Betrayal

by Naomi Chase

  “Let me take you out to dinner to celebrate.”

  Tamia lifted her eyes to Dominic’s. “I can’t. Not tonight.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have plans,” she lied.

  “Cancel them.”

  Tamia laughed. “I don’t think so,” she said, pressing the elevator call button. “And I’m not spending the weekend with you, either. Nice try, though.”

  Dominic chuckled. “I thought it was a good idea. So did the Ehrlichs.”

  “Guess you all thought wrong.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.” Dominic watched as she backed into the elevator and pushed the button for the lobby. “If you change your mind about dinner, you know how to reach me.”

  “I do,” Tamia drawled. “But I won’t need to.”

  Dominic smiled, holding her gaze. “You never know.”

  As the elevator doors closed, Tamia found herself smiling.

  For the first time ever, she wondered what would have happened if she and Dominic had met under different circumstances. If he hadn’t been married, and if he hadn’t blackmailed her for sex, could things have worked out between them?

  Could she have fallen in love with him?

  Dangerous thoughts, Tamia. Dangerous and foolish.

  Chapter 17

  Brandon

  The lunch crowd was in full swing when Brandon sauntered through the doors of Stogie’s that afternoon. The mahogany bar and tables were occupied by men in shirtsleeves trading raucous banter while Sinatra crooned “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” in the background. The atmosphere was jovial and relaxed . . . except at the corner booth, where Dre sat brooding over a glass of cognac.

  Brandon slid into the plush leather seat across from him. “Wassup.”

  “Yo,” Dre mumbled, lifting his troubled gaze from his drink. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

  “I was with a client when you called. Our meeting ran over.”

  Dre regarded him suspiciously. “You sure about that?”

  Brandon frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I don’t know, man. Seems like you’ve been avoiding me lately. The other night you left Ma’s house before I even got there—”

  “I told you something came up with Cynthia,” Brandon lied.

  “You told my voice mail,” Dre corrected. “And you left the message the next day when you knew I’d be at football practice, like you didn’t wanna talk to me directly. Since then you’ve been ignoring my calls—”

  Brandon forced out a laugh. “Dude, you sound like my bitch or something.”

  Dre scowled. “I’m just saying. Where’d you disappear to?”

  “Nowhere, man, so quit girlin’. I have no reason to avoid you.” Other than the fact that your mother tried to seduce me, which fucked up my mind for a few days.

  Dre silently assessed him another moment, then shook his head and gulped down some of his drink.

  Brandon was more than relieved when the waiter materialized, grinning broadly as he greeted Brandon by name and took his order: a neat scotch and a rib-eye steak with mashed potatoes.

  “Nothing for me,” Dre told the waiter, drawing a surprised look from Brandon.

  “What’s up with you?” he demanded as soon as the server left. “You call and ask me to meet you downstairs for lunch, but you’re not eating?”

  “I’m not hungry,” Dre muttered.

  Brandon narrowed his eyes, studying his friend across the table. Suddenly remembering that Dre had wanted to ask his advice about something, he felt a sharp stab of guilt. He’d been so caught up in his own problems—with Tamia, Cynthia, and Renay Portis—that he’d left his best friend out in the cold.

  Feeling like a selfish asshole, Brandon did the only thing he could: apologize.

  “I’m sorry for not getting back to you sooner, bruh. I’ve been dealing with a lot of shit lately, but that’s no excuse for ghosting on you. I’m really sorry for that, but I’m here now. So what did you want to talk to me about?”

  Dre scrubbed a hand over his face and pushed out a heavy breath. “I don’t even know how to say it. I’m still in shock.”

  Brandon felt himself leaning forward intently. “What’s going on, man?”

  “It’s Fiona.” Dre paused, swallowing visibly. “She’s pregnant.”

  Brandon’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

  Dre scowled. “You think I’d kid about something like this?”

  Brandon stared at him. “You got Fiona pregnant?”

  “Apparently so.”

  Brandon leaned back slowly against the seat, shaking his head in stunned disbelief. “How did you find out?”

  “Tamia came to see me on Monday.” Dre’s lips twisted grimly. “She threatened to come after my ass if I don’t get in touch with Fiona by the end of the week.”

  Just then the waiter appeared, bringing Brandon’s drink.

  He downed the scotch in one burning swallow, then ordered another one before returning his attention to Dre. “So what’re you gonna do?”

  “I don’t know, man,” Dre mumbled, passing a trembling hand over his head. “This is the last fucking thing I need. Fiona’s a psychotic killer facing life in prison. I can’t be having no damn kids with her crazy ass. And there’s no way in hell Leah will take me back if she finds out about this.”

  Brandon grimaced. “That’s probably a safe assumption.”

  Dre shook his head. “Fiona can’t have that baby.”

  “Are you gonna ask her to get an abortion?”

  “Hell, yeah.” Dre stared anxiously at Brandon. “She can do that, right? Inmates can get abortions, can’t they?”

  “Legally, yes. But the judge might want to have Fiona evaluated to determine whether she’s mentally stable enough to make the decision to end her pregnancy.”

  “What? She ain’t mentally stable enough to be having a baby!”

  “Maybe not,” Brandon grimly agreed. “But just remember that we’re in Texas, which is full of pro-life judges who’d force a woman to have a baby but wouldn’t bat an eye at sending a man to the death chamber.”

  Dre looked stricken. “So what you’re telling me is that Fiona might have to keep the baby?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Shit!” Dre covered his face with his hands and groaned. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  A grim smile curved Brandon’s mouth. “Looks like we’re both gonna be fathers.”

  Dre snorted bitterly. “At least your baby mama isn’t a homicidal maniac. At least you can marry her and have a normal life with her.”

  Normalcy is overrated, Brandon thought morosely.

  Sipping from his second glass of scotch, he glanced around the crowded restaurant. He spied one of his colleagues sitting at the bar with a group of guys who worked for an investment firm located three floors below Chernoff, Dewitt & Strathmore. Addison Vassar was one of the few female attorneys who enjoyed hanging out at the former cigar club, and it was no secret why. She was always on the prowl for fresh meat—what better hunting ground than a man cave like Stogie’s?

  Brandon absently watched as the guy seated next to Addison leaned over to whisper something in her ear. She tossed back her dark hair and laughed—a wicked, bawdy laugh that turned several heads.

  Catching Brandon’s eye, Addison winked and smiled flirtatiously.

  He nodded briefly before returning his attention to Dre, who looked more miserable by the minute as he bemoaned his fate.

  “This wasn’t supposed to go down like this. I mean, this is the kinda shit that happens to Shavar, not me.”

  Dre’s half brother, Shavar Portis, was a maintenance worker who had more baby mamas than Brandon could count. He was only a few months younger than Dre because their father had been messing around with their mothers at the same time, continuing the affair even after he’d married Renay. While Shavar saw nothing wrong with spreading his seed, Dre had vowed to break the cycle of
breeding illegitimate children.

  So much for that.

  “I don’t know how I’m gonna break this news to my mom,” Dre fretted. “She wants grandkids but not like this. She’s gonna lose her damn mind over this shit.”

  Based on her recent behavior, Brandon was convinced that Renay Portis had already lost her mind. But of course he kept that thought to himself.

  “How the hell am I supposed to raise a child on my own?” Dre wondered aloud. “I’ve got a busy career. I’m on the road all the time with the team—”

  “You wouldn’t be the first single parent that ever lived,” Brandon wryly pointed out.

  “I know that,” Dre snapped. “But this isn’t how I envisioned becoming a father.”

  Brandon lost his patience. “Look, man, I’m hearing a lot of anger, blame, and self-pity, and I feel for you. Really, I do. But the bottom line is that you fucked up. Not only did you cheat on your girlfriend, but you apparently had unprotected sex with Fiona. If you didn’t wanna take any risks, you shoulda wrapped that shit up. But you didn’t, so now you gotta deal with the consequences.”

  Dre scowled. “I know you ain’t sitting over there lecturing nobody about practicing safe sex.”

  “Get the fuck outta here,” Brandon scoffed derisively. “At least I was in a relationship with the woman I got pregnant, and the one and only time I didn’t wear a condom was after she started taking the pill. And last I checked, bruh, I’m handling my business. So I suggest you man up and do the same.”

  Dre dropped his eyes to the table, looking sullen and shamefaced.

  Several tense moments passed.

  “I guess I had that coming,” Dre grumbled. “I’ve never pulled punches with you, so why should I expect to be treated any differently when I’ve fucked up?”

  “You know how we do, man. Straight talk, no chaser.”

  Dre nodded slowly, glancing around the restaurant as if he’d forgotten where he was. After another moment, he heaved a resigned breath and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I need to talk to Fiona, work this out with her.”

  “You do that.”

  Dre nodded again, looking like he had something else on his mind.

  Brandon waited.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask. . . Has Cynthia talked to Leah recently? I figure since they’re friends, Cynthia would know what’s going on with her. Has she mentioned anything to you?”

  “No, but I wouldn’t expect her to,” Brandon admitted. “You’re my best friend, so Cynthia probably assumes I’d take your side.”

  Dre snorted. “Little does she know.” He drained the rest of his cognac, then signaled for the waiter. “I’ma get something to eat.”

  “Good,” Brandon retorted, “ ’cause I ain’t sharing none of my food with your greedy black ass.”

  They both laughed.

  Chapter 18

  Tamia

  Tamia tilted her head to one side, surveying her reflection in the dressing room mirror. She wore a strapless red Versace gown that clung to her curves and had a plunging back and a deep slit.

  She did a slow turn, inspecting herself from every angle.

  She knew she looked fierce, but she wanted a second opinion.

  Padding across the small dressing room, she peeked out at Brandon. He was lounging in a chair nearby, patiently waiting for her to finish trying on the dress. She watched his long fingers slide across his smartphone as he scrolled through photos he’d taken since their arrival in Venice. Photos of historic churches and palaces, rare paintings and sculptures, scenic bridges and waterways, gondolas drifting lazily down the Grand Canal.

  And photos of Tamia, laughing and carefree as she twirled in playful circles and blew kisses at him.

  She smiled now, watching him another moment before stepping out of the dressing room.

  He lifted his head. And went completely still.

  Her skin heated as he slowly looked her up and down, his dark eyes glittering with admiration.

  “Well?” she purred, striking a seductive pose with the gown split up to her thigh. “What do you think?”

  Brandon rose from the chair. “I think you look good enough to eat,” he drawled. “Which is all I wanna do right now.”

  “Brandon!” she gasped, blushing.

  One of the Italian saleswomen hid a grin behind her hand as Brandon sauntered toward Tamia.

  As she turned to escape, he caught her around the waist and pulled her back against his body. She smiled demurely as he slid his arms around her and whispered in her ear, “You look absolutely stunning in this dress, but I wanna peel it off you and lick you inside out.”

  She shivered, nipples hardening with arousal. “You can’t do that here.”

  “Says who?”

  She closed her eyes as his warm lips nuzzled the sensitive skin behind her ear. “You must be trying to get us kicked out of this store,” she breathed.

  “If that’s what it takes to get us back to the hotel, then yeah.”

  She grinned weakly. “We can’t go back yet. We haven’t finished shopping.”

  “We can finish later.”

  “But—”

  He was already steering her toward the dressing room.

  No one stopped him as he followed her inside and closed the curtain behind them.

  No one interrupted as he lowered her to the velvet bench, knelt between her legs, pushed her gown and panties out of the way, and slid his tongue into her pussy.

  And when they emerged fifteen minutes later and Brandon whipped out his platinum card to pay for the twenty-thousand-dollar dress, no one—absolutely no one—complained.

  “Hello? Earth to Tamia.”

  Snapped out of her reverie, Tamia gave Honey a blank look. “Sorry. Did you say something?”

  Honey laughed. “I was asking if you plan to try on that dress or stare at it all night.”

  Tamia glanced down at the red satin sheath in her hand. “I don’t want it,” she murmured, returning the dress to the rack.

  Honey eyed her curiously. She was a voluptuous young beauty with a golden complexion and a glamorous weave that flowed down her back. She’d been a rising star in the underground porn industry when Lou was forced to sell his film studio, and now she was one of his most popular escorts, commanding a thousand-dollar hourly rate.

  “Are you okay?” she asked Tamia.

  Tamia forced a smile. “I’m fine. Why?”

  Honey frowned. “You had a faraway look in your eyes when you were staring at that dress.”

  Tamia shrugged. “I was just thinking about something.”

  “Or someone,” Honey said knowingly.

  Tamia pretended not to hear her as she circled another rack of clothes, her fingers wandering over designer frocks without making another selection.

  To celebrate landing her first client, she’d invited Honey to meet her at the Galleria for an afternoon of shopping. Their arms were laden with bags by the time they’d headed into Neiman Marcus, vowing that this would be their last stop before they went to dinner.

  Honey followed Tamia. “I know you were thinking about Brandon. He’s been on your mind all day.”

  “How do you know?” Tamia mumbled.

  “Girl, please. You don’t think I saw the way you were admiring those badass loafers in the Louis Vuitton store? And please don’t tell me you were thinking about buying a pair of men’s shoes for yourself.”

  Tamia said nothing.

  “I didn’t think so.” Honey popped her gum. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t go to the courthouse that day to stop Brandon and Cynthia’s wedding. That’s what I woulda done, ’cause there’s no way I’d have let that fine-ass brotha marry another woman.”

  “He hasn’t married her yet,” Tamia sourly reminded Honey. “And do I look like Dwayne Wayne to you?”

  Honey frowned. “Dwyane Wade?”

  “No, Dwayne Wayne from A Different World. He crashed Whitley’s wedding to stop her from marrying—Oh, never
mind,” Tamia broke off in exasperation. “I keep forgetting how young you are. Or how young I suspect you are, since you won’t tell me your age.”

  Honey grinned unabashedly. “Don’t change the subject. We were talking about you and Brandon.”

  Tamia sighed. “There is no me and Brandon.”

  “Which is a damn shame. Everyone knows you two belong together.”

  “Not everyone. Brandon apparently didn’t get the memo.”

  “Oh, trust, he got it,” Honey affirmed. “That brotha loves you, which he more than proved during your trial. Seriously, Tamia. I don’t know any other man who would have risked public humiliation by defending the woman who’d cheated on him. Sorry,” she added when Tamia winced. “Not trying to hurt you, boo. Just keeping it real. Brandon put his reputation and his pride on the line when he decided to represent you. He knew haters would call him a pussy-whipped fool, but he didn’t care. All that mattered to him was keeping you out of prison. Unfortunately for you, he’s a standup guy who wants to be everybody’s hero. If Cynthia wasn’t pregnant and if his father wasn’t running for governor, you know he’d be with you. You’re the love of his life, Tamia, and nothing’s gonna change that.”

  Tamia swallowed tightly as Honey’s words brought tears to her eyes.

  “I hate seeing you like this, Tamia,” Honey said gently. “You’re my girl, and I want you to be happy.”

  Tamia dabbed at her eyes. “You know what would make me happy? If we could stop talking about Brandon. I’m really trying to move on, but it’s hard to do that when everyone keeps rehashing what went wrong between us.”

  Honey grimaced. “I’m sorry. I should have realized I was only making things worse.”

  “Not worse. Just . . . not better.” Tamia sifted disinterestedly through a row of pleated skirts, then sighed. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you that Beau Chambers asked about you.”

  Honey perked up. “Brandon’s brother?”

  Tamia nodded. “He asked me who you were when I ran into him the other day. He remembered seeing you with me that night at the wellness center when Bishop Yarbrough showed up.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Honey murmured.

  “He wants to meet you, so he invited us to a fundraiser banquet they’re having.”