Betrayal (22 page)

“I can't go to the fundraiser with you tomorrow,” Honey blurted when Tamia answered her phone on Thursday evening.

Tamia frowned. “What do you mean you can't go? I thought you said Keyshawn has to work this weekend.”

“That's what he told me, but I'm starting to have my doubts.”

“Why?”

“Well, he's been acting jealous and suspicious again. When I got out of the shower this morning, I caught him going through my purse. He claimed he was looking for some gum, but I didn't believe him. He's started asking me questions about Bishop Yarbrough again, even though I haven't been on any dates with him since I got back from New Orleans. It's like Keyshawn's just
looking
for a reason to go public about me and the bishop.”

Tamia frowned. “Damn, girl.”

“I know. It's crazy.” Honey sounded close to tears. “I think he followed me to one of my dates the other night, and he's probably planning to do the same thing if I go to the fundraiser banquet with you. So I ain't taking no chances.”

“That's probably a good idea. And it just occurred to me that Bishop Yarbrough will probably be there—”

“Shit. That's right. I hadn't even thought of that.” Honey sighed heavily. “Yeah, I'd better keep my ass at home.”

“Yeah,” Tamia grimly agreed. “But I'm sorry you won't be able to go. Beau's gonna be so disappointed.”

“I know,” Honey lamented. “I really wanted to meet him, but it just seems like it's never gonna happen.”

“It will. Don't worry.” Tamia ate her last forkful of plantain, tapping her foot to the rhythm of steel drums that transported her back to St. Croix.

“Where are you?” Honey asked curiously.

“At a restaurant,” Tamia answered vaguely.

She was having an early dinner at Winston's, named after Dominic's late grandfather. The popular Caribbean-style restaurant featured an elegantly casual decor with French doors and dark leather booths contrasted with walls the color of papaya. There were beautiful watercolors that paid homage to St. Croix's white-sand beaches, stunning coral reefs, Carnival revelers in full regalia, and people wandering down cobblestone streets lined with shops.

When Tamia and Dominic arrived at the restaurant that afternoon, he'd steered her to a private corner booth and instructed the waitress to bring her a plate of curried goat, saltfish, and plantain. When her meal was served, he'd stuck around long enough to feed her a few delicious bites before he headed upstairs to conduct a business meeting with some investors.

“Are you still going to the fundraiser?”

Pulled out of her reverie, Tamia made a face and shook her head. “I don't think so.”

“Why not?” Honey asked. “You could take someone else, have a fun night. I heard there's gonna be a lot of celebrities and ballers there.”

Tamia scowled. “You know who else is gonna be there? Brandon and his fiancée.”

“Oh, yeah,” Honey mumbled sheepishly.

“Uh-huh.” Tamia sipped her margarita, absently thinking it could use more tequila. She could hardly taste any at all. “Anyway, girl, thanks for letting me know about tomorrow. I'll holla at ya later.”

As Tamia ended the call, she saw Dominic coming downstairs with a group of businessmen. They were laughing, chewing on cigars, and slapping backs in a manner that suggested their meeting had been a success.

After ushering the men to the door, Dominic started toward Tamia's booth in the corner. Along the way, he danced to the calypso music, moving his hips to a chorus of whistles and catcalls from his appreciative female customers. When one bodacious sista sashayed over and began grinding against him, the restaurant erupted in applause and rowdy cheers of approval.

At the end of the song, Dominic flirtatiously swatted the woman's thick ass and winked at her, making panties melt all over the place.

Watching from her table, Tamia could understand how Isabel must have felt being married to Dominic. He was a playa, a bona fide chick magnet whose irresistible sex appeal would awaken any woman's deepest fears and insecurities. It'd be impossible
not
to feel paranoid every time he was out of one's sight.

When he sauntered over to Tamia and flashed that wicked grin, she rolled her eyes at him.

He laughed, sliding into the booth beside her. “You mad?”

She sucked her teeth. “You wish.”

He laughed again as the waitress hustled over, serving him a bottle of beer before scooping up Tamia's empty plate.

“Did you enjoy your food, ma'am?” she asked with a musical West Indian accent.

Tamia grinned. “Are you kidding? I licked my plate clean.”

The girl beamed with pleasure. “Wait till you taste our coconut rum cake, made with the best Cruzan rum. You're gonna love it.”

Tamia's grin widened. “Bring it on.”

As the smiling girl moved off, Dominic leaned over and kissed Tamia's cheek.

She slanted him a teasing smile. “
You're
in an exceptionally good mood. I take it your meeting went well.”

“It went
very
well,” he confirmed.

“That's good.”

Once Dominic had been cleared as a suspect in his wife's murder, he had been able to collect on her multimillion-dollar insurance policy and recover his frozen assets, which were considerable. Since he was no longer under a cloud of scandal, his company's profits had begun to rebound, clients returned, and customers flocked to the new restaurant, keeping it packed every night.

“I like having you here,” Dominic said.

“I like being here.” Tamia grinned, patting her full stomach. “So does my appetite.”

Dominic chuckled. “I love a woman who can appreciate Caribbean food.”

“What's not to appreciate when everything tastes so damn good?”

Dominic smiled, loosening the knot of his tie as he leaned back against the leather cushions. He took a swig of beer, eyes glinting with amusement as he watched Tamia drink her margarita. She was convinced that she'd been given a nonalcoholic one by mistake.

“Can we go home after this,” Dominic drawled, draping an arm over the back of the seat behind her, “or would you like to stop somewhere and pick up more Christmas decorations? Perhaps a giant frosted sleigh to hang from the ceiling?”

Tamia's eyes narrowed. “You got jokes about my decorating skills?”

Dominic laughed. “You got my crib lookin' like a Christmas village with all those lights and shit.”

“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?”