Betrayal (3 page)

“Nigga, please!” Tamia scoffed contemptuously. “Spare me your ‘I'm a changed man' bullshit. You haven't changed. You're just as sneaky and conniving as you were the day I met you.”

Dominic gave her a disappointed look. “Why is it that you expect Brandon to believe that
you've
learned from your mistakes, but you can't give me the same benefit of the doubt?”

“
Are you serious?
” Tamia sputtered incredulously. “First of all, our situations are completely different! I was minding my own damn business when you barged into my life and fucked everything up.
I
didn't go out of my way to hurt anyone—
you
did. So, no, you don't deserve forgiveness or the benefit of the doubt. And how dare you stand there and even speak Brandon's name to me when it's
your
damn fault that we're no longer together? Furthermore—”

“I can help you get him back.”

Tamia broke off mid-rant, staring at Dominic. “What did you say?”

“I said I can help you get Brandon back.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Dominic casually tucked his hands into his pockets. “Since I'm partly responsible for messing things up between you and—”

“
Partly?
” Tamia echoed in disbelief.

He gave her a knowing look. “Come on, Tamia. We both know you and Brandon were having problems before I entered the picture. Your relationship was built on lies from day one. You lied to him about where you lived, about your sister being in college instead of prison, about your past as a porn star. Yet for all your deception, you were frustrated because he was in no hurry to make more of a serious commitment to you.” Dominic chuckled softly, shaking his head at her. “Like I said, love, your relationship was already on the rocks by the time you met me. Otherwise you never would have agreed to our affair.”

Tamia frowned, knowing she couldn't refute anything he'd said and hating him for it.

“But since I caused you so much trouble,” he continued, “the least I can do is try to repair some of the damage. For starters, I want to help you get Brandon back.”

Tamia eyed him skeptically. “And just how do you propose to do that?”

He smiled wryly. “I'm sure you remember what happened the last time I came over here. When Brandon saw us together, he lost his damn mind—”

“—and fucked your ass up.” Tamia smiled narrowly, savoring the memory. “You had it coming. You violated the restraining order and tried to choke me.”

Dominic grimaced. “I'm not proud of my actions that night, but I had my reasons for behaving the way I did. The point is that Brandon went crazy when he thought you were sleeping with me again. If you want to get him back, make him think you're moving on.” He paused. “With me.”

Tamia's eyes narrowed. “If you think I'm gonna start fucking you again—”

“You don't have to.” Dominic ran an appreciative gaze over her. “That is, unless you really want to.”

“I don't,” Tamia snapped, pulling the robe tighter around her body.

Dominic smiled like he didn't believe her. “Anyway, we only have to pretend to be involved to make Brandon jealous. Once he sees us together a few times, he'll come running back to you.”

Tamia sucked her teeth. “You don't know that.”

“
I
would.” Dominic took a step toward her. “If I were Brandon and I knew there was a chance I could lose you to another man—especially a man I hated—I'd waste no time putting a ring on your finger. See, as long as lover boy thinks he has no competition, he can take his sweet time deciding what he wants.”

Tamia was silent, pondering his words. Hadn't her best friend, Shanell, given her the same advice not too long ago? Could Shanell and Dominic be right about Brandon?

“I know how men think,” Dominic drawled. “After all, I
am
one.”

Tamia looked at his stubble-roughened jaw . . . his washboard abs molded by the white undershirt . . . his thick, tattooed biceps.

She swallowed hard. “How are we supposed to ‘pretend' to be involved with each other?”

Dominic's eyes gleamed. “Does this mean you're interested in hearing my proposal?”

Tamia wavered, biting her lower lip. She couldn't believe she was even giving him the time of day. Hadn't she learned her lesson the first time? The man couldn't be trusted.

And yet . . .

“You've piqued my curiosity,” she grudgingly admitted.

Dominic smiled. “Like I've said before,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke her cheek, “Brandon Chambers is a
very
lucky man.”

Tamia pushed his hand away. “Don't touch me.”

He arched a brow at her. “Aren't you the one who jumped onto my lap five minutes ago?”

She scowled. “I wasn't thinking clearly. Seeing you on the sofa caught me off guard. Anyway, can we get back to the matter at hand? How are we supposed to convince Brandon that we're involved?”

Dominic smiled. “By becoming business partners.”

Tamia frowned. “Business partners?”

“Yeah. Do you remember the time you told me that one of your long-term goals was to start your own advertising agency?”

She nodded.

“Well, I'd like to give you the funds to make that happen.”

Tamia went still, staring at him. “Are you serious?”

“Very. If you hadn't gotten involved with me, you wouldn't have been charged with my wife's murder—which means you'd still have your job at Richards Carruth. I feel responsible for costing you so much, so I'd like to make it up to you by giving you the start-up capital for your business. That is, if you're still interested in going that route.”

“I am,” Tamia blurted, her heart racing with excitement. She'd always dreamed of running her own company. She'd spent seven years at one of the top ad agencies in Houston, so she already had the knowledge and experience to start her own business. And this was the perfect time to do it. Since getting out of prison, her job prospects had been practically nonexistent. She'd worked briefly as Brandon's assistant at his law firm, but once she'd learned that Cynthia was pregnant, she'd resigned from the position to spare herself the torture of seeing the couple every day at the office. Her stepfather, Sonny, had told her about a job opening where he worked, but the company had ended up hiring someone else. Though she'd been diligently sending out her résumé, she knew the odds of finding employment were stacked against her.

She needed to take matters into her own hands.

“I see those wheels turning,” Dominic drawled, watching her face intently. “I know you want this.”

“I do,” Tamia reluctantly admitted.

“Then let me help you. Not only can I give you the money to set up your business, but I can refer some of my clients to you. I already know of several who need the services of a good ad agency. And I know you can deliver, Tamia. The work you did for my restaurant was amazing. It was just what I needed.”

Tamia shook her head, raking her fingers through her hair. “I don't know, Dominic. This . . . this is a lot to consider.”

“I understand.” He smiled at her, then turned and walked over to the sofa to pick up his shirt. “Take all the time you need to think about my offer. I'll be waiting whenever you're ready.”

Tamia nodded slowly, watching as he shrugged into his shirt and fastened the buttons. She thought of the first time they'd met, when he'd showed up at her office and blackmailed her into becoming his lover. She must be crazy for even
considering
his new proposal, which sounded way too good to be true. For all she knew, he could be setting her up again. Did she honestly believe that he'd changed? Did she dare risk trusting him after everything he'd done to her?

With doubt gnawing at her insides, she followed him to the front door. When he turned to face her, she instinctively tensed.

He took out his wallet and removed a white business card, then handed it to her.

“Whatever you decide, Tamia,” he said quietly, “I want you to know that I truly
am
sorry for all the trouble I caused you. Even if you decide not to accept my money, I hope someday we can be friends.”

Tamia stared at him, shaking her head in confused disbelief. “Who
are
you?”

A glimmer of amusement filled his eyes.

Without answering her question, he turned and sauntered out the door, leaving Tamia more conflicted than ever.

Gripping a basketball in one hand, Brandon aggressively charged the net, leveling his shoulder against the defender guarding him. As Cornel grunted and reached up to block his shot, Brandon roughly shoved him in the chest. Cornel stumbled backward and hit the floor as Brandon made the winning layup, drawing a round of raucous laughter and groans from the gathered spectators.

“What the fuck, Chambers?” Cornel shouted, glaring up at him. “You pushed off!”

Brandon laughed, wiping his forearm across his sweaty brow. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Whatever, nigga.” Swatting away Brandon's outstretched hand, Cornel shoved to his feet and jabbed a finger at Brandon. “I'ma let that shit slide this time 'cause I know you ain't in your right mind.”

Brandon scowled. “Yo, fuck you.”

“Fellas, fellas,” Dre intervened, stepping between the two opponents. “The game's over. Let it go.”

“Easy for
you
to say,” Cornel grumbled darkly. “And just for the record, the only reason y'all won was 'cause your boy was hacking and pushing off the whole damn time.”

“Aw, quit crying,” Brandon taunted. “If your punk ass couldn't handle checking me, you shoulda let Justin do it.”

Cornel sucked his teeth, exchanging disgusted looks with his teammate.

Cornel and Justin, along with Dre, were Brandon's closest friends. After witnessing the fiasco at the courthouse yesterday, they'd showed up at Brandon's apartment today to find him slumped in front of the television, mindlessly watching old reruns of
Sanford and Son
. Trading worried glances with one another, they'd grabbed Brandon and hauled him off to the gym so he could burn off some steam on the basketball court.

Unfortunately for Cornel, he'd borne the brunt of Brandon's foul mood.

As a new group of players claimed the court, the four friends headed over to the bleachers and sat down.

“I want a rematch,” Cornel announced, swigging from a cold bottle of Gatorade. With his light skin, green eyes, and curly hair, he'd always been considered the pretty boy of the group. He was also ultracompetitive, a trait that served him well as a successful nightclub owner but not always on the basketball court.

Brandon wagged his head at him. “You don't want none of this.”

“Whatever,” Cornel retorted, stretching out his long legs. “That's why we shoulda let Cynthia's brothers go medieval on your black ass yesterday.”

As Dre and Justin burst out laughing, Brandon grimaced at the memory of what had happened at the courthouse. After he'd announced that the wedding was off, all hell had broken loose. Cynthia's mother had fainted, and while most of the guests had been preoccupied with her, Cynthia's brothers had charged after Brandon, shouting and threatening to whip his ass for hurting their sister. He could have handled two of them, but not all four. Fortunately Dre, Justin, Cornel, and Beau had had his back.

“And what about Bishop Yarbrough?” Justin joked. “Dude was so mad, I thought he was gonna pull out a damn rifle and go straight
Scarface
on Brandon!”

As the others howled with laughter, Brandon glowered at Justin. He was tall and brown-skinned, sporting neat cornrows and an abundance of tattoos. Born and raised in Houston's gang-ridden southwest side, he now worked as chief administrator of a community organization that addressed the needs of underserved boys.

Brandon had always admired and respected Justin. So he was willing to give him a pass for making light of his predicament. A temporary pass.

“Man, that was one of the wildest non-weddings I've ever been to,” Justin declared, shaking his head at Brandon. “The minute you walked into the room and I saw your face, I knew some serious shit was about to go down.”

“No kidding.” Cornel eyed Brandon incredulously. “I still can't believe you called off the wedding. What the hell were you thinking?”

Dre snorted. “You know damn well what he was thinking. He was thinking about Tamia.”

This drew loud groans from Cornel and Justin.

“You gotta let that one go, Chambers,” Cornel advised.

“For real,” Justin agreed. “Tamia's fine as hell, but she's
way
too much trouble.”

“And after the way she played you with ol' boy—”

“I get the point,” Brandon snapped.

His three friends exchanged glances.

“Come on, B,” Dre said. “You know we're just looking out for you.”

“I get that, and I appreciate your concern. But my relationship with Tamia is complicated, something none of you can understand unless you've walked in my shoes. Tamia and I have been through hell together. Some of that was her fault. Some of it was mine. But it doesn't matter anymore because at the end of the day I still love her, and if things weren't so fucked up right now, I'd make her my wife. So when y'all tell me to leave her alone, just know that I really don't give a fuck what you think. So you might as well save your damn breath and worry about your own issues 'cause I know I'm not the only one who has them.”

His heated tirade was met with dead silence.

He looked each of his friends in the eye, all but daring them to contradict him. When no one spoke, he clenched and unclenched his jaw, then downed the rest of his Gatorade like it was two-hundred-proof Everclear.

It was Justin who finally broke the heavy silence.

“If it's Tamia you really want—and I think you've made that pretty damn clear—you should just get her pregnant.”

“
WHAT?
” Dre and Cornel exclaimed.

Brandon frowned at Justin. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Yo, the only reason you're marrying Cynthia is because she's pregnant and you wanna do the right thing. If you get Tamia pregnant, then you could only be expected to marry one of them since, last I checked, polygamy is illegal in this country.”

Dre scowled in disbelief. “So let me get this straight. You're telling Brandon to have not one, but
two
baby mamas?”

“Yup,” Justin confirmed. “But only one of them gets to be wifey.”

Cornel gave a disgusted snort. “Nigga, you a damn fool. That's a terrible idea.”

“Is it?” Justin eyed Brandon knowingly. “Then why hasn't Chambers said anything?”

Dre and Cornel stared at Brandon.

“Please don't tell me you're actually considering this crazy shit,” Dre warned.

“Of course not.” Brandon brought the Gatorade bottle to his mouth before he remembered that it was empty. Frowning, he began picking at the label.

Dre regarded him suspiciously. “Don't even think about it.”

Brandon scowled. “I'm not. Now can you get the fuck off my back? Damn. And since you wanna front like you're some relationship expert, let's talk about you and Leah.”

Dre's face tightened as Justin and Cornel burst out laughing.

Last month Dre had been caught cheating on his girlfriend when she had walked in on him screwing Tamia's sister, Fiona. Angry and devastated, Leah had thrown Dre out of her house and changed all the locks. He'd been staying with his mother ever since, hoping Leah would take him back.

He shot an accusing look at Brandon. “Damn, bruh, why you have to go there?”

Brandon smirked. “Muthafuckas who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.”

“I wasn't throwing stones. I was just—”

“Whatever,” Brandon impatiently cut him off. “Back to you and Leah. Has she returned any of your phone calls?”

Dre sullenly shook his head. “I can't even get her on the damn phone. And when I went to the hospital to try to talk to her, she refused to see me. She instructed one of the nurses to tell me that the next time I showed up there, she'd file a restraining order against me.”

“Dayuum,” Justin commiserated, shaking his head. “That's messed up.”

“I know.”

Dre looked so miserable that Brandon couldn't help feeling sorry for him.

Cornel suffered no such compunction. “Oh, well. Guess that'll teach you not to fuck around in your girlfriend's house.”

Dre glared at him. “It was a mistake.”

“A
mistake?
Nigga, you were smashing that pussy while Leah was right down the hall taking a shower! That wasn't a mistake—that was some brazen kamikaze bullshit! You're lucky Leah didn't take a scalpel to your ratchet black ass.”

As Brandon and Justin cracked up, Dre closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands.

But Cornel wasn't finished. “Of all the women you could have cheated with, you had to choose a psychotic convicted felon who murdered two people, including her own grandmother.”

Brandon sobered at once. “A'ight, nigga, that's enough. Damn. You just never know when to shut the fuck up, do you?”

Cornel held up his hands. “Oh, my bad. I forgot that Fiona is Tamia's little sister. Hey, if she ever gets sprung from the joint, maybe you and Dre can have a double wedding.”

“Fuck you,” Brandon and Dre snarled.

Cornel laughed unabashedly.

“Before shit starts popping off,” Justin interjected, rising from the bleachers, “let's hit the showers and head over to Stogie's. I think we could all use a drink.”

“Good idea.” Cornel grinned. “Chambers is buying.”

“What? Why the hell should
I
pick up the tab?”

“ 'Cause you got the most money,” Cornel reasoned. “And after the way we rescued your black ass from Cynthia's brothers, the least you can do is buy us drinks.”

Dre and Justin grinned. “He
does
have a point.”

Brandon scowled, shaking his head at them. “I need some new friends.”

The fellas just laughed.

Later that night, Brandon was awakened by the sound of Cynthia quietly entering his bedroom. He lay completely still, listening to the soft rustle of her clothes hitting the floor before she padded over to the bed and slid beneath the heavy covers.

She settled onto her back, silent and unmoving in the near darkness.

Brandon watched her, waiting for her to speak.

“I couldn't stay away,” she whispered.

He said nothing.

“God knows I wanted to,” she continued. “After the way you humiliated me yesterday, I wanted to throw your ring back in your face and tell you I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth. I wanted to get as far away from you as possible.” She shook her head at the ceiling. “But I couldn't. Because I'm a fool. A weak, pathetic fool.”

Guilt settled over Brandon like a lead blanket. “Cynthia—”

“I spent the whole day at my parents' house. You would think I was on suicide watch the way my family hovered around me—making sure I ate, keeping sharp objects out of my sight, tracking my every move. I practically had to ask permission to use the bathroom, and if I took too long, someone would knock on the door to check up on me. But that's not even the worst part, Brandon. The worst part is that you didn't even bother to call or send a text to see how I was doing. You dumped me at the altar, then simply went about your business like nothing had happened.”

Brandon grimaced. “I didn't think you wanted to hear from me so soon.”

“I didn't. But that shouldn't have stopped you from making the effort to reach out to me. A woman who gets jilted on her wedding day deserves the courtesy of at least
one
groveling phone call from her contrite fiancé.”

Brandon pushed out a deep, weary breath and rolled onto his back. “I don't know what you want me to say, Cynthia. I knew you were angry and hurting. I didn't want to make matters worse.”

“I bet you would have called Tamia,” Cynthia said bitterly. “But then, you wouldn't have canceled the wedding in the first place if
she
were the one carrying your child.”

Brandon was silent, Justin's words echoing through his mind.
If you get Tamia pregnant, then you could only be expected to marry one of them....

“I hate her,” Cynthia hissed.

Brandon frowned. “Cynthia—”

“I know the Bible tells us to love our enemies, but I can't do that with Tamia. I hate her fucking guts. I wish you hadn't gotten her acquitted. I wish she'd been found guilty and received a life sentence. Hell, I wish one of the other inmates had gotten to her before the trial even started.”

Brandon's blood ran cold. “You don't mean that.”