Betrayal

by Naomi Chase

  Tamia frowned. “That’s not why I agreed to this . . . this partnership.”

  Dominic arched a brow at her. “It’s not?”

  “No. Not anymore.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Tamia gave him a level look. “I don’t have the time or energy to keep chasing after something that wasn’t meant to be. I need to move on with my life, and the first step is reclaiming the career that I loved. Serving five months in prison and going on trial for murder all but ruined my job prospects and wiped out my savings. I need a lifeline right now, and unfortunately, you’re it. That, and that alone, is the reason why I’m sitting here. So whenever you’re ready to talk business, let me know. Otherwise, let’s not waste each other’s time.”

  Dominic leaned back slowly and stared at her, his eyes gleaming with respect and admiration. “You’re quite a force to be reckoned with, Tamia Luke.”

  She smiled narrowly. “And don’t you forget it.”

  Dominic threw back his head and laughed, turning the heads of several female patrons who smiled and eyed him appreciatively. Tamia couldn’t fault any of them for staring. Dominic was fine as hell, and he rocked Italian suits like he’d been born in one.

  It wouldn’t be easy for Tamia to resist her attraction to him. But that’s exactly what she intended to do.

  “All right, Miss Luke,” he drawled. “Let’s talk business.”

  “Thought you’d never ask.” Reaching down beside her chair, Tamia retrieved her leather attaché case and removed a professionally bound document, which she passed to Dominic. “This is a copy of my five-year business plan. It’s the same thing I would present to a bank if I were applying for a small business loan. Based on extensive research I’ve done, as well as my own knowledge of the advertising industry, I was able to calculate my startup costs, which include funds needed for stationery, brochures, marketing campaigns, computer equipment, as well as insurance and legal matters. Since I’m starting out solo, I don’t have to worry about hiring and paying employees, and I don’t plan to collect a salary until the agency is consistently turning a healthy profit—as outlined on page ten.”

  Dominic looked impressed as he perused the charts, graphs, and detailed summaries she’d included in the report. “This is very thorough, Tamia. When did you prepare all this?”

  She smiled sardonically. “Let’s just say I made good use of the time that I was incarcerated.”

  Dominic glanced up, meeting her gaze. Something like sympathy shone in his eyes as he set down the document. “I’m glad you have an opportunity to put your business plan into action.”

  “So am I,” Tamia said quietly.

  They stared at each other, the connection interrupted by the return of their waiter. He settled their plates on the table and filled their glasses from the bottle of white wine Dominic had ordered.

  Once he left, Dominic picked up his glass and raised it to Tamia. “To a successful partnership.”

  Tamia smiled. “And second chances.”

  “Second chances,” Dominic murmured. “I like the sound of that.”

  They clinked glasses and sipped their wine, watching each other across the table.

  “I’ll write you a check after we eat,” Dominic said.

  “Really?” Tamia couldn’t suppress a thrill of excitement. “Don’t you want to read my business plan first to make sure I’m a good investment?”

  “I already know you are,” Dominic drawled, reaching for his fork. “You’re smart, talented, ambitious, and you work hard. I have no doubt that I’ll get a return on my investment.”

  For the first time in weeks, Tamia felt hopeful about the future. “I’m going to pay you back as soon as I can.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Yes, I do. I don’t like being indebted to anyone, Dominic.”

  He held her steady gaze for a moment, then smiled indulgently. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, let’s just enjoy our lunch and each other’s company.”

  Tamia picked up her fork. “I think I can manage the first part.”

  Dominic laughed. “You don’t think you can enjoy my company? Not even for an hour?”

  Tamia’s lips twitched. “I can try, but I make no promises.”

  “Fair enough.” Dominic watched as she cut into her blackened mahi mahi and took a bite. “How is it?”

  “Delicious.”

  “I knew you’d like it.” Dominic smiled, cutting into his own grilled fish. “We can have lunch at my restaurant next time.”

  Tamia arched a brow at him. “Next time?”

  “Yeah.” He met her gaze. “If we’re going to be business partners, we need to meet regularly to keep each other up to date on what’s going on.”

  It sounded reasonable enough, but . . .

  “Define ‘regularly.’ ”

  “At least twice a month,” Dominic replied.

  Tamia considered him for a moment. She’d prefer not to deal with him at all, but since he was financing her new business, avoiding him wasn’t an option.

  “Okay,” she reluctantly agreed. “Twice a month is fine.”

  Dominic smiled, his eyes glinting with approval. “I may have already secured your first client. His name’s Buddy Ehrlich. He and his wife own a bed-and-breakfast on a ranch outside of Houston. It’s a beautiful place, but business has been slow because no one knows they’re out there. I told them about you, and they were impressed with your track record. They’d like to meet with you as soon as possible.”

  “Really?” Tamia said excitedly. “That’s wonderful, Dominic. If you give me their contact information, I’ll get in touch—”

  “Tamia.”

  She whipped her head around to find Brandon standing at the table, his dark eyes glittering with leashed violence.

  Her heart slammed against her rib cage. “Brandon,” she croaked.

  His jaw hardened. “I need to talk to you.”

  Dominic scowled, rising from his chair. “Hold up—”

  “Sit the fuck down.” Brandon’s words were growled low—a deadly warning that made Dominic hesitate.

  Tamia glanced around the restaurant, meeting the blatantly curious stares of several other diners. She had an unpleasant flashback to the day she’d gotten into a fistfight with Dominic’s wife at a coffee shop. Now that she was trying to rehabilitate her image, getting banned from another establishment was the last thing she wanted or needed.

  “It’s okay,” she mumbled to Dominic.

  He frowned. “Tamia—”

  “No, really. I don’t want to cause a scene.”

  Glaring at Brandon, Dominic reluctantly sat back down.

  Tamia had barely wiped her mouth on her napkin before Brandon grasped her upper arm and helped her from her chair. Her face burned with embarrassment as he steered her through the crowded restaurant. Once they were outside, he wordlessly handed his ticket to the parking attendant.

  Tamia swallowed hard. “Brandon—”

  He rounded furiously on her. “What the hell are you doing?”

  She stared at him. “Excuse me?”

  “What the hell are you doing here with that muthafucka?”

  She lifted a defiant chin. “Not that it’s any of your business—”

  “What? WHAT?”

  Tamia darted a nervous glance at the parking attendant, who was pretending not to watch them.

  She shook her head at Brandon. “This really isn’t the time or place—”

  Grabbing her hand, he dragged her to the farthest end of the canopied entrance.

  As they turned to face each other, Tamia couldn’t help admiring the delicious perfection of his dark skin . . . the succulent fullness of his lips caressed by a manicured goatee . . . the broad expanse of his shoulders and strong chest. He looked absolutely amazing in his bespoke charcoal suit, one of five he’d had custom-tailored during their trip to Italy.

  God, how she wished they could go back there and never l
eave.

  “For the last time,” Brandon growled, cold fury lacing his tone, “what are you doing here with Dominic?”

  “We’re having lunch,” Tamia said evenly.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t owe you an explana—”

  “Goddamn it, Tamia!” Brandon exploded, pushing his face into hers. “After everything that lowlife muthafucka did to you, do you honestly think you can trust him? Can’t you see he’s just trying to come between us again?”

  Tamia stared at him. “There is no us.”

  Brandon flinched, pain darkening his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he rubbed a shaky hand over his clenched jaw.

  Tamia wanted to cry. Her throat ached from the effort of holding back the tears.

  Shaking his head at her, Brandon whispered, “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what, Brandon? Moving on with my life? What else am I supposed to do? Huh? What else am I supposed to do?”

  “Not with him, Tamia. Not with him.”

  She sneered. “Is that all you care about? Not losing me to your hated rival? Is that all I am to you—a fucking pawn on some chessboard?”

  “NO!” Brandon roared, urgently grabbing her face between his hands. “You know good and damn well you mean more to me than that!”

  “What I know, Brandon, is that you’re marrying another woman and having a child with her!”

  “But you’re the one I want, damn it!”

  At that moment his shiny black Maybach rolled to the curb, rims gleaming. As the valet climbed out of the vehicle, Brandon marched over, yanked open the passenger door, and glared at Tamia.

  “Get in the car,” he commanded.

  “What?” she sputtered. “Why?”

  “We need to go for a ride and talk.”

  Tamia shook her head. “We have nothing to talk about.”

  “The hell we don’t,” Brandon growled. “Get in the car.”

  “No.”

  “GET IN THE FUCKING CAR, TAMIA!”

  She gaped at him. “What part of ‘no’ did you not understand? I’m not going anywhere with you! I was in the middle of having lunch when you interrupted, so if you don’t mind—”

  “I do mind,” Brandon snarled, slamming the car door and stalking back toward her. “I mind very much.”

  Tamia stood her ground as he advanced on her, bringing their faces so close together that their breath mingled and their body heat electrified the air between them.

  Tamia swallowed tightly. “You’re causing a scene, Brandon.”

  His eyes flashed. “You think I give a fuck?”

  “You should. Everyone inside this building knows who you are. You have an image to uphold, a name to protect.”

  “Fuck all that,” Brandon growled.

  Tamia smiled bitterly. “We both know you don’t have that luxury.”

  He clenched his jaw, his pupils nearly black as he stared into her eyes.

  She stared back, heart hammering violently. “Let me go, Brandon,” she whispered.

  “I can’t do that.”

  “You have to.”

  He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, nostrils flaring. “I want you to stay the hell away from Dominic.”

  “That’s not your call to make anymore.”

  “Damn it, Tamia—”

  “Mr. Chambers?”

  “What?” Brandon snapped, turning to glare at the parking attendant, who’d left his station and walked over to them.

  The man gulped nervously. “Sorry to interrupt, sir, but we need to clear the driveway. If you’d like to have your car reparked—”

  “No,” Brandon bit off tersely. “I’m leaving.”

  As the relieved man backed away, Brandon gave Tamia a dark look that clearly said: This ain’t over.

  Her heart thudding, she watched as he spun on his heel and stalked over to his car at the curb. After shooting her one last glare, he ducked behind the wheel, slammed the door, and roared off.

  Inhaling a shaky breath, Tamia made her way back inside the restaurant on legs that felt like melted rubber.

  Dominic stood as she returned to the table and sat down.

  “Are you okay?” he asked her.

  Tamia nodded, taking a long sip of wine to calm her rattled nerves.

  Dominic shook his head at her. “Your boy’s losing it.”

  Tamia said nothing.

  “Didn’t I tell you he’d go crazy when he saw us together?” Dominic’s eyes gleamed with amused satisfaction. “You might get him back even sooner than we thought.”

  Tamia calmly picked up her fork and cut into her mahi mahi. “Tell me more about the couple with the bed-and-breakfast. The Ehrlichs, right?”

  Heeding her unspoken request to change the subject, Dominic began discussing her potential client. But as his deep voice droned on and on, all Tamia could think about was the dangerous look in Brandon’s eyes before he’d left her.

  She knew she hadn’t seen the last of him.

  And for the first time since their breakup, she didn’t know whether that was good or bad.

  Chapter 12

  Tamia

  The confrontation with Brandon haunted Tamia for the rest of the day.

  As she showered and shampooed her hair that evening, she mentally replayed what had happened at the restaurant.

  What gave Brandon Chambers the fucking right to be angry? He was the one who’d wasted no time hooking up with Cynthia after he and Tamia broke up. He was the one who’d been playing house with her while Tamia was behind bars, wondering if she’d ever taste freedom again. He was the one who’d been careless enough to get Cynthia pregnant. And he was the one who’d agreed to marry her!

  Yet he had the nerve to be outraged when he saw her and Dominic together?

  He had the audacity to tell her who to stay away from?

  The more Tamia reflected on Brandon’s behavior, the madder she became.

  Lifting her face to the hot spray of water, she vigorously scrubbed her scalp. After rinsing the fragrant shampoo from her hair, she twisted off the water faucet and stepped out of the steamy glass stall. She toweled herself off, then stalked into the bedroom.

  Suddenly the doorbell rang.

  She froze, pulse thudding.

  She wasn’t expecting company.

  So there was only one person who could be at her door at this hour of the night.

  Heart hammering, she yanked on a terrycloth robe and marched to the front door, her bare feet leaving damp footprints on the wood floor.

  She unlocked the front door and jerked it open.

  Brandon stood there, his tie hanging crookedly around his neck and his shirttail tugged from his suit pants. His eyes were black with fury and torment.

  “What the hell do you want?” Tamia demanded.

  Without a word he barged inside, forcing her backward.

  She slapped him across the face, needing to strike the first blow.

  With a feral growl, he grabbed her face between his hands and kissed her hard, bruising her lips.

  She shoved and clawed at his chest—half blind with rage, lust, and anguish.

  Kicking the door shut behind him, Brandon wrapped his arms around her, pinning her hands against his chest so she couldn’t move or escape.

  Water dripped from her hair and slid into their joined mouths to make the kiss even wetter. Hotter.

  She could feel her blood roaring in her ears, her heart thundering in her chest.

  Roughly breaking the kiss, Brandon ripped the robe from her body and dropped to his knees. As he lifted her against the wall, she threw her legs around his neck, crying out as he crushed his mouth to her pussy.

  He licked her slick folds, each scorching stroke of his tongue making her shiver and gasp his name. As he gently bit her clit, she mewled and grabbed the back of his head.

  He sucked the swollen lips of her labia, then stabbed his tongue hotly into her pussy.

  She screamed as she erupted, her toes curling until they cr
amped.

  Brandon lapped up her creamy come, bringing her to another hard, shuddering orgasm that nearly reduced her to tears.

  She’d barely unwrapped her shaky legs from around his neck when he surged to his feet and lifted her higher against the wall, knocking a painting loose. It crashed to the floor, a casualty that went unnoticed as Brandon seized her wrists and pinned them above her head.

  “You bastard,” Tamia hissed at him. “Let me g—”

  His mouth slammed down on hers, smothering the rest of her demand.

  She bit his lip hard, drawing blood.

  Swearing hoarsely, he reached down with one hand and impatiently unzipped his pants. His dick sprang free, outrageously long and thick, the curved head glistening wetly with pre-come.

  Brandon fisted himself, stroking upward then down.

  Tamia whimpered, clit throbbing.

  “Still want me to go?”

  He knew she didn’t. “Fuck you!”

  His eyes flashed. “I intend to.”

  As he pinned her against the wall, she locked her legs around his waist. Cupping the underside of her butt cheeks, he guided his shaft between the saturated folds of her sex and plunged into her.

  Tamia wailed with pleasure as her pussy clenched around his dick, gripping him so tightly that he groaned, the sound both tortured and erotic.

  Staring into her eyes, he began rocking against her, the muscles of his ass flexing furiously.

  There was no finesse. No gentle thrusting or stroking. The way he fucked her was raw and primal, as if his very salvation depended on how far and deep he could lose himself inside her.

  Gazing into her eyes like he could see into her wounded soul, he whispered fiercely, “You belong to me.”

  “No—”

  “YES, YOU DO,” he thundered. “You belong to me, Tamia. And you always will—no matter fucking what!”

  She squeezed her eyes shut as tears coursed down her face. Tears of denial that bled into tears of defeat. He was right. She would always love him, would always want him. Knowing she could never have him was unbearable.

  She moaned and sobbed helplessly as he rammed his dick in and out of her, making her completely his.

  Seconds later they exploded, one right after the other.

  They screamed each other’s names as Brandon’s cock pumped furiously, his come scalding her insides. Her body clenched tightly as he shot his load, groaning harshly as he emptied every ounce of semen into her.