Betrayal (30 page)

Tamia sat curled up on her sofa, her legs drawn up to her chest. She was staring at a plastic stick gripped between her fingers, struggling to absorb the magnitude of what the colored lines meant.

Her phone rang beside her on the sofa cushion.

She glanced down, showing no reaction when she saw Dominic's number on the display screen. He'd been calling her since yesterday, starting from the moment he'd returned home and found her gone. She'd let his calls go to voice mail, not bothering to listen to any of the messages he left.

She'd been in a state of numb shock since learning about his involvement in Bishop Yarbrough's conspiracy plot. The fact that Dominic had been blackmailed didn't absolve him of blame, though Tamia could understand why he'd agreed to the scheme. She didn't know too many people who
wouldn't
have if given the choice between extorting sex from a stranger or going to federal prison. Dominic had done what was best for him, just as
she'd
done what she thought was necessary when she'd allowed him to blackmail her.

What bothered Tamia more than anything was that he'd been sleeping with Honey the whole time they'd been conspiring against her. When Tamia found Honey's underwear at Dominic's apartment, he'd told her that the panties belonged to a one-night stand, when in actuality he'd been screwing Honey for months. How could Tamia ever believe a word that came out of his lying mouth? She couldn't, because he'd proved to be downright shady and untrustworthy. With him, the next betrayal was always right around the corner.

When the phone stopped ringing, Tamia calmly picked it up and stared at the display screen
:
32 Missed Calls
.

She heaved a resigned sigh. It was clear that Dominic would keep calling until he'd spoken to her. Knowing that she couldn't avoid him forever, she reluctantly proceeded to listen to his messages.

In the first one, he sounded concerned but annoyed:
“Where are you? Is everything okay? You didn't say anything about having to run out. We can't be late to our own party tonight, so hurry the hell up and get home.”

The second message was all concern:
“All right now, Tamia, I'm getting worried. Where the hell are you? Do I need to call the police? Call me back or I'm doing a drive-by on Dashay and Jamila.”

By the third message, he'd obviously spoken to Honey and gotten a heads-up that he was busted.
“Tamia . . . I'm sorry. I don't even know what to say. I know I should have been truthful with you, love, but I couldn't. . . . I had no other choice. I was as much a victim as you were. Come home so we can talk about this. Please, love. Come home.”

This morning, while Tamia was in the bathroom puking her guts out, he'd left her a fourth and final missive: “
So you kickin' me to the curb but keepin' the fuckin' car I gave you, bitch?”

Tamia scowled, angrily deleting all of his messages.

When he called back a few minutes later, she picked up the phone but didn't say a word.

“Tamia?” He sounded relieved. “I'm glad you finally answered your damn phone. Listen, baby, I know you're upset and you have every right to be. But you need to give me a chance to explain. It wasn't my idea to blackmail you! And if you're mad about that little jump-off, don't be. She don't mean shit to me.
You're
the only woman who matters. In fact, the reason I bought you that engagement ring is 'cause I wanted you to get used to wearing it. I wanna marry you, Tamia.”

She stopped breathing for a moment.

Dominic sighed heavily. “Fuck. This isn't the way I wanted to propose. We need to talk, love. Face-to-face. I just pulled up in front of your building—the valet's about to park my car. Can you come downstairs and get me? You know they've been extra tight with security because of that note you got. So come down and get me so we can talk. All right?”

Tamia nodded slowly and whispered, “All right.”

She hung up and sat there, silent and unmoving. The plastic wand with the double pink lines was still clutched between her numb fingers.

Three minutes later, her phone rang again.

When she saw that the front desk was calling, she picked up.

“Miss Luke?”

“Yes,” she said tonelessly.

“Brandon Chambers is here to see you.”

Tamia's heart lurched into her throat.
Brandon is here.... Brandon is here....

“Miss Luke?” the attendant prompted. “Should I tell him you're coming down?”

Tamia closed her eyes and lay her head back against the sofa.

The attendant hastened to explain, “Even though Mr. Chambers's name is on the lease, we're under strict orders not to allow any visitors upstairs without proper clearance. It's for the safety of our residents.”

“I know.” Tamia swallowed tightly and opened her eyes. “I'm coming.”

She pushed to her feet and dragged herself to her bedroom. After tugging on a blue V-neck sweater and black leggings over thick socks, she padded to the bathroom to brush her teeth and gargle with mouthwash to remove the nasty taste that still lingered hours after she'd last vomited. Surveying her reflection in the mirror, she grimaced at her disheveled hair and puffy eyes. A good combing fixed one problem, but there was nothing she could do about the other.

Gnawing her lower lip, she contemplated the home pregnancy test she'd set on the counter. After a few moments, she picked it up and stuck it inside the cabinet beneath the sink. Turning off the light, she left the bathroom and headed from her apartment.

When she reached the lobby, she saw Brandon and Dominic glowering at each other from opposite ends of the reception desk. Brandon had his black gym bag slung over one shoulder, feet braced apart in a dangerously aggressive stance that dared Dominic to come closer for another ass whipping.

The security guard had positioned himself between the two enemy combatants, his hand resting warningly on the butt of his weapon.

Hearing the
ding
of the elevator, Brandon and Dominic swung their gazes around.

Tamia froze, and for one cowardly moment she was tempted to haul ass back to her apartment.

Taking a deep breath to shore up her resolve, she stepped off the elevator and began walking toward her two lovers.

They watched her intently, jaws clenched, postures tense as they waited to see who would be returning upstairs with her.

When she walked up to Dominic, his eyes gleamed with smug triumph. She took his hand and turned it over, then dropped the keys to the penthouse and the Porsche into his palm.

As he stared down at the keys in stunned disbelief, Tamia moved on to Brandon. He gazed tenderly at her as she took his hand and wordlessly led him toward the elevators.

“Tamia!” Dominic blustered in protest. “What the fuck are you doing? I told you we need to talk!
Tamia—
”

She and Brandon ignored him, staring at each other as they boarded the elevator.

The moment the doors closed behind them, Brandon dropped his bag to the floor. They pounced on each other, mouths clashing voraciously. Brandon lifted Tamia, and she wrapped her legs around him as her back hit the wall. He sucked her tongue and ground his hips against hers, making her pussy throb.

Gasping, she tore her mouth from his. “Wait, damn it.
Wait.
”

He stared at her, nostrils flaring, eyes glittering fiercely. “
I missed you
.”

The aching words, the raw need, the low register of his deep voice—they were enough to have her dropping to her knees, unzipping his pants, and swallowing him down her throat.

Somehow she managed to look him in the eye and say firmly, “We need to talk.”

He nodded. “We do.”

When the elevator arrived on her floor, he bent to pick up his bag without setting her down.

They gazed intently at each other as he carried her down the hallway. It was only when they reached her door that he reluctantly put her down, then stood close behind her as she fumbled to unlock the door.

He followed her inside, shutting the door behind them and dropping his bag by the foyer table.

As Tamia backed toward the living room, he stalked her step for step.

When she came to a stop, he stopped just inches away, so close that their breath mingled warmly and their heartbeats synced up.

His dark eyes roamed across her face, missing no detail. “You're still not feeling well,” he gently observed.

Tamia smirked. “Is that your polite way of telling me I look like shit?”

“Nah.” He smiled softly. “And you could never look like shit.”

She snorted. “Shoulda seen me this morning.”

He frowned, tenderly cupping her cheek in his hand. “What's wrong, baby?”

Her throat tightened at the endearment. Resisting the urge to rub her face against the warmth of his palm, she took a step backward and folded her arms across her chest. “Why are you here, Brandon?”

He stepped forward, closing the space she'd just created. “I came to see you.”

“Why? Because of the scandal involving Cynthia's father? Are your parents suddenly rethinking that whole family alliance?”

Brandon grimaced. “They are,” he admitted, “but that's not why I'm here. I would have come regardless of that story breaking.”

Tamia's eyes narrowed. “Does Cynthia know you're here?”

“It doesn't matter.” Brandon held her gaze. “I broke off our engagement.”

Stunned, Tamia stared at him. “You . . . broke up with her?”

He nodded. “For good this time.”

Tamia held his gaze another moment. As a choked sob rushed up her throat, she cupped a trembling hand over her mouth.

When Brandon reached for her, she tossed up her hand, stopping him. “No,” she whispered shakily. “Don't touch me.”

A shadow of pain crossed his face. “Baby—”

“I've waited so long.... I've waited forever. . . .” She inhaled a shuddering breath, looking at the ceiling and slowly shaking her head. “I've put myself through
so
much to have you, Brandon. And I just don't know . . .”

“You don't know what, Tamia?” His voice was husky with fear. “You don't know if I was worth the wait? You don't know if you still love me? What don't you know?”

She looked at him, tears blurring her eyes.

“Please don't do this to me, Tamia,” he whispered raggedly. “
Please
.”

She gulped hard. “I just need—”

“Hold on. Don't say another word.”

Tamia watched as he pivoted on his heel and marched back to the foyer. He knelt, unzipped the gym bag and pulled out a stack of DVDs and a small metal pail, the kind guys used to put beer on ice.

Puzzled, Tamia frowned. “What're you doing with all that?”

Brandon strode toward her, jaw set with steely determination. “Come with me,” he growled, grabbing her hand.

He tugged her across the living room to the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. He unlocked and opened the door, then pulled her outside with him.

Her eyes swept over the glittering night skyline before she looked at him. “Brandon—”

When he set the metal pail and the stack of DVDs on top of the small table, a chill ran through Tamia that had nothing to do with the cool evening temperature.

“Why did you bring the Mystique videos?” she asked faintly.

“Because I realized something tonight.” Brandon met her gaze. “Long before Dominic or Cynthia ever came between us, these videos were a tumor in our relationship, always festering beneath the surface. Because of these videos, Tamia, you were ashamed to let me know the
real
you. You convinced yourself that even if I could ‘accept' your humble beginnings, I could never accept that you used to be a porn star. Because of these videos, you were determined to hide your past from me at any and all costs. And it cost you dearly, sweetheart. It damn near cost you your life.” He picked up a DVD from the stack and held it up. “Because of these fucking videos, I was afraid to completely trust you because I was afraid of finding out something else you might have kept from me. But that's not your fault, baby. That was on me. Because
I'm
the one who made the mistake of letting you walk out of my life when you're the best damn thing that ever happened to me.”

“Oh, baby,” Tamia whispered as tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to spill over. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Brandon said fiercely, nostrils flaring as he cupped her cheek. “I love you and I need you in my life. So don't go no damn where.”

“I won't. I'm not.” She gave him a teary smile. “So what're you gonna do with the videos?”

“What I shoulda done a long time ago.” He scooped up the DVDs and dumped them into the pail, then whipped out a canister of lighter fluid from his back pocket and doused the stack of discs.

Tamia stared as he struck a match and gently warned, “Move back.”

When she obeyed, he tossed the lit match into the pail. The DVDs caught on fire with a soft whoosh and a flash of orange.

As thick smoke curled into the night air, Brandon stepped back, wrapped an arm around Tamia's waist, and kissed her temple. Together they stood staring into the crackling bonfire, watching the Mystique videos burn.

Tamia asked quietly, “Did you watch them?”

Brandon shook his head. “I couldn't get through ten minutes of the first one,” he admitted darkly. “But not because I was mad or ashamed of you. I couldn't finish watching it because I don't wanna see my baby fucking other men. Period.”