied my feelings for Tamia. They’re not going to disappear overnight just because you want them to.”

  “I know that,” Cynthia snapped. “But I also know that we have a baby on the way, and I have no desire to be a single parent.”

  “You won’t be, I promise.” Brandon’s voice gentled. “I meant it when I told you that I’m committed to making this relationship work. But a lot has happened over the past year, Cynthia. I need more time to process everything, get my head on straight. If you really love me and want to be with me, you need to be patient with me.”

  “Patient?” Cynthia repeated incredulously. “I was in love with you for two fucking years before I shared my feelings with you! Was that not patient? And once we were together, I was patient with you while you defended Tamia during her murder trial, even though I knew it’d come back to haunt me. Don’t you dare talk to me about patience, Brandon Chambers, because I’ve been nothing but patient with you. If I were any more patient, I’d be a fucking doormat!”

  Brandon slowly removed his hands from her face and stepped back. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through, Cynthia. I really am. But I’ve never tried to hurt you or deceive you. From the very beginning I’ve kept it one hundred with you. You’re a good woman, and I truly appreciate the way you’ve been there for me these past few years—”

  “Yet this is how you choose to repay me,” Cynthia said bitterly. “By jilting me at the altar.”

  “I’m not jilting you,” Brandon corrected. “We’re still engaged, and we’re still getting married. Just not today.”

  “Unbelievable,” Cynthia hissed, rapidly blinking back tears. “I should have known you’d pull a stunt like this.”

  Brandon grimaced, guilt gnawing at his insides as he tucked his hands into his pockets. “We need to let our guests know that we’re postponing the ceremony.”

  “We?” Cynthia shrieked. “Are you crazy? I can’t go out there and show my face to all those people! You’re the one who’s calling off the damn wedding, so you should be the one to tell everybody!”

  Brandon nodded slowly. “You’re right.”

  Cynthia stared at him as he turned and started from the room. Reaching the door, he paused and glanced back at her. “I know you don’t want to hear this again,” he said quietly, “but I truly am sorry.”

  She held up a trembling hand, nostrils flaring with emotion. “Just go, Brandon.”

  “Cynthia—”

  “GO!”

  He gave her one last look of regret, then turned and walked out the door.

  Dreading the task ahead of him, he made his way to the small room where their family members and closest friends were waiting for the ceremony to begin. Cynthia’s father stood at the front conferring with the judge, who was frowning as he impatiently checked his watch.

  The moment Brandon appeared, all conversation ceased.

  Joseph glowered at him, while Coretta offered a relieved smile that sent a sharp stab of guilt through Brandon.

  Squaring his shoulders, he walked to the front of the room. Ignoring Joseph and the judge, he scanned the faces gathered before him. His parents watched him with tense expressions, as if they were bracing themselves for the worst. His younger siblings, Beau and Brooke, were smirking with suppressed laughter, while Cynthia’s four brothers looked anything but amused. His best friend, Dre, was staring at him with a mixture of wariness and sympathy.

  Brandon glanced away, clearing his throat before he spoke.

  “Thank you all for coming and waiting so patiently. Unfortunately, Cynthia and I won’t be getting married today.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”

  As a shocked silence swept over the room, Cynthia’s mother moaned, “Help me, Lawd Jesus.”

  And then she fainted.

  Chapter 3

  Tamia

  Tamia awakened with a hangover from hell.

  Her head was pounding violently, and her mouth was so dry she tasted dust.

  Groaning hoarsely, she cracked one eye open, then the other, and squinted around her large bedroom. The drapes were open, revealing an overcast sky swollen with thick gray clouds.

  Grateful for the absence of bright sunlight, she reached up to massage her throbbing temple, trying to piece together what had happened last night. She remembered waiting at the restaurant, hoping and praying that Brandon would show up. Instead it was Dominic—Dominic!—who’d joined her at the table and tried to have dinner with her. After cussing him out, she’d stormed out of the restaurant and gotten into her car.

  Tamia frowned, shaking her head.

  Leaving Da Marco was the last thing she remembered. But judging by her monster hangover—and the empty bottle of Patrón on the bedside table—it was obvious what had happened. She’d tried to drink herself into oblivion to cope with the pain of losing Brandon.

  He hadn’t met her at the restaurant last night, so that could only mean one thing.

  He’d married Cynthia.

  Tamia closed her eyes, sickened by the thought of Brandon and Cynthia waking up this morning as husband and wife. It wasn’t fair. She’d gone to hell and back trying to become Mrs. Brandon Chambers. But she’d failed, and now Brandon would spend the rest of his life with someone else.

  As tears flooded her eyes, Tamia pulled back the covers and sat up. Instantly her stomach lurched and bitter nausea rushed up her throat. She clapped a hand over her mouth and ran to the bathroom. Dropping to her knees, she vomited into the toilet.

  When she had nothing but dry heaves left, she wiped a hand across her mouth and swore she’d never touch alcohol again.

  After flushing the toilet, she pushed weakly to her feet and trudged over to the sink. As she reached for her toothbrush, she caught her reflection in the mirror and grimaced.

  She looked as bad as she felt. Her hair was a tangled mess and her mascara was smeared, giving her the dreaded raccoon eyes. She’d slept in her Bordelle lace bra and panties, a new set she’d splurged on just in case Brandon came home with her last night.

  So much for that, she thought forlornly, shoving her toothbrush into her mouth and vigorously scrubbing her teeth.

  Just as she finished, her smartphone went off.

  Tamia froze, recognizing the familiar ringtone. It was Usher’s “My Boo.”

  Brandon!

  Heart thumping into her throat, she hurried out of the bathroom and raced to the bedside table, snatching up her phone right before the call got kicked to voice mail.

  “Hello,” she answered breathlessly.

  “Hey. It’s me.” Brandon’s deep voice was low. Subdued enough to make her nervous.

  “Brandon.” She swallowed tightly. “Where are you?”

  “At home.”

  “Are you . . . alone?”

  “Yeah.” There was a lengthy pause. “I didn’t do it.”

  Tamia slowly lowered herself onto her bed. “You didn’t do what? Didn’t marry Cynthia?”

  “No.”

  Tamia almost wept with relief.

  “Why not?” she whispered.

  Another long pause. “I couldn’t go through with it. I . . . wasn’t ready.”

  Tamia moistened her dry lips. Her throbbing headache was suddenly an afterthought. “I waited for you at the resta
urant. When you didn’t show, I thought . . .”

  “I know.” Brandon let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I needed time to think. Sort things out.”

  “I understand.” Tamia hesitated, a burning question on the tip of her tongue. “Is it over between you and Cynthia?”

  In the heavy silence that followed, her heart plummeted.

  “No,” Brandon said quietly. “We’re still engaged.”

  A spasm of pain shot through Tamia. Inhaling a shaky breath, she lay back against her pillows and squeezed her eyes shut.

  “So you’re still going to marry her?” she whispered.

  He paused. “Eventually.”

  “What’re you waiting for?”

  He didn’t answer her.

  “Why prolong the inevitable?” she pressed, fighting the onset of hysteria. “If you really want to marry her, then just do it and get it over with. Don’t drag this out any longer than it has to be. It’s not fair to her or to me.”

  “Tamia—”

  She sat up quickly, ignoring her throbbing skull. “Listen to me. I’m not saying that you have to marry her, Brandon.”

  He exhaled a deep, ragged breath. “She’s having my baby, Tamia.”

  “I know that. I also know that you don’t have to be with her to be involved in your child’s life. You and Cynthia can share custody. And if you’re worried about her feeling overwhelmed as a single mother, you can hire a nanny to help her.”

  Brandon was silent for several moments. “I don’t want to be a part-time father, Tamia. I thought you understood that.”

  Guilt washed over her. She didn’t want to be selfish. She knew better than anyone how devastating the absence of a father could be to a child. At the same time, she didn’t want to lose Brandon. He was the love of her life, the only man who could make her happy.

  Closing her eyes, she imagined him there with her, holding her, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered the words she longed to hear.

  I love you, Tamia. I choose you.

  “I didn’t call to upset you,” he said quietly. “I just wanted to let you know where things stand.”

  “Thank you for calling.” Tamia swallowed with difficulty. “Good-bye, Brandon.”

  He lingered for a long moment, then hung up.

  Blinking back tears, Tamia lay down on the bed and stared numbly at the ceiling.

  Seconds later he called back.

  She picked up the phone but didn’t speak.

  Neither did he.

  They sat on the phone listening to each other breathe. The silence between them conveyed more than any words could have.

  After several excruciating minutes, Tamia whispered, “I can’t do this, Brandon.”

  “I know, baby.” His voice was husky with pain and regret.

  “I don’t know what you want from me.”

  “Nothing . . . and everything.”

  Tears leaked from Tamia’s eyes and rolled down the sides of her face. Her heart was breaking, and it hurt like nothing she’d ever felt before. “If we can’t be together . . . then I need to move on.”

  Brandon was silent.

  “We need to leave each other alone,” she reiterated.

  “That’s easier said than done,” he said thickly.

  “I know.” As more tears seeped out, Tamia shook her head slowly and confessed, “I was so miserable last night that I got completely blitzed, and now I have the worst hangover.”

  “I’m really sorry to hear that.” Brandon blew out a deep, heavy breath. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t sleep worth a damn because I couldn’t stop thinking about us and missing you.”

  Tamia’s throat tightened. “That doesn’t make me feel better,” she sniffled.

  He didn’t respond.

  Swiping at her watery eyes, she sat up and slid off the bed. Padding across the room to her armoire, she retrieved a black silk robe and slipped it on.

  Hearing her movements, Brandon murmured, “What’re you doing?”

  “Going to the kitchen to make some coffee.”

  “Oh.” His voice softened. “I miss your coffee.”

  That brought a small, wistful smile to her face. “I miss making it for you.”

  He was silent for a long moment. “Do you want me to let you go?”

  “You should.” Tamia sighed. “But I’m not ready for you to.”

  “Neither am I.”

  Raking a hand through her mussed hair, Tamia left the bedroom and started down the hall toward the kitchen. “Since you’re not on your honeymoon, what’re you gonna do today?”

  Brandon sighed heavily. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. What about you?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll probably just—” Suddenly she screamed.

  “What is it?” Brandon asked in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

  Tamia froze in her tracks, staring into the living room.

  There, reclining on her sofa with his feet propped up on the coffee table, was Dominic.

  Jolted awake by her scream, he opened his eyes and regarded her in groggy confusion.

  “Tamia?” Brandon prompted. “What happened?”

  “I-I thought I saw a mouse,” she stammered.

  “A mouse?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Tamia and Dominic stared at each other.

  Before he could utter a word, Tamia rushed over to the sofa, jumped onto his lap, and clapped a hand over his mouth.

  Shut up! she silently warned.

  A wicked gleam filled his eyes.

  “As much as they charge for rent in that building,” Brandon joked, “you’d better not have any damn mice.”

  Tamia forced a laugh. “I know, right?”

  “Seriously though. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she quickly assured him. “I just hate rodents.”

  As Dominic’s eyes glimmered with laughter, Tamia glared at him. Dark stubble covered his jaw, and he wore a white wifebeater over his suit pants. Black tribal tattoos wove down his thick, muscular biceps. Her mind flashed on a memory of her tongue tracing the intricate pattern as she slowly rode his dick.

  As if he’d read her mind, Dominic’s lips curved into a smile beneath her hand. The damp heat of his breath against her skin sent shivers down her spine. She watched as his heavy-lidded eyes lowered to her large breasts bulging from her skimpy lace bra. Feeling his dick harden between her thighs, she scowled and yanked her robe closed.

  When she moved to climb off Dominic, his strong hands gripped her waist, holding her in place. She hated the way her pussy throbbed against his erection.

  Will I ever be immune to this crazy motherfucker?

  “Brandon”—her voice was shaky as hell—“let me call you back.”

  He hesitated for a long moment. “We can talk some other time.”

  Her heart sank like an anvil, because she knew that he was telling her good-bye. “Um . . . okay,” she mumbled, blinking back tears. “Enjoy your weekend.”

  “You too, Tamia,” Brandon said quietly. “Take care.”

  As soon as the call ended, Tamia slapped Dominic across the face and screamed, “What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?”

  He stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “What the hell are you talking about? You invited me here!”

  “WHAT? I did not!”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “Stop lying, muthafucka!” Tamia shrieked, scrambling off his lap. “Why the hell would I invite you into my apartment when I didn’t even want to have dinner with you?”

  He shook his head slowly at her. “You don’t remember, do you?”

  Tamia stilled, her eyes narrowing on his face. “Remember what?”

  Dominic frowned, lowering his feet to the floor. “When you left the restaurant last night, I was worried about you because you looked like you didn’t feel well. So I followed you outside to the parking lot. When I saw you sitting in the car with your head on the steering whe
el, I tapped on the window and asked if you were okay. You said you were, but I didn’t believe you. So I offered to follow you home to make sure you arrived safely. When we got here, you invited me up for a drink.” He pointed to the table.

  For the first time, Tamia noticed the empty bottle of wine and two glasses, one bearing red lipstick on the rim.

  She eyed Dominic suspiciously. “I don’t remember any of that.”

  “I’m not surprised,” he said wryly. “You had a lot to drink. You finished most of our wine, and before you stumbled off to bed, you grabbed a bottle of Patrón from the kitchen. I only planned to hang around until my buzz wore off, but I must have fallen asleep.”

  Tamia frowned. It bothered her that she couldn’t remember a single thing about last night. She’d never gotten that drunk before.

  She pinned Dominic with a glare. “Did anything happen between us?”

  His eyes glinted with amusement. “Like what?”

  “You know damn well what,” Tamia hissed. “Did we have sex?”

  He searched her face. “What do you think?”

  “Just answer the fucking question.”

  He chuckled, rising from the sofa. “If we did have sex last night, don’t you think I would have woken up in bed with you instead of out here?”

  “Maybe you snuck out in the middle of the night so I wouldn’t know what happened,” Tamia challenged.

  “If that were the case,” he drawled humorously, “I would have just left the apartment. I wouldn’t have stuck around.”

  Tamia glared at him. What he’d said made sense, but she didn’t trust him. She had every reason not to.

  He laughed softly, shaking his head at her. “Nothing happened last night, Tamia. As fine as you are, and as much as I’ve been feenin’ for your sublime pussy, I wouldn’t take advantage of you while you’re drunk.”

  She snorted derisively. “This coming from the same man who blackmailed me for sex.”

  “Actually,” Dominic countered mildly, “I’m not the same man. As you know, a lot has happened over the past several months. Losing my wife and grandfather forced me to reassess my life and realize the error of—”

  “Nigga, please!” Tamia scoffed contemptuously. “Spare me your ‘I’m a changed man’ bullshit. You haven’t changed. You’re just as sneaky and conniving as you were the day I met you.”