Betrayal

by Naomi Chase

  “Hey, you told me I could decorate for the holidays.”

  “True, but I didn’t think you’d go overboard. A twenty-foot tree?”

  Tamia gave him an affronted look. “If you want me to take everything down—”

  Dominic grinned. “Nah, you know I’m only teasin’ you. I love the way you hooked up the place. It’s beautiful, got me in the holiday spirit.” He winked. “Just never figured my queen from da hood would have Martha Stewart tendencies.”

  Tamia blushed, shrugging a shoulder. “We couldn’t afford much when I was growing up. I always wanted a huge tree, stockings hung from the mantel, lights on the roof—the whole nine.” She grinned self-consciously. “I know that sounds corny.”

  “It doesn’t sound corny at all. I think it’s sweet.”

  Tamia gave him a shy smile, making him groan.

  “You stealin’ my heart, woman. Pullin’ it right outta my chest and makin’ it yours.”

  She laughed. “Um, okay.”

  When Dominic’s phone rang, he scooped it off the table and glanced at the display screen. “I gotta take this call. It’s business.”

  “Sure. Go ahead.”

  Tamia watched him slide out of the booth and saunter away with the phone pressed to his ear. As she picked up her glass and sipped her drink, her gaze wandered around the room before landing on the plasma television mounted above the bar. The channel was tuned to the local evening news.

  Without warning, there were Brandon and Cynthia, along with their parents, serving holiday meals to the needy from the kitchen of Joseph Yarbrough’s megachurch. It was the perfect photo op for the two family dynasties—the Chamberses and Yarbroughs.

  As Tamia watched the news segment, it was clear to her that Brandon was the only one who wasn’t performing for the cameras. As he interacted with the homeless, his smiles were full of genuine warmth, and his handshakes were firm and strong. But this came as no surprise to Tamia. She knew Brandon was the real deal. He mentored underserved boys through his friend Justin’s community organization, played basketball with reformed gang members, and donated generously to many charities. She remembered the times when they’d been on dates and he’d stopped to talk to panhandlers before he slipped them a large bill or escorted them somewhere to get a hot meal. Sometimes she’d been uneasy, and she’d cautioned him to be careful so he wouldn’t get taken advantage of. But he’d merely smile, shake his head, and remind her of the scripture, To whom much is given, much is required.

  Brandon’s generosity and complete lack of pretentiousness were among the many things Tamia had always loved and admired about him.

  But seeing him on television with Cynthia by his side hurt like a knife sliding between her ribs to puncture her aching heart.

  Returning to the booth, Dominic took one look at Tamia’s wounded expression, identified the source, then called toward the bar, “Yo, somebody turn dah channel.”

  The command was promptly obeyed.

  Dominic slid into the booth, this time sitting across from Tamia. “Sorry for keeping you waiting.”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “No problem. Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine. That was one of my clients. I told him I’d see him tomorrow night at the—”

  He was interrupted by the waitress, who brought the coconut rum cake to Tamia and winked at her. “Enjoy.”

  Tamia grinned. “Oh, I know I will.”

  She dug into the wet slice of cake, slid the fork into her mouth, and closed her eyes with an appreciative groan. “Oh my God . . .”

  “Good?”

  “ ‘Good’ doesn’t even come close.” Tamia ate another bite and moaned.

  “Damn, girl,” Dominic said thickly. “Watching you eat makes my dick hard.”

  Tamia choked out a laugh. “Dominic!”

  “What? I’m just speakin’ the truth. Don’t believe me? Just slide your foot under this table and feel how hard I am.”

  Unable to resist the wicked challenge, Tamia slipped off one of her high heels and slowly eased her foot into his lap. When she encountered the granite mound of his erection, her eyes widened.

  “Oh, my,” she breathed, biting her lip.

  His eyes gleamed. “Told you.”

  “Yes, you did.” She smiled coyly. “Here, let me give you something sweet to go with all that meat.”

  She fed him a bite of cake, watching his juicy lips close around the tines of the fork. As her pussy clenched, she rubbed her foot against his bulging shaft and licked her lips, watching him swallow.

  “Good?”

  “Delicious.” His nostrils flared. “Hurry up and finish so we can go home. I need to fuck you real good and hard.”

  “Mmm.” Tamia’s nipples tightened, heat spreading all over her body. “You certainly have a way with words, Mr. Archer.”

  “And you got a way with that tongue,” he rumbled, watching her lick creamy frosting from the fork. “If you had on a skirt I’d be under this table doing some serious licking of my own right now.”

  Tamia’s pussy pumped, leaking juices. “Okay, we’d better stop,” she whispered, removing her foot from Dominic’s crotch and fanning herself.

  He chuckled, leaning back against the leather cushions to watch as she demurely ate more cake.

  “I want you to go to the fundraiser gala with me tomorrow night.”

  Her eyes flew to his face in startled surprise. “What fundraiser gala?”

  Dominic looked amused. “The one you’re planning to attend with your friend Honey.”

  “Oh.” Tamia swallowed, shaking her head. “She can’t make it, so I’m not going either.”

  “I want you to go with me,” Dominic said smoothly. “I bought a ticket a few weeks ago—before they were sold out.”

  Tamia frowned. “Why would you want to go to the banquet?”

  He shrugged. “Some of my clients will be there, so it’ll be a great networking opportunity for me. For both of us, actually. Besides,” he added humorously, “it’s the biggest social event of the season. Haven’t you heard?”

  Tamia calmly ate another piece of cake. “I don’t want to go. And especially not with you.”

  “Why not?”

  She frowned at him. “Because Brandon will be there.”

  “And you don’t want him to see us together,” Dominic surmised. “Because you don’t want to hurt him.”

  Tamia nodded.

  “Let me tell you something about that. Brandon—” Dominic stopped himself, shaking his head and rubbing his goatee. “Never mind.”

  Tamia eyed him curiously. “What were you going to say?”

  “Forget it. I shouldn’t even have brought it up.”

  “Brought what up?”

  “Nothing. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to start something. Because I’m not.”

  Tamia frowned. “What are you talking about, Dominic?”

  He hesitated for a long moment, his eyes gently probing hers. “Remember the mayor’s fundraiser dinner back in April? The one Brandon attended without you?”

  Tamia’s expression darkened. She remembered the night she’d gone to Brandon’s office for a booty call and they’d ended up arguing after Cynthia casually mentioned that she’d see him at the fundraiser dinner. Tamia had known nothing about it because Brandon hadn’t wanted to introduce her to his parents, who would be at the event.

  “After I attended the dinner,” Dominic continued, “you asked me whether I saw Brandon and Cynthia there together, and I wouldn’t tell you.”

  Tamia stared at him, her breath lodged in her throat. Did she want to know? Did it make any difference at this point?

  Probably not, but . . .

  “Were they?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

  Dominic met her gaze and nodded grimly. “They were. I don’t know if they arrived in the same car or not, but they definitely spent the whole evening together. I know most people assumed they were a couple, and they seemed to be okay wi
th that. I didn’t tell you then because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

  “And now?” Tamia’s throat was tight. “Why are you telling me now?”

  Dominic’s expression softened. “Because you’re so concerned about not being seen with me to spare Brandon’s feelings, and I can’t help wondering why you keep giving him the same courtesy he never gave you.”

  Tamia stared down at the moist crumbs scattered across her plate.

  She felt hurt . . . betrayed.

  Maybe that had been Dominic’s intention. Maybe he was playing her for a damn fool by making up lies about Brandon.

  But if he was telling the truth . . .

  Calmly lifting her eyes to his, she announced with quiet resolve, “I’m wearing red.”

  A slow, approving smile spread across Dominic’s face. “As I’ve told you before, red is definitely your color.”

  Chapter 34

  Tamia

  Pinnacle Sports Group’s fundraiser gala was held in the grand ballroom of the ritziest luxury hotel downtown. The premier event was attended by a who’s who of powerful politicians, business leaders, philanthropists, entertainers, and professional athletes. The keynote speaker was Emmitt Smith, and VIP guests included Beyoncé and Jay-Z, who’d generously contributed to the five hundred thousand dollars’ worth of scholarships that would be awarded to several inner-city youth athletes.

  When Tamia and Dominic arrived, the ballroom was abuzz with glamorously dressed people laughing and socializing, posing for pictures, and giving interviews to reporters. White-gloved waiters wended through the perfumed crowd serving champagne and hors d’oeuvres. The linen-covered tables were adorned with elegant centerpieces of silver candles nestled by glass ornaments and frosted pine branches. A jazz quartet was playing classic Christmas songs.

  Tamia was wearing the strapless red Versace gown Brandon had bought her in Italy.

  The twenty-thousand-dollar gown he hadn’t been able to peel off her fast enough.

  The gown that clung dangerously to her curves and had a plunging back and a deep slit up to her thighs.

  It was sexy.

  It was scandalous.

  It was perfect.

  Standing beside her, Dominic looked like a gazillion bucks in his Brioni tuxedo. Tamia knew they made a stunning couple. When they entered the ballroom, heads turned, eyes widening with admiration.

  Tamia felt a thrill of satisfaction that waned the moment she looked through the crowd and saw Brandon.

  He and Cynthia were standing in a circle with Beyoncé and Jay-Z, Dre, Justin, and Cornel. Bey was as dazzlingly beautiful as ever, and Cynthia looked timelessly elegant in a midnight-blue evening gown. The brothas were immaculate in their designer tuxes, hands dipped lazily into pockets—every last one of them oozing swagger, charm, and testosterone galore.

  Cynthia was possessively latched onto Brandon’s arm, wearing one of those fake smiles that surfaced whenever she felt threatened by another female. Didn’t matter that the female in question was a gorgeous megastar who only had eyes for her mogul husband. And it didn’t matter that the gorgeous megastar and Brandon had been friends long before Cynthia ever came on the scene, to the extent that Bey had dedicated a song to Brandon and had given him cameo appearances in her videos. The warmer the camaraderie between the two old friends, the frostier Cynthia’s smile became.

  Tamia watched in quiet amusement as Brandon cracked a joke that had Bey punching him playfully on the arm. As he threw back his head and howled with laughter, Cynthia looked ready to lunge at the singer’s bejeweled throat.

  “Tamia.”

  She turned to see Beau sauntering toward her, dark and dashing in a custom-tailored tuxedo with his diamond stud twinkling in one ear. As his gaze shuttled between Tamia and Dominic, a muscle throbbed in his jaw. For the first time since Tamia had met him, she sensed that he wasn’t pleased with her.

  She smiled brightly. “Hey, Beau. Did you get my message? I called to—”

  “I got it.” His tone was cool, his eyes even colder.

  She added nervously, “Well, like I explained in my message, Honey couldn’t be here tonight. So I decided to, um, come with someone else.”

  “I see that,” Beau said tightly. “I thought you might come with Shanell or another friend.”

  “Nah, she decided to spend the evening with me.” Dominic smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement as he slid his hand forward. “Nice to meet you, Brandon’s brother.”

  Beau glared at Dominic’s proffered hand like it was covered in shit.

  “Everything looks wonderful, Beau,” Tamia quickly intervened. “What an amazing turnout.”

  “It certainly is,” Dominic agreed.

  Beau raked him with a scornful glance, his lip curled up into a snarl. Just when Tamia began to worry that he might take a swing at Dominic, he shifted his attention to her. His accusing gaze made her feel like the worst of traitors.

  “I need to finish greeting my guests,” he said curtly.

  “Of course.” Tamia forced another smile. “It was good to see you.”

  As Beau bent to kiss her upturned cheek, he growled in her ear, “If anything goes down tonight, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

  Tamia gulped hard.

  He pulled back and gave her a disappointed look before moving off, shaking his head as he departed.

  That was the moment Tamia began to second-guess her decision to show up tonight.

  Dominic offered his arm to her. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s go find our seats.”

  She nodded wordlessly.

  They started across the room, pausing frequently to speak to clients and acquaintances of Dominic’s. If anyone was shocked or dismayed to see them in public together, they were too polite to let on.

  Tamia and Dominic were walking behind a group of people making their way toward the front when the throng suddenly parted—and they found themselves practically face-to-face with Brandon and Cynthia.

  Both couples pulled up short, as if they’d collided with an invisible wall.

  As Tamia and Brandon’s gazes locked, she stopped breathing.

  He seemed to do the same.

  Everything around them faded away as he ran his gaze over her, recognizing the gown she wore. Her insides trembled as she watched the range of emotions that flashed across his face—hurt, disbelief, bitterness, and fury.

  Raising her chin, she defiantly stared him down, letting him know that this was payback.

  His eyes narrowed.

  Moments later, his expression went carefully blank, and he gave her a cool nod before moving on without a word of acknowledgment to her or Dominic. As he curved his arm around Cynthia’s waist, she glanced over her shoulder and smirked triumphantly at Tamia.

  “You okay?” Dominic murmured.

  Tamia nodded, inhaling a shaky breath.

  Suddenly this evening couldn’t end fast enough.

  Over the next three hours, she tried her damnedest to enjoy herself.

  She ate with gusto, savoring the lavish meal of lobster, stuffed oyster, and braised duck. She smiled and chatted companionably with Dominic and the other women at their table, who couldn’t stop complimenting her hair, makeup, and gown.

  She was pleasantly shocked when Brooke Chambers made her way across the room and leaned over her shoulder to confide, “I know my brothers are on strike against you right now, but I just had to cross the picket line to tell you that you are rockin’ the hell outta that dress. I’ve never been tempted to steal a bitch’s clothes off her back until I saw you tonight. Watch out.” She winked before strutting back to her table.

  When Tamia caught Joseph and Coretta Yarbrough glaring at her, she smiled sweetly and waved, taking satisfaction in their affronted scowls.

  She listened with rapt absorption to Emmitt Smith’s heartwarming keynote speech, applauding sincerely at the end. She got misty-eyed watching the scholarship recipients choke back tears as they thanked their mothers, coach
es, and mentors for believing in them. When the beaming youngsters posed for a group photo afterward with Brandon, Beau, Dre, and Emmitt Smith, Tamia found herself on her feet with everyone else, heart swelling with pride as she clapped and cheered.

  When Brandon looked out over the crowd and made eye contact with her, a shadow of a smile softened his expression before he glanced away.

  After the scholarships had been awarded and closing remarks made, many attendees lingered to socialize and enjoy more champagne as they waited for the floor to be cleared for dancing. Christmas Eve was only hours away, so the mood was festive and relaxed, and the night was young.

  Dominic leaned close to Tamia and murmured, “Did you have a good time?”

  She smiled. “I did, actually.”

  “Good.” His eyes glimmered. “Ready to go?”

  She nodded, pushing back her chair. “Let me use the bathroom first.”

  She left the ballroom and headed down the corridor toward the restrooms, her heels tapping against the gleaming marble floors. Reaching the ladies’ room, she pushed the door open and strode inside.

  She skidded to an abrupt stop at the sight that greeted her.

  Brooke had Dre pinned up against the counter, her hands cupping his face as she kissed him ravenously.

  Dre was groaning and moving his arms like he didn’t know whether to push Brooke away or pull her closer.

  Upon Tamia’s entrance, they whipped their heads around and stared at her.

  Dre looked stunned and guilt-stricken.

  Brooke looked mildly annoyed. “Damn, I knew I should have locked that door.”

  Tamia stammered, “Uh . . . I’ll just, um, come back later.”

  She backed quickly out the door, clapping a hand over her mouth to smother a hysterical giggle. She couldn’t believe it. Dre and Brooke? Brandon would kill Dre if he ever found out about this!

  Tamia didn’t have time to dwell on the amusing scenario she’d just stumbled upon. The moment she reentered the ballroom, she was accosted by none other than Brandon’s mother.

  “I can’t believe you had the audacity to show your face here tonight,” Gwen hissed, raking Tamia with a look of blistering contempt. “Have you no shame?”