Deception (Tamia Luke) (8 page)

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Authors: Naomi Chase

BOOK: Deception (Tamia Luke)
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Chapter 8
Brandon
After ending the call with Tamia, Brandon exhaled a deep, shaky breath and closed his eyes, tapping the phone against his forehead. His chest was tight with emotions he didn’t want to identify. Didn’t want to feel.
Despite his resolve to keep Tamia at arm’s length, he’d found himself picking up the phone and calling her tonight. He’d told himself that he was just checking up on her as a formality. But deep down inside, he knew the real reason was that he’d wanted to hear her voice. Once upon a time, their phone conversations had been the highlight of his day.
Apparently the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
“It’s not
that
bad, is it?”
Brandon opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder. An attractive brunette leaned in the doorway of his office with her arms folded across her ample breasts. She wore jeans tight enough to cut off her circulation, and on her feet were pink flip-flops that showed off a French pedicure.
She was watching Brandon with an expression of amused curiosity.
He smiled briefly. “Hey, Addison. How’s it going?”
“Good. Which is probably more than I can say for you. You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on those broad shoulders.” She smiled teasingly. “Don’t tell me you already regret making partner.”
Brandon chuckled. “Not at all,” he said, returning to his chair behind the enormous mahogany desk he’d recently inherited—along with a plush corner office, a $500,000 salary, and the prestige of being named an equity partner at one of the top law firms in the country.
Addison eyed him speculatively. “So it’s
not
the job that had you looking so miserable a minute ago?”
“Nah.”
“You must be having woman trouble, then.”
Brandon gave her a wry look. “If I were, do you honestly think I’d tell
you
?”
Addison grinned unabashedly. “I guess not, considering that your girlfriend and I aren’t exactly BFFs.”
That
was an understatement if Brandon had ever heard one. Cynthia and Addison had been bitter adversaries for as long as they’d worked at the firm. Although both women were talented, hardworking, and ambitious, they had zero respect for each other. Being drastically outnumbered by their male colleagues hadn’t united them either. If anything, their minority status made them even more hostile and vicious toward each other, like two feral lionesses fighting over the last scrap of unconquered territory.
It didn’t help that Addison had made no secret of her attraction to Brandon. Every time she looked at him, he half wondered whether he had a sign stamped across his forehead that read MANDINGO. He’d often caught her checking out his crotch and licking her lips, as if she were visualizing his big, black dick ramming into her pussy. When he made partner, she’d invited him out for drinks to celebrate. But Brandon was no fool. He knew that she had more than whiskey shots on her mind, so he’d turned her ass down. Even if he’d been tempted to cheat on Cynthia, he wouldn’t have fucked around with Addison. Though she was smart and attractive, he wasn’t interested in white women. Never had been, never would be.
“Speaking of Cynthia,” Addison said casually, glancing around as she wandered into the large room, “where
is
she tonight?”
None of your damn business
hovered on the tip of Brandon’s tongue. But he decided not to be rude. “She’s at a bridal shower.”
“Ah.” Addison nodded, lowering herself onto the sleek leather sofa near his desk. “I see.”
Something in her tone had Brandon’s shoulders tensing. “What does that mean?”
Wide green eyes blinked innocently. “What? I didn’t say anything.”
“You said plenty.”
Addison shrugged, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “I probably shouldn’t mention this, but a lot of people around here think Cynthia’s starting to lose her edge.”
Brandon frowned. “By ‘a lot of people,’ I assume you’re talking about associates.”
“Yeah.” Addison smirked. “You know, the lowly grunts who’ve been toiling away at this firm for years, hoping to join the exalted ranks of partner like you did.”
Brandon didn’t rise to the bait. He knew that many of his colleagues resented him for achieving the coveted brass ring of partnership. Some even believed that his wealthy, powerful parents had pulled strings for him. But Brandon knew better. Over the past eight years, he’d worked his ass off to reach his goal of making partner. He’d endured the long hours at the expense of a social life, had won the tough court cases, and had generated more business for the firm than any of his peers, bar none. He’d more than earned his promotion, and anyone who thought differently could go fuck themselves.
Which brought him back to the matter at hand.
“Why do people think Cynthia has lost her edge?” he asked, keeping his tone carefully neutral.
Addison sighed, as if it pained her to be the bearer of bad news pertaining to her rival. “Well, for starters, she hasn’t been logging as many billable hours as she used to. And over the past month, we’ve all noticed her leaving the office earlier than usual.”
“Not that it’s anyone’s business,” Brandon calmly interjected, “but she’s been helping with the preparations for her cousin’s wedding.”
“That may be so,” Addison countered, “but the perception is that ever since she started dating you, she’s gotten comfortable. She seems more interested in having lunch with you than scheduling meetings with her clients. It’s almost as if she assumes that she’s got it made because you’re her boyfriend, and now that you’re an equity partner, your vote will sway the others into making her partner next summer.”
Brandon laughed, shaking his head at Addison. “So that’s the meme that’s going around.”
She frowned at him. “What are you talking about? What meme?”
“The talking points everyone will recite to discredit Cynthia when she makes partner. You guys will say she was chosen because she’s dating me. Just like
I
supposedly benefited from who my parents are.”
Addison stared at him, a slow flush crawling up her neck to spread over her face. “Are you pulling the race card, Brandon?”
He met her gaze directly. “Are
you
?”
She looked affronted. “First of all, no one in their right mind would say you didn’t deserve to be made partner. If you hadn’t been chosen,
I
would have started a riot. Not only are you a kick-ass trial attorney, but you bring more revenue and prestige to this firm than most of the senior partners! You know how to network and schmooze with clients like nobody’s business. And, like it or not, it doesn’t hurt that your father will probably be the next governor, and Beyoncé—
BEYONCÉ!
—personally calls you up to have lunch whenever she’s in town. Are you kidding me, Brandon? The partners would have been crazy not to promote you, and whether they admit it or not, everyone knows that!”
By the time Addison had finished speaking, her face was beet red.
Brandon gave her a long, assessing look.
After a prolonged silence, a small, crooked smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “I guess you told me.”
Addison gaped at him for a moment, then burst out laughing.
Brandon chuckled. Addison might be Cynthia’s worst enemy, but one thing he’d always appreciated about her was that she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. He always knew where he stood with her, which was more than he could say about most of the other sharks he worked with.
As her laughter subsided, Addison sighed and shook her head at Brandon. “Seriously though, Chambers. I know you may think your girlfriend is being unfairly persecuted, but I’ve heard grumblings even from people who happen to be huge fans of hers. If my colleagues believed
I
was slacking, I’d want to know. So at the very least, I think you should give Cynthia a heads-up.”
Brandon inclined his head. “Maybe I will. Thanks.”
“Any time.” Addison grinned. “You know, Kessler was wrong about you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he said once you made partner, you’d start acting like you were better than the rest of us.”
Brandon scowled. “Fuck Kessler.”
Addison snorted. “Not even if you paid me.”
They both laughed.
Brandon’s cell phone rang. Seeing his best friend’s number on the caller ID, he plucked the phone off his desk and answered, “Wassup.”
“Yo,” Dre greeted him. “I’m about five minutes away.”
“Cool. I’ll meet you downstairs at Stogie’s. Justin and Cornel are running late—as usual.”
Dre said slyly, “So I’ll have you all to myself for a while?”
“Man, chill with that down-low shit before I tell Leah.”
As Brandon hung up on Dre’s raucous laughter, Addison snapped her fingers. “Damn. I was hoping you didn’t have any plans tonight so I could talk you into having drinks with me.”
Brandon sent her a wry smile. “Come on now,” he drawled.
“What?” she asked, rising from the sofa.
“You know you and I are never gonna have drinks together.”
“Why not?”
“Because around here, ‘having drinks together’ is code for fucking. And no offense, Addison, but I’m not interested.”
Her green eyes glinted wickedly. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
She sighed. “Can’t blame a girl for trying,” she quipped before sashaying from the office.
Five minutes later, Brandon had just boarded the elevator to head downstairs when Addison called out breathlessly, “Wait up!”
He instinctively stuck his hand between the sliding brass doors to prevent them from closing as Addison raced inside, a leather briefcase in one hand and a small gym bag slung over her shoulder.
“Thanks,” she panted with a throaty laugh. “I ran as fast as I could to catch you before you got away. With the elevator, I mean.”
“No problem.” Brandon pressed the buttons for the lobby and the underground parking level.
As soon as the doors slid closed, Addison began peeling off her skintight jeans.
Brandon stared at her. “What the hell—”
She laughed as she nearly lost her balance and had to lean against him for support to finish removing her pants. She quickly stuffed them inside her bag, then reached for the hem of her T-shirt.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Brandon demanded.
“Relax, handsome.” Her amused voice was muffled as she tugged off her shirt to reveal pale, melon-sized breasts barely contained by a skimpy lace bra. “I’m meeting some friends at the club, and I forgot to change before I left the office.”
“Likely story,” Brandon muttered, averting his eyes to stare up at the electronic monitor above the doors. But he was aware of Addison shimmying into a strapless black tube dress and stiletto heels, her sensual gaze willing him to watch her in the polished brass of the doors.
After what seemed an eternity, the elevator reached the lobby.
As Brandon stepped off, Addison said, “Oh, wait, I forgot to ask you something.”
He glanced back at her.
Pressing the button to keep the doors open, she grinned at him. “Aren’t you impressed by my perfect timing?”
“Sure,” Brandon said drolly. “You must have a lot of practice undressing in elevators.”
She laughed, combing her fingers through her tousled dark hair. “Not exactly. I just know how to multitask.” And she gave him a look meant to make him wonder how many
other
things she could do at once.
“What did you want to ask me?” he prompted, impatience edging his voice.
But she was suddenly staring across the lobby.
Following the direction of her gaze, Brandon saw Dre striding through the double glass doors and heading toward the entrance to Stogie’s.
“Isn’t that your friend Deondre?” Addison asked.
“Yeah.”
“Wow, he looks great. Not all black guys can pull off a baldie like he can. And he looks really buff, too. Has he been working out a lot?”
Before Brandon could shoot off some smart-ass remark, Dre glanced over and saw Brandon and Addison standing at the elevator. When Addison smiled and waved at him, Dre looked her up and down before raising his brows at Brandon.
Addison snapped her fingers. “Damn. Just that quick, I forgot what I wanted to ask you.”
“Then it probably wasn’t that important,” Brandon said wryly.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Addison grinned coyly at him. “If it comes to me tomorrow, I’ll give you a call.”
At the look Brandon shot her, she laughed. “Just kidding. Have a good time with your friends tonight.”
“Thanks. You too.” He sauntered off without a backward glance.

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