by Naomi Chase
“Do you?” Bernard challenged, eyeing him shrewdly. “Because ever since you told us about Tamia, I’ve often wondered if you’ve forgotten your priorities.”
“My priorities are right where they need to be,” Brandon countered evenly. “But thanks for your concern.”
Bernard glared at him before turning away to whack at another ball. “I haven’t told your mother about this latest stunt of yours. She’s still recovering from your decision to represent Tamia during the trial, and she was livid that Tamia showed her face at Bishop Yarbrough’s church last Sunday.”
“The audacity of the woman, showing up at church to hear God’s word,” Brandon exclaimed with mock indignation.
His father shot him one of those quelling looks that used to have Brandon and his siblings ducking for cover.
Now Brandon merely chuckled.
Bernard wasn’t amused. “Your mother isn’t the only one who was upset. She had to console Cynthia for quite a while after the service.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Brandon said blandly.
Bernard scowled. “You know what else is unfortunate? Your complete lack of judgment and shortsightedness when it comes to Tamia Luke.” His lips twisted scornfully. “You think Barack would have made it to the White House with some hood rat on his arm? Hell, no! He chose an educated, articulate, sophisticated woman that mainstream America could accept and admire. If you have any serious political aspirations—and that’s not even up for debate—Cynthia Yarbrough is the woman you want by your side. You got that? Cynthia is the one who will help take you all the way, not Tamia.”
When Brandon made no comment, his father shook his head in angry exasperation. “But since you seem hell-bent on having that damn woman, at least be discreet about it, for God’s sake! Flaunting her in Cynthia’s face is the quickest way to get your fucking balls chopped off in the middle of the night.”
This startled a laugh out of Brandon.
“You think I’m joking?” Bernard nodded at his golf club. “Ask Tiger Woods if he was laughing after his wife swung one of these at his head.”
Brandon sobered. “I see your point.”
“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, son. Always remember that.”
“Thanks. I will.” Brandon gave his father a sardonic look. “So does this mean you’d condone me having an affair with Tamia?”
“Hell, no. But you’re a grown man, and I know you’re gonna do what you want. Or should I say, who you want.”
Brandon frowned. “I haven’t done anything.”
“Yet. But you will,” Bernard said knowingly.“Tamia’s a sexy, beautiful woman. The moment I met her, I could see how you’d gotten turned out.”
Brandon scowled. “I’m not turned out.”
Bernard snorted, swinging at another ball. “Don’t kid a kidder, son. That girl had your number from day one. She’s your kryptonite. But take heart. All great men throughout history have had mistresses. David had Bathsheba, JFK had Marilyn, Bill had Monica—”
“Please don’t tell me Barack has someone.”
His father smirked at him.
“Never mind,” Brandon muttered, holding up a hand. “I don’t wanna know.”
“What? I didn’t say anything. Anyway, the bottom line is that next to your mother and Bishop Yarbrough, you’re my most important campaign surrogate. So I can’t afford to have you caught up in some sex scandal or any other nonsense that could compromise my campaign. The Republicans are gunning for me in the worst way, so even the slightest misstep could torpedo my candidacy.”
“I’m aware of that,” Brandon said levelly.
“Good. So go ahead and enjoy Tamia as your mistress. But be discreet about it.” Bernard jabbed a warning finger at Brandon. “And for God’s sake, don’t get any crazy ideas about making her your wife.”
Chapter 19
Tamia
Twenty-four hours after hearing Honey’s shocking revelation, Tamia was still reeling. She couldn’t believe that Joseph Yarbrough—pastor of the largest black megachurch in Texas and a devoted family man—had been secretly paying an escort for sex.
It wasn’t his shady behavior that shocked her. After all, it seemed that every time she turned on the television, there was news of some prominent politician or minister who’d been caught in a sex scandal. So she wasn’t necessarily stunned to learn that Joseph Yarbrough, like many powerful men, had a problem keeping his dick in his pants.
What angered and appalled her was that he’d stood behind the pulpit and railed against the dangers of lust and sexual immorality while he was secretly banging a woman young enough to be his daughter. Tamia’s temper flared every time she remembered the way he’d condescendingly looked down his nose at her and spouted that sanctimonious bullshit about being used as a “vessel to shed light in the darkness of sinners’ souls.”
Fucking hypocrite!
“How do I look?”
Pulled out of her dark musings, Tamia glanced up from her laptop. Honey stood in the doorway of her study wearing a slinky black cocktail dress that showed off her ample cleavage and voluptuous curves.
Tamia smiled. “You look good, baby girl.”
“Good enough to eat?” Honey asked with a wink.
Tamia laughed. “I’m sure your client will think so. And don’t give me that look. I’ve already told you I’m strictly dickly. If you try any shit with me, I’ma whup your ass and call Keyshawn to come get you.”
Honey laughed. “Damn, Tamia, that’s messed up! It’s not my fault I have a crush on you.”
“Bitch, whatever.”
Honey grinned, her stiletto heels clicking on the hardwood floor as she walked over to Tamia’s desk and perched her hip on the corner, her manicured fingers wrapped around her cell phone. “Thanks again for taking me shopping today, and for hooking up my makeup. You can hardly even see the black eye.”
Tamia nodded. “I still think you should have taken the night off.”
“I can’t. I already switched with another girl last night. If I call in sick again, Lou will get suspicious. Besides, I need the money.”
Tamia heaved a resigned sigh. “All right.”
Honey smiled softly. “I really appreciate your concern, Tamia. I always wanted an older sister who’d look out for me.”
Tamia couldn’t help thinking of Fiona. After everything she’d done for that heffa over the years, Fiona had repaid her with an unspeakable act of betrayal. For that reason alone, Tamia had no interest in becoming someone else’s big sister.
She eyed Honey suspiciously. “How old are you anyway?”
The girl bit her lip, looking sheepish. “Lou told me not to tell you.”
“What? Why the hell—”
“Are you thinking about going to law school?” Honey asked abruptly.
Caught off guard by the question—which was an obvious diversion tactic—Tamia frowned. “No. Why?”
Honey nodded at the stack of legal tomes that Tamia had purchased from the bookstore yesterday.
“Oh. Those.” Tamia smiled. “I’m cramming for a new job.”
“At a law firm?”
“Yes, but not just any law firm. I’m going to be working with Brandon.”
Honey’s eyes widened. “For real?”
“Yup.” Tamia beamed. “He asked me to be his assistant yesterday.”
“Are you serious? That’s wonderful, Tamia!”
“I know. I couldn’t believe it.”
“When do you start?” Honey asked her.
“Monday. I’ll be part-time until his assistant goes on maternity leave.” Ever since Brandon called Tamia that morning to confirm the details, she’d been floating on cloud nine.
An amused gleam filled Honey’s eyes. “You know Cynthia probably had a damn fit when she found out.”
“I know.” Tamia grinned with wicked satisfaction. “I’d have loved to be a fly on the wall when Brandon told her. She’s about to find out how I felt when she was always hanging aro
und him, wandering into his office for no reason, acting all innocent when I knew damn well she wanted to fuck my boo.”
“Can you really blame her? Your boo is fine as hell.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I know.” Honey grinned wryly. “I’ve never met Cynthia, but the way her father goes on and on about her, you would think she was as pure as Snow White.”
Tamia snorted derisively. “Ain’t nothing ‘pure’ about that bitch. She’s a fraud just like her father.”
Honey grimaced. “I probably shouldn’t have told you about me and Bishop Yarbrough. Now that you’ll be working at the firm with Cynthia, you’re gonna be tempted to rub her face in what you know.”
“You’re right,” Tamia admitted darkly. “I will be tempted. It’d give me great satisfaction to knock that heffa off her high horse. But I promised to keep your secret, and I intend to keep that promise. All right?”
“All right.” Honey sighed. “I do feel a little better now that I’ve told someone. Does that make sense?”
Before Tamia could respond, Honey’s cell rang. “That’s my driver,” she said, glancing at the caller ID. She answered the phone and let him know she was on her way downstairs, then hung up and smiled ruefully at Tamia. “Showtime.”
After seeing Honey off, Tamia padded into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. She’d just taken a sip when the doorbell rang. Assuming that Honey had forgotten something, she went to open the door.
The moment she saw who stood there, the blood drained from her head.
It was the last person she’d expected to see.
The last person she’d wanted to see.
“Hello, Mystique.” A slow, mocking smile crawled across Dominic’s face. “Miss me?”
Tamia stared at him for a stunned moment.
As she moved to slam the door, his arm shot through the narrow opening.
Tamia pushed against him, but he was too strong for her. As he forcefully shoved the door open and barged inside, she stumbled backward, heart knocking against her rib cage.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she hissed furiously. “And how did you find me?”
“Come now, love,” Dominic drawled, closing and locking the door behind him. “You know I can always find you, as I proved the very first time we met.”
Tamia glared at him. After the way he’d ruined her life, she hated that she still found him sexy as hell, with his copper-brown complexion, sleepy dark eyes, and full, sensuous lips. His tall, muscular frame was covered in a black turtleneck and black jeans that made him look like a cat burglar, which seemed fitting under the circumstances.
After the trial, Brandon had filed a restraining order against Dominic to protect Tamia from further harassment or retaliation. He wasn’t supposed to come anywhere near her.
“You’re violating the restraining order,” Tamia coldly informed him. “If you don’t leave right now, I’m calling the police.”
Dominic tsk-tsked. “Is that any way to treat your old lover? And after I went to the trouble of tracking you down?”
“Listen, you motherfucker,” Tamia snarled. “I have nothing to say to you!”
“Oh, but I have plenty to say to you.” His eyes roamed appreciatively over her body, lingering on the swell of her breasts. “Before we talk, maybe we can get ... reacquainted.”
“You’re out of your damn mind,” Tamia spat, even as she mentally flashed on an image from the erotic dream she’d had. “I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last man on earth.”
He laughed softly. “We both know you don’t really mean that. You’ve been locked up for the past five months, so I know good and damn well you’ve been feenin’ for some dick.” He smiled suggestively, coming toward her. “Remember how great we were together? Remember how much you loved having this Crucian cock ramming into that hot, wet pussy of yours?”
As her nipples hardened traitorously, Tamia folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. “I’ma tell you one more time, motherfucker. Get out, or I’m calling the police.”
His smile widened. “No, you won’t.”
“Watch me.”
As she spun on her heel, he launched at her, seizing her around the waist and wrestling her to the floor.
“Get off me!” Tamia screamed, struggling helplessly as he straddled her hips and clamped her wrists together in one powerful grip.
“Stop fighting,” he barked at her.
“SOMEONE H—”
He clapped his hand over her mouth, muffling her cry for help. “Stop fighting,” he warned again, “or I’ll really give you something to scream about.”
Tamia went still, staring up at him with alarm. For the first time, it occurred to her how much danger she was in, trapped alone with the conniving bastard who believed she’d murdered his wife.
As if he’d read her mind, Dominic smiled malevolently. “You got away with the perfect crime, didn’t you?”
When Tamia vehemently shook her head, he let out a low, menacing chuckle that scraped her nerves raw. “Yes, you did. You killed my wife, then managed to convince the jury that I was the murderer.”
Tamia eyed him warily, nostrils flaring as she struggled to control her breathing.
“I’m going to remove my hand so we can have a conversation,” Dominic said softly. “If you even think about screaming for help, it’ll be the last sound you ever make. Do you understand?”
Tamia swallowed hard, then gave a jerky nod.
Slowly he uncovered her mouth, his eyes daring her to defy him.
Tamia wisely remained silent.
“We both know I didn’t kill Isabel,” he continued. “But thanks to you and Loverboy, I’m under investigation by the police. My assets have been frozen, my company’s losing money, and I can’t even collect on Isabel’s insurance policy as long as I’m considered a suspect in her murder. As if that weren’t bad enough, my grandfather died last week, but I wasn’t allowed to fly home to attend the funeral because I’ve been ordered not to leave the damn country.”
Tamia sneered at him. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? You ruined my damn life. Because of you, I lost my boyfriend, my job, and my freedom. So spare me your fucking sob story. You deserve everything that’s—”
She gasped as thick, strong fingers suddenly seized her throat.
“Stupid bitch,” Dominic snarled, his eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction as she frantically thrashed against him, gasping for air. “You always did have a problem remembering who was in charge. After all the shit I just told you, do you really think it’s smart to antagonize me? I’m on the verge of losing everything, so what’s to stop me from choking you to death right now?”
Tamia stared at him in wild-eyed terror as his fingers tightened around her neck.
“I should kill you,” he growled. “God knows you’ve been more trouble to me than you’re worth. You and that pussy-whipped boyfriend of yours. I should kill both of you. But this is your lucky day, bitch, ’cause you’re more useful to me alive than dead.”
As he abruptly released his stranglehold, Tamia wheezed and coughed as sweet, blessed air rushed back into her lungs.
Dominic smirked at her. “Didn’t like that feeling, did you? Thought you saw your life flash before your eyes, didn’t you? Imagine how my wife felt when you pointed that gun at her and pulled the trigger.”
“I didn’t—” Tamia broke off, her throat raw from the prolonged lack of oxygen.
“You didn’t what? Kill my wife?”
Tamia nodded vigorously.
Dominic sneered. “So you keep insisting. I have to applaud you for the brilliant performance you put on for those gullible jurors. The way you took the stand that day and talked about your poor upbringing, how you and your family had to survive on food stamps, how you always dreamed of going to college but you knew your mother couldn’t afford it. You made your decision to do porn sound like the act of a fucking martyr. And don’t even get me started on
Juror Number Eight. Every time you just glanced at that nigga, I thought he was gonna nut in his pants. Speaking of which”—he deliberately rubbed his hard dick against Tamia’s crotch, making her shudder with a combination of revulsion and arousal—“what do you say we take this to the bedroom, for old time’s sake?”
Tamia eyed him incredulously. “If you really believe I killed your wife,” she said hoarsely, “why would you still wanna fuck me?”
An amused, knowing gleam lit his eyes. “The same reason you still wanna fuck me after everything I did to you. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re wrong.”
Dominic gave her a look of mock reproach. “You should know better than to lie to me,” he gently scolded, running his fingertip from her chin down to the plump cleavage exposed by her low-cut sweater. “Your nipples have been hard ever since I got here. And I know if I slipped my hand inside your panties, I’d find your pussy soaking wet for me.”
Tamia couldn’t resist smirking. “Actually, I was thinking about Brandon before you showed up. So the nectar is for him, not you.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed menacingly. “What did I tell you about provoking me? You wanna get choked again?”
Tamia gulped tightly.
When she tugged at her captured wrists, he tightened his grip until she winced in pain.
“You think I’m playing around with you, bitch. But I’m very serious about clearing my name and getting my life back, and you’re gonna help me.”
“How?” Tamia challenged defiantly. “You have no more power over me, Dominic. Thanks to you, all my secrets have been exposed. I lost everything, and I spent five months in prison for a crime I didn’t commit. So unless you plan to kill me right now, nigga, there ain’t shit else you can do to me.”
“Wrong,” Dominic countered silkily.
“What?”
“See, Tamia, I think you’ve still got one or two secrets up your sleeve.”
She eyed him warily. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I watched your every move during the trial. When the prosecutors showed the crime scene photos, you looked like you were gonna be sick. At first I thought you were just pretending, or maybe you looked upset because you couldn’t face the reality of what you’d done. But then I saw the way you kept looking over your shoulder, as if you were searching for someone. Someone that you felt should have been sitting at that defense table instead of you.”
