by Naomi Chase
“Glitch,” he murmured by way of explanation.
Cynthia twisted her lips, giving him the side eye.
He reluctantly clicked off the photo, turned off the phone, and stuffed it back into his pocket. As the rabbi finished speaking, Brandon grabbed his glass and downed the rest of his mimosa, wishing it were Johnnie Walker.
Before long, Bishop Yarbrough was at the podium waxing eloquent about his friendship with Bernard Chambers. Then it was Brandon’s turn to get up there and address the crowd before he introduced his father as the keynote speaker.
Standing at the podium, he spoke from his heart about the man who’d raised him. He described a relentless taskmaster who’d demanded excellence from him and pushed him to be the best, because all the money in the world could only take a black man so far. He fondly reminisced about sneaking into his father’s study at night and climbing into his lap to hear stories about the ancestors who’d come before him. He called Bernard the guardian of the Chamber legacy, the anchor of his family, a faithful husband and a devoted father. He talked about his accomplishments as lieutenant governor, and he spoke passionately of Bernard’s vision for unifying the people of Texas and leading them into an era of unprecedented economic prosperity.
Brandon delivered the speech without notes because the words were pouring out of him, springing from a well of deep conviction.
By the time he introduced his father, the audience was on its feet cheering and clapping loudly, his mother was dabbing tears from her eyes, and Cynthia was beaming from ear to ear. Even Beau and Brooke were visibly moved.
Bernard strode toward Brandon with a broad smile on his face, his eyes glowing with pride and adoration. As he and Brandon shared a strong hug, Bernard whispered in his ear, “Don’t think all this excitement is for me. You’re a natural, son. You had them eating out of the palm of your hand.”
Brandon merely smiled.
But then his father took to the podium and exhorted, “How about another round of applause for my wonderful son?”
The applause was thunderous. Almost deafening.
As Brandon looked out into the sea of smiling faces, he felt somewhat dazed.
His father winked at him. Told you, he mouthed.
Brandon couldn’t get off the stage fast enough.
Chapter 22
Tamia
Tamia sat at the foot of the guest bed with her gaze riveted to the television, where Brandon had just ended his electrifying speech. Her heart was thumping, and her skin was covered with goose bumps beneath her robe.
She’d always known what a gifted orator Brandon was. She’d watched him deliver masterful closing arguments in court, including the one that had sealed her acquittal.
Last year she’d accompanied him to a glitzy bar association function where he’d given the best presentation of the night.
She knew he had the chops to wow a crowd.
But this speech had been on a whole different level.
It was the kind of speech that launched political careers and catapulted one onto the national stage.
Brandon had always insisted that he didn’t share his father’s political aspirations. But after his performance this morning, it was blindingly obvious to Tamia that he was born to serve in a leadership capacity that went far beyond biglaw.
She watched as the camera panned away from the podium to show Brandon returning to his table. Cynthia stood waiting for him in her silk shift dress that perfectly matched the color of his tie. As he reached her, she threw her arms around his neck and smooched him on the lips.
Tamia had seen enough.
Grabbing the remote control, she punched off the television just as a gentle knock sounded on the door.
“Tamia?” Shanell called tentatively. “You up?”
“Yeah,” she mumbled.
Shanell slowly opened the door and poked her head into the room. Noting Tamia’s gloomy expression and the remote control clutched in her hand, she put two and two together and sighed. “You saw the speech.”
Tamia nodded.
“Damn. I was hoping you’d missed it.” Shanell heaved another sigh. “It was hella good, wasn’t it?”
“It was.” A faint smile touched Tamia’s mouth. “Brandon’s always had a complicated relationship with his father, but I know he meant every word he said about him.”
“I could definitely tell. If his father didn’t already have my vote, that speech sure as hell would have sold me.” Shanell smiled, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned on the doorjamb. She wore a satin bonnet, one of her husband’s army T-shirts, and gray leggings.
“I was just about to make breakfast. Got any requests?”
“Nah, girl. I’m not even hungry.” Tamia pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her chin on her knees, absently studying the French pedicure she and Shanell had gotten yesterday while they’d been out running errands and doing last-minute Christmas shopping.
“Did you sleep okay?” Shanell asked.
Tamia nodded. “Better than I did the first night.” Thoughts of the disturbing note had kept her awake and on edge, her mind churning out an endless loop of questions and theories.
Officer Greene had called yesterday to tell her that he and his partner were still reviewing the security tapes from the building, but so far they had no leads. He’d promised to give her another call after they questioned Lester McCray.
“Mark and I are going to Sam’s Club after breakfast,” Shanell announced. “Do you want anything?”
“No, thanks.” Tamia hesitated. “Actually, I was thinking about heading back home.”
Shanell frowned. “Why? You got a problem with my accommodations?”
Tamia laughed. “Stop it. You know there’s nothing wrong with your house. Or have you forgotten that I pretended to live here while I was dating Brandon?”
Shanell snorted. “As if I could ever forget. You had me parking in the garage and hiding family pictures every time he came over. It’s a miracle we were able to keep up that crazy charade for as long as we did. Anyway, you don’t need to be going back to your apartment, not while some lunatic is out there sending you threatening notes.”
Tamia sighed. “But I told you I don’t want to impose. You need to be getting ready for your parents—”
“Girl, please. You act like I’m hosting Barack and Michelle. It’s just my parents. They’ve been here before—they know their way around the house and they know how to ask for whatever they need. Now stop talking about leaving, put on some damn clothes, and come help me make breakfast.”
With that, Shanell left, shutting the door behind her.
Shaking her head in amused exasperation, Tamia slid off the bed and trudged toward the adjoining bathroom to brush her teeth. She’d just reached the doorway when her phone rang from the nightstand.
She turned and hurried back across the room to catch the call, anxious for another update from Officer Greene or Castillo.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Good morning,” drawled a deep voice. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”
Her pulse tripped.
Dominic.
“No. I was already awake.” Tamia sat on the bed. “What’s up?”
“I wanted to know if you’d had a chance to reconsider my invitation.”
“What invitation?”
“To spend the weekend at the Ehrlichs’ B and B. Remember, I suggested going undercover as a couple to find out what the other guests really think of the place?”
“I remember,” Tamia said dryly. “I also remember turning you down.”
Dominic chuckled. “I was hoping you’d had a change of heart. So are Buddy and Grace. They’re even holding a suite for us.”
Tamia guffawed. “They are not.”
“Are, too. They liked my suggestion, and they really want you to experience the place for yourself.”
Tamia bit her lower lip, wavering.
“Come on, Tamia,” Dominic softly cajoled. “You s
aw the pictures. Beautiful rooms, scenic views. You can go to the spa and get a massage, or take a relaxing dip in the heated pool. . . .”
Tamia couldn’t deny that the offer sounded tempting. And getting away for the weekend would help take her mind off her troubles.
Or make them worse.
She frowned at the thought. “If I agree to go—and that’s a big if—we can’t share the same bed. You can have the sofa or the floor, I don’t care. But you’re not sleeping with me, Dominic. I’m serious. Those days are over.”
He fell silent.
Tamia waited, eyes narrowed.
“All right,” he acquiesced with obvious reluctance. “We don’t have to share a bed if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t want to.” Her tone was emphatic.
“As you wish. Should I tell the Ehrlichs to expect us?”
Tamia hesitated, closing her eyes. Her mind flashed on an image of Cynthia looking like the proud wifey as she’d kissed Brandon after his speech.
Brandon was going places, and Cynthia was the lucky woman who would accompany him on his journey.
“Tamia?” Dominic prompted.
She inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes. Tell them we’re coming.”
“Wonderful.” Dominic sounded beyond pleased. “I’ll pick you up in two hours.”
Tamia didn’t tell Shanell where she was going.
She knew her friend wouldn’t approve, and she didn’t feel like hearing a damn lecture. So she waited until Shanell and Mark left the house before she made her escape, leaving a note explaining that she had to help Honey with a personal emergency.
When she pulled into the parking garage at her apartment building, Dominic was already waiting for her, chilling behind the wheel of a pewter Rolls Royce Phantom. Tamia felt decidedly self-conscious as she parked her old Honda Accord near the five-hundred-thousand-dollar whip.
She climbed out of her car and watched as Dominic stretched from the Phantom and sauntered toward her. He wore a chocolate leather bomber, khaki trousers, and Ralph Lauren boots. His fade was smooth and tight, and his goatee was freshly sculpted.
He looked so fine and sexy that Tamia’s mouth watered. Damn, damn, damn!
“Hello,” Dominic drawled, stopping before her. “I was afraid you got cold feet.”
Tamia swallowed hard, suddenly feeling as nervous as a virgin on her first date. “Sorry. I was over at a friend’s house.”
“Do you need to run upstairs and pack?”
“No. I’m ready.”
Dominic smiled, his heavy-lidded eyes roaming over her. She wore a short fitted jacket over a V-neck sweater, skintight jeans, and peep-toe suede ankle boots.
As Dominic completed his slow perusal of her body and licked his lips, her nipples hardened.
Nothing had changed. He turned her on as much today as he had the day she’d met him. What made it even worse was that she knew what the man was working with. She knew what he could do to her with the sensual stroke of his tongue, the deep thrust of his dick.
She knew he could have her whipped all over again.
Be strong, Tamia. Keep your pussy on lock no matter what!
“Ready to go?” Dominic murmured.
She nodded, turning away to pop the trunk of her car.
Dominic transferred her small suitcase to the trunk of the Phantom, then opened the passenger door for her.
Sliding into the luxury vehicle was like slipping into a mink coat. Tamia couldn’t help admiring the sumptuous leather seats, decadent wood trim, art deco lighting, and fancy navigation system. She felt the same sense of wonder every time she rode in Brandon’s Maybach.
Dominic climbed behind the wheel and slanted her a lazy smile. “This is a first.”
“What?”
“You’ve never been inside my car before.”
Tamia shook her head slowly. “You’re right. I haven’t.”
She’d always met him at his penthouse for their secret trysts. They’d never gone on any dates and had rarely been seen together in public. Their St. Croix rendezvous had been a complete disaster even before his wife caught them fucking in their hotel room shower.
Tamia grimaced, her face heating with shame at the memory.
“We’re gonna have fun this weekend,” Dominic told her, as if he’d read her mind. “I know we’ve got a lot of baggage between us, but I don’t want you thinking about that. Just relax and enjoy yourself.”
Easier said than done, Tamia thought, sending him a wry look. “Weren’t we supposed to wear disguises so no one will recognize us?”
He nodded. “Got it covered. I brought Afro wigs, psychedelic glasses, and a fake mustache for me to wear.”
Tamia laughed. “You did not!”
“Nah, I didn’t.” Dominic grinned at her. “No one seemed to recognize us at the restaurant the other day, so I figured we have a good shot at keeping our cover. But since we’re supposed to be an engaged couple—” He reached inside his leather jacket and pulled out a black velvet box.
Tamia stilled, watching as he removed a diamond engagement ring set in platinum. When he held it up, the princess-cut solitaire twinkled in the morning sunlight.
Her stunned gaze swung from the ring to Dominic’s face. “What . . . how . . .” She trailed off, at a loss for words.
Dominic smiled. “Give me your hand.”
“Why?”
“So I can put this ring on your finger.”
“What? Why?”
He gave her an amused look. “Because we’re supposed to be engaged, remember?”
Tamia gulped a shaky breath, then reluctantly eased her hand forward. Her pulse drummed as she watched Dominic slide the platinum band onto her finger.
He smiled with satisfaction. “Good. It fits.”
Tamia shook her head, staring incredulously at him. “I can’t believe you just strolled into a jewelry store and bought a diamond ring.”
He chuckled. “As opposed to what? Buying one from a gumball machine?”
“Seriously, Dominic. This ring had to cost tens of thousands—”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” he interjected, starting the ignition.
Tamia watched as he smoothly backed out of the parking space, steering the Phantom with a one-handed finesse that reminded her of the way Brandon drove.
“I realize you have money—”
Dominic gave a bark of laughter. “Damn, woman! Are you for real?”
“What?”
“You must be the only woman I know who’d have such a damn problem with receiving a ring from Tiffany. Aren’t diamonds supposed to be a girl’s best friend?”
Tamia smiled sheepishly. “Well, yeah, but—”
“But nothing. Yo, fo’ real, darlin’, you need to relax. Stop worrying ’bout how much the damn ring cost and just enjoy it. ’E look good an yo.”
She blinked at the Crucian dialect. “What?”
“The ring. It looks good on you.” He winked at her. “Tell me you don’t agree.”
Tamia could do no such thing.
“Uh-huh.” Dominic chuckled knowingly. “I thought so.”
Tamia grinned, admiring her new bling as she settled into her seat for the ninety-minute drive to the ranch.
As they left downtown and got on I-59, she noticed that they were heading in the wrong direction.
“Where are we going?” she asked Dominic.
“I need to make a stop first.”
“Where?”
He chuckled at her suspicious tone. “I wanted to check out some model homes in Sugar Land. It’s the only chance I’ll get before the end of the weekend.”
“I didn’t know you were looking for a new house,” Tamia remarked.
Dominic nodded. “I’ve been staying at the penthouse ever since Isabel died. I couldn’t go back to living at our house after . . .” He trailed off, his expression clouding.
Tamia lowered her gaze to her lap, awash with guilt and sorrow at the
reminder that her sister had murdered his wife.
As a heavy silence lapsed between them, she stared out the window.
“Anyway,” Dominic continued after a few minutes, “I wanted to see what’s on the market, and I could use a woman’s input. You don’t mind, do you?”
How could she?
“Not at all,” she murmured.
Dominic drove to Sugar Land, steering through a gated entrance to enter an exclusive subdivision that featured custom waterfront mansions.
The woman who greeted them at the door to the front office was all smiles. Because she’d seen them pull up in a Rolls, she naturally assumed that they could afford to buy a home in the upscale community.
She handed them a glossy brochure with her business card and cheerfully talked their heads off before they were saved by the arrival of new customers.
Dominic quickly ushered Tamia from the office, both of them laughing as they headed to the first model home.
The moment they stepped through the front door, Tamia’s eyes widened at the sight of a grand foyer with a winding staircase and a stunning glass sculpture suspended from the ceiling.
“Wow,” she breathed.
Dominic nodded, casually glancing around. “Nice.”
Tamia snorted incredulously. “Are you kidding me? Nice?”
He grinned at her. “Very nice.”
She laughed, impulsively grabbing his hand and leading him toward the gourmet kitchen, where they admired gleaming hardwood floors, marble countertops, ultramodern appliances, and custom cabinets.
On the second landing they entered a mammoth master bedroom suite with double chandeliers, a clotheshorse’s dream closet, and a humongous bathroom outfitted with travertine marble and a luxurious spa shower.
Dominic smiled indulgently as Tamia squealed and oohed and aahed over everything, unable to contain her excitement. This mansion was beyond anything she’d ever dreamed of owning—and she’d dreamed pretty big.
As she and Dominic wandered from one opulently furnished room to another, she couldn’t help fantasizing about what it would be like to call such a place home, to wake up every morning in the lap of such luxury.
And when she caught Dominic staring quietly at her, she found herself imagining that they lived there together . . . as husband and wife.
