Betrayed (Atlanta's Finest Series Book 5)

by Sharon C. Cooper

  Sighing, Zenobia turned onto her stomach and punched the pillow before burying her face into it and growling. “Who am I kidding?” Her inner bad-girl had walked out on her years ago, leaving behind Zen, the singing sensation, as the media referred to her.

  “I want my life back.” Her muffled words sounded like gibberish even to her own ears, but they were true. She wanted the life that she’d had right after signing her first record deal, but before she became a household name. That time had been exciting, yet simple.

  Now everything was different. She had money, a beautiful home, and her songs were being played on the radio day and night all over the world. Basically, she had everything she’d always wanted. Yet, she felt like a prisoner in her own house.

  Zenobia lifted her head. “No. I’m not a prisoner. This is my home and I refuse to let anyone scare me to the point of cowering in my bedroom or behind double-locked doors.”

  She leaped up, adjusted the white tank top and shorts that she’d been lounging in, and padded to the door. With her ear against it, she listened to see if she heard Angelo. After they ate and cleaned the kitchen, he had double-checked the doors, set the alarm, and then they retired to their rooms. Since then, Zenobia hadn’t heard a sound out of him.

  She eased the door open and quietly crept down the stairs. Two o’clock in the morning was as good as any time for a snack. Salty, sweet, she didn’t care. She just needed something to help take her mind off of her current situation.

  She flipped on the light, illuminating the large space as she trekked across the cold tiled floor to the pantry. “What do I have a taste for?” Not seeing anything she wanted, she went to the cabinet for a glass.

  “Kind of late to be eating isn’t it?”

  Zenobia screamed. The stemware slipped from her hand and chards of glass scattered across the floor.

  “Aw hell,” the deep voice murmured.

  With a hand on her chest, Zenobia’s frantic gaze went to the stairs where Angelo stood, and her heart skidded to a halt. It should’ve been against the law for anyone to look that sexy in the middle of the night. She’d already been fantasizing about straddling him and then riding him like a cowgirl. Now here he stood, hair mussed, as if he had been running his fingers through it and bare chested with worn jeans hanging low on his hips. She itched to turn her earlier fantasy into reality, and in the process quench the sexual need throbbing between her thighs.

  Slipping a black T-shirt, one that seemed to appear out of thin air, over his head, Angelo covered his glorious chest, then hurried the rest of the way down the stairs. He skirted around the center island and stopped short.

  “Damn, you don’t have on any shoes. Don’t move.”

  Like she could actually move. She was still willing her heart rate back to normal after getting the crap scared out of her.

  “I can take…” Zenobia gasped when he suddenly lifted her onto the center island as if she weighed nothing. Even the coldness of the quartz countertop against the back of her legs wasn’t cold enough to cool the heat consuming her body. Her gorgeous bodyguard boyfriend had just revealed another skill in his arsenal. Not only was he smart, fearless, and could make a woman hot and bothered with just a smile, he was also ridiculously strong.

  “Sit tight,” he said, and bent down and picked up the larger pieces of glass. That’s when Zenobia noticed the handle of the gun in the back waistband of his jeans. Even trained to be a good marksman, Zen hated guns. She’d been forced to learn how to use one, but hadn’t seen or touched one in years.

  “Do you always walk around the house with a gun?” she asked when he returned from the mudroom with the broom and made quick work of sweeping up the glass.

  “No, but I do have it on me almost always when I hear someone creeping around the house in the middle of the night.”

  Her cheeks burned. So much for her stealth abilities. “Sorry I woke you. I tried to be quiet.” She wasn’t sure how he’d heard her considering the stairs were carpeted and the floors didn’t squeak.

  “I’m a light sleeper, and there’s no need to apologize. This is your home. I just wanted to make sure everything was all right.”

  “By sneaking up on me?”

  Angelo chuckled. “Scaring you wasn’t my intent.”

  He finished sweeping, and Zenobia started to jump down from the counter, but he stopped her with a hand on her thigh.

  “Hold up.”

  She should be used to the zing that coursed through her body whenever he touched her, but apparently, she wasn’t. A stupefying tremor of lust rocked her body and had her toes curling. Pretending they were a couple wasn’t going to be the hard part over the next couple of weeks. Keeping her body in check and her heart protected were going to be nearly impossible.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He disappeared to the mudroom, and returned seconds later with a pair of her flip-flops. She usually kept a few in a small basket near the door that led to the swimming pool. Instead of handing her the shoes, he blew her mind when he gently gripped her ankle and slid them onto her feet. It might’ve been a simple act, but the gesture was one of the most sensual things he could’ve done for her.

  Once he helped her down, Angelo rinsed his hands in the kitchen sink. “It’s two o’clock in the morning. What are you doing up?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. I figured I’d come down for some water and a snack.”

  “What type of snack?”

  “Um, I’m thinking an ice cream sundae. I can make us both one if you want.” She started grabbing items from the walk-in pantry. When she stepped back into the kitchen, her arms were filled with chopped pecans, M&Ms, sprinkles and gummy bears. Then she pulled out a container of vanilla ice cream, as well as butter pecan and rocky road ice cream. From the refrigerator she grabbed whipped cream, chocolate sauce, a small container of pineapples, and cherries.

  Once she was sure she had everything, she glanced at Angelo. “What do you want on yours?”

  “Seriously?” His eyes were wide as he looked over everything that covered the oversize countertop. “You’re going to eat all of this?”

  She tsked and slammed her hands on her hips. “Well, not all at the same time. I like to have options. Oh my God, please don’t tell me you’re a vanilla kind of guy.”

  He flashed that wicked grin that had peeked out earlier, and again sent heat rushing through her body. “Sweetheart, there is nothing vanilla about me.” He winked at her, and his sexual magnetism had her fighting the need to be up close and personal with him. Before all was said and done, Zenobia had a feeling that her inner bad-girl would make an appearance. She was going to have this man, and there wouldn’t be anything fake about all that she planned to do with him.

  Her lascivious gaze followed Angelo as he moved around the kitchen. He set a couple of tall glasses on the counter. “What were you planning on drinking?”

  “Water.”

  He removed the water pitcher from the refrigerator, poured two glasses and handed her one. After returning the pitcher to the refrigerator, he grabbed some bowls from a cabinet and placed them on the counter.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve had ice cream.” He went for the butter pecan, and she added rocky road to her bowl.

  “Really? What’s your snack of choice?”

  “I’m not a big snacker.”

  No kidding. With a body like that, showing no fat anywhere, it was obvious he rarely indulged in junk food.

  “On occasion, though, I’ll go a little crazy and eat some chips or popcorn.”

  Zenobia strolled to the pantry. “Well, if you prefer, I have both.”

  “Nah, this is cool.” He carried his bowl to the other side of the counter and claimed one of the barstools.

  Zenobia added extra nuts, M&Ms, and pineapple to her ice cream, but hesitated before adding anything else. The last thing she wanted to do was make a pig of herself in front of him, but she wanted chocolate sauce and a couple of cherries. She risked a peek at An
gelo, not surprised to see him watching her.

  “Do you, baby. I won’t judge.”

  Now that the house was free of listening devices, she was surprised that he used terms of endearment. Before they were playing up their fake relationship for anyone listening, but now they didn’t have to pretend. At least when they were at the house.

  “As you’ve probably guessed, I have a sweet tooth and enjoy midnight snacks.”

  “Oh, so eating at two o’clock in the morning is a norm for you?” He stuffed a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and slowly pulled the spoon back out. Zenobia’s knees went weak as his dark, spellbinding gaze nailed her in place as he licked the utensil.

  Who knew watching someone eat ice cream could be such an erotic experience? Was he intentionally trying to turn her on? He had to know how suggestive the move looked, making her mind wonder at what else he could do with his tongue.

  Don’t even go there.

  This is a fake relationship.

  We’re just pretending.

  It didn’t matter how many times she tried reminding herself of that fact, a part of her didn’t want to pretend. The man stirred something so salacious inside of her that she wanted to explore the foreign feeling and see where it led.

  “No, I wouldn’t say eating this late is a norm, but I am a snacker,” she finally said. “That’s why I have to work out so much. I’m trying to keep all the crap I eat from landing on my hips.”

  His gaze did a slow crawl down her body, lingering on her hips, before working its way back up. “Whatever you’re doing is definitely working.”

  Heat crept into her cheeks, and Zenobia looked away. She grabbed the remote control from the counter and pointed it at the Bluetooth speaker sitting on a shelf across the room. Within seconds, Kenny Lattimore’s smooth baritone filled the quietness of the kitchen as “Stay On Your Mind” flowed through the speaker. She turned the volume down a little, then took the seat next to Angelo.

  They ate their ice cream while listening to music, and Zenobia had to admit, she liked his company. It wasn’t often that she was immediately comfortable with someone, especially with a man, but Angelo wasn’t just any man. He was a man who she felt an intense connection with, a connection she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. It didn’t hurt that he was the total package, at least from what she knew of him. That realization sparked a thought.

  “Are you, um…in a relationship?” she asked.

  He turned his head slightly to look at her. “Sweetheart, if I was in a relationship, I wouldn’t be pretending to be your man. I wouldn’t have taken the assignment.”

  “You can choose which assignments you want?”

  “For the most part, but I rarely turn down assignments unless there’s some type of conflict of interest, or scheduling issues.”

  “Sooo, there’s no special woman in your life?”

  He chuckled. “No one but my mother and my sisters. Why? Are you interested?”

  “Yes. No. I mean…” Her pulse quickened, and she wished the floor would just open up and swallow her whole. “I—I was just wondering.”

  He studied her for a few minutes longer, then flashed a sexy grin. Her pulse amped up. She loved when he smiled. It transformed the hard lines of his chiseled features and had her belly doing funny things.

  He returned his attention back to his ice cream. “I’m not really the relationship type. Don’t get me wrong. I love women, but I don’t do long-term commitments.”

  “Let me guess. You had a horrible childhood. Your parents fought all the time and their relationship ended in divorce. Since then, you’re afraid to get involved with anyone for fear the same will happen to you.”

  Angelo chuckled and shook his head. “That’s some imagination you have there, but no.”

  “Oh, so some woman hurt you and you’re not willing to give your heart to another.”

  His expression turned serious. “There used to be someone special, but things didn’t work out. I can’t be with someone I can’t trust, and let’s just say, she wasn’t the most trustworthy person.”

  A stab of guilt bloomed inside Zenobia’s chest. She might not have really come out and lied to him, but during the questioning earlier, she hadn’t been completely honest. But it was for the best. Some things were left better unsaid.

  “As for my parents,” he continued, “They’re the opposite of what you just described.”

  Zenobia listened as he told her about how his parents had fallen in love at first sight. She didn’t believe that was possible, but considering they’d been married for almost forty years, maybe there was something to it. He spoke fondly of his three brothers and two sisters and talked about how close they all were.

  Hearing Angelo speak so highly of his tight-knit family only reminded Zenobia of the dysfunction she’d grown up with. Heck, at thirty, her life was still dysfunctional in some ways. What would it be like to have parents who loved each other and adored their children? How would it feel to hang out and confide in siblings who you could call on anytime for anything?

  She would never know, but if she was lucky, maybe one day she would get married. Then she’d have a bunch of children and create the life she always wanted. A normal life filled with love and laughter.

  “Besides music, what else do you enjoy?” Angelo asked.

  Music was her life. Considering how her career had suddenly taken off, she didn’t really have time for much of anything else. “I enjoy running. Well, I used to before someone tried snatching me off the street,” she said it jokingly, but deep down, the incident still freaked her out.

  “Yeah, I could see where that would take the fun out of jogging outside. I think for now on, even after we catch the perps, you shouldn’t run alone.”

  Zenobia sighed as she continued eating. “You’re probably right. For now, I’ll just run on my treadmill, unless you’re willing to go for a run with me sometime. At least while you’re still around.”

  Angelo nodded. “That could be arranged. What else do you enjoy doing?”

  “Reading, but nothing too heavy, and I like to swim.”

  “I noticed the Olympic-sized pool out back.”

  “Oh, please, it’s not that big, but I’ve always enjoyed swimming. I had hoped to make it to the Olympics one day.”

  “Really? You’re that good?”

  “Not really.” She gave a little laugh. “It was just something I dreamed of accomplishing.”

  “But instead you got into music, huh?” She nodded. “How long have you been singing?”

  “Since I was a kid. My mother loved music and had an amazing voice. Whenever she cooked or clean, she would sing. Everything from R&B to country. After a while, I sang along with her. I didn’t realize how good I was until my freshman year. My high school did a production of Fame, and I got the lead role.”

  “Damn, that’s cool.”

  It had been cool. Something she would never in her life forget, for more reasons than one. Singing and performing gave her the outlet she needed to be herself, especially as her mother’s mental health declined. As long as she was at school, Zenobia didn’t have to worry about stealing so that she could eat. She also didn’t have to be at home where she had to watch her mother battle with the voices inside her head. All Zenobia had wanted was for her mother to be healthy so that they could go back to the way things used to be.

  A sudden bout of sadness pierced her heart and it took everything within her not to succumb to the emotion. She would never forget opening night of the play. All of her friends had family in the audience, but she had no one. She had never known her father, and at that time, her mother rarely left the house.

  Angelo touched her hand and Zenobia startled.

  “Where’s your mother now?”

  After a slight hesitation she said, “She committed suicide months before I turned sixteen.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Aww, baby. I’m sorry.”

  As Angelo listened to her tell him
about one of the darkest times in her life, all he wanted to do was gather her into his arms to comfort her. That wouldn’t be a good idea. For one, he couldn’t promise that he could stop at just a hug. Seeing her in the tank top with no bra on and the tiny shorts already had him in an uncomfortable state of arousal. Secondly, he needed to keep her talking. Needed to make her feel comfortable with him in order to learn as much about her and her past as possible.

  But hearing Zenobia discuss her mother’s death, and how she’d been bounced around in foster care, was hard to hear. So often, he took his big loving family for granted, forgetting that there were so many who didn’t have the great life he’d had growing up.

  “Once I aged out, I bummed around the country, doing a little of this and that.” She shrugged. “My big break came when there was open mic night at a club I hung out at. Octavia happened to be there, and like they say, the rest is history.”

  “At what point did you start stealing?” He hadn’t planned to bring up the talent, but curiosity got the best of him.

  Her flushed cheeks deepened to crimson. “I—I…I started when I was in high-school. Sometimes that was the only way my mom and I ate. She’d gotten to the point to where it was hard for her to keep a job, and though I worked a few hours a week at a record store, I wasn’t making enough money.” Zenobia shrugged. “I did what I had to do to survive.”

  “And now?”

  “Now…” She shook her head. “I’m not sure what made me take your wallet. I’m so sorry. I haven’t done anything like that in years, and I promise I’ll never steal from you again.”

  He noticed she hadn’t agreed to never steal again, just not steal from him.

  Angelo nodded, sensing she was still holding something back. Something critical. He wanted to question her more about where she’d been and what she did while floating around the country.

  Instead he said, “Tell me more about Octavia.”

  As Angelo stood and walked around to the other side of the counter to rinse his bowl, Zenobia started talking about her manager. Octavia might be a drama queen and a bit high strung, but it seemed as if she was serious about business. Sounded like she played the role of both agent and manager in Zenobia’s career. She negotiated contracts and taught her everything from what to expect with music producers to how to dress to impress. The woman was even responsible for some of Zenobia’s onstage choreography.