Betrayal (33 page)

“They're gonna comb through our school records and pore over the cases I've litigated over the years. I didn't play for the good guys
—
I'm a defense attorney, so my methods have been far from squeaky clean. If there's dirt to be found, my opponents will find it and exploit it. For real, baby girl, we might not make it out of the primary with our skin intact. The odds are seriously stacked against us.”

Tamia smiled quietly. “When
haven't
they been? Yet here we are.”

Brandon held her gaze for a long moment. “That's true.”

“If you really want this, Brandon, I support you one hundred percent and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to help you win. I'm ready to roll up my sleeves and get to work creating campaign materials, scheduling press appearances, planning rallies
—
whatever you need, whatever you want.” She searched his face. “Do you want this?”

“I
do
want it,” Brandon asserted, gazing intently into her eyes. “But I want you more.”

Her expression gentled. “Oh, Brandon . . .”

“I'm dead serious, Tamia. If I have to choose between you and becoming a senator, it ain't gonna be a hard choice for me. I've already let too many external things keep us apart, and we've both suffered as a result. But those days are over. From now on it's just you and me, and fuck er'body else.”

Tamia gave a teary laugh. “That's right. Fuck er'body!”

Brandon grinned, then leaned down and kissed her. She sighed softly as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, gently licking and sucking hers.

When he suddenly pushed her back onto the bed, she laughed breathlessly. As he pinned her wrists above her head and laced their fingers together, she gazed up at him, her eyes shining with pure love.

Oh, hell yeah. Most
definitely
his ride-or-die chick.

“If you become senator,” she mused as he bent to nuzzle her throat, “I guess we'd have to find someplace to live in Washington, D.C. while Congress is in session.”

“Um, yeah, we would.” Brandon chuckled. “I mean, that'd be a long-ass commute from Texas to the nation's capital.”

Tamia giggled. “Don't make fun of me!”

“I'm not, baby. I wouldn't dare.”

“Umm-hmm.
Anyway
,” she said with attitude, “the reason I was making the comment is that I've never been to D.C., and I was just thinking it might be nice to live on the East Coast for a change of scenery.”

Brandon nodded, settling between her warm thighs. “I think you'd really like D.C. I lived there when I was doing my federal clerkship during law school. Got some nice neighborhoods. We can live in Georgetown or Dupont Circle, or I'll buy you a big-ass house in Virginia or Maryland. We can live wherever you want, sweetheart, as long as we're together.”

“Sounds hella good to me.” Tamia sighed dreamily. “
Fish don't fry in the kitchen—
”

Brandon laughed, recognizing the theme song from
The Jeffersons
.

He crooned the next line as he slid into her, and they spent the rest of the day making sweet music of their own.

“Oooh, girlfriend, you are blinding me with that
rock!
”

Tamia grinned, shaking her head at Marcellus. “You need to stop.”

“He's right, Tamia. That ring is
fiyah
.” Shanell wistfully eyed her own modest wedding band set and harrumphed. “Mark's gonna have to give me an upgrade before I upgrade
him
.”

They all laughed.

It was Tuesday afternoon. Tamia and Shanell had met for lunch, then headed over to the Third Ward for Tamia's appointment with Marcellus. After completing their tour of her childhood home, Marcellus had given Tamia a checklist of things to do before they put the house on the market.

The threesome now lingered in the empty living room chatting and laughing. It was inevitable that Tamia's engagement ring would become the topic of conversation, just as it had dominated the discussion between Tamia and Shanell over lunch.

Shanell had been stunned by the dramatic turn of events Tamia relayed to her. She'd furiously denounced Cynthia's fake pregnancy scheme, and squealed excitedly over Tamia and Brandon's engagement and baby news. When she heard about Bishop Yarbrough's conspiracy plot, she'd cursed up a storm and called her newly fired pastor everything but a child of God. Even though she'd been right about Dominic, Lou, and Honey, she hadn't said
I told you so
—which Tamia appreciated.

“Girl, I knew that man didn't love her,” Marcellus was saying to Tamia. “From the moment they arrived at my office that day, I could tell Brandon was just going through the motions with Cynthia. Then when we ran into you and ol' boy at the model house? Child, please. I knew that marriage wasn't happening.”

“I'm glad
you
were so confident,” Tamia said wryly.

“Are you serious? After the way Brandon reacted to seeing you with another man, how could
you
have thought he'd still go through with marrying Cynthia?” Marcellus snorted, shaking his head. “Anyway, I'm glad he came to his senses. I'm a good judge of people, and Cynthia gave me bad vibes from the jump. But
you
, on the other hand”—he winked at Tamia—“I liked you right away.”

Tamia smiled. “Did you?”

“Umm-hmm. I took one look at you and thought, ‘Now
this
is a real sista I can bond with.' And I must say, girlfriend, you got some badass cheekbones.”

Tamia cupped her face. “I do?”

Marcellus guffawed. “Don't be coy. You know you do. Who's doing your makeup for your wedding? I know an amazing makeup artist who'd
love
to do the honors.”

Tamia laughed. “I haven't thought that far ahead yet.”

Marcellus raised a brow. “I don't know why not. You only happen to be marrying Houston's most eligible bachelor. Any other chick in your shoes would already have everything planned down to the last detail. Tell her, Shanell.”

Shanell, who knew the trials and tribulations Tamia had endured over the past year, smiled quietly and reached for Tamia's hand. “This wedding has been a long time in the making. Trust me, Tamia will be more than ready when it's time to say I do.”

 

After parting ways with Shanell and Marcellus, Tamia drove to the Four Leaf Towers. She'd mailed Dominic a full refund for the business loan he'd given her. After receiving the check, he'd called and left her a terse message instructing her to pick up her things while he was at work. He'd left the key for her at the front desk, and the concierge was on standby to help her carry her suitcase to her car.

As Tamia entered the silent penthouse and headed to the bedroom to pack her belongings, she was glad she wouldn't have to deal with Dominic. After the way things had ended between them, she hoped she'd finally seen the last of him.

She should have known better.

“I understand congratulations are in order.”

She whirled around, startled to see Dominic standing in the bedroom doorway with his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his suit pants.

She swallowed nervously. “I thought you weren't going to be here.”

“I know.” He smiled narrowly. “I only told you that because I knew you wouldn't come otherwise.”

A whisper of foreboding snaked down Tamia's spine.

“Well,” she said, wheeling her suitcase toward the door, “I was just about to leave, so—”

As she tried to move past Dominic, he stepped into her path, blocking her escape.

She felt a moment of panic as she stared up at him. “What do you want, Dominic?”

He smirked. “I heard through the grapevine that Brandon finally popped the question. Looks like you're gonna get the fairy-tale wedding you've always wanted. Congratulations.”

Tamia just looked at him.

“So how you been feeling? You look great—your skin is glowing.” He smiled slowly. “Pregnancy really agrees with you.”

Tamia froze, staring at him. How the hell did he know about the baby? Shanell was the only person she'd told. Brandon hadn't even shared the news with his family yet.

Dominic chuckled, as if he'd read her mind. “I've suspected for a while now that you were pregnant. Why do you think I instructed my waitress to give you a virgin margarita that night at my restaurant?”

Tamia tensed as he reached out, stroking his hand down her cheek.

“Brandon must be so thrilled about the baby.”

“He is,” Tamia said tightly. “We both are.”

“That's good.” Dominic paused. “There's just one thing though. . . .”

“What?”

“He might not be the father.”

The words sent a jolt through Tamia. “Wh-what are you talking about?”

A cunning gleam filled Dominic's eyes. “Remember the night I met you at the restaurant when you were waiting for Brandon to show up? The next morning at your apartment, you asked me if we'd had sex because you couldn't remember a thing. Well, there's a reason you couldn't remember.” He smirked. “You weren't supposed to.”

A chill ran through Tamia.

She suddenly recalled the flashback she'd had the morning after they slept together at the bed-and-breakfast. In the vision, Dominic had been thrusting into her as he whispered, “
I'm never letting you go, Tamia. Never . . .”

The room spun.

Reeling with shock and horror, she stared at him as white dots danced before her eyes. “You . . .
raped
me?” she whispered.

He made a pained face. “
Rape
sounds so criminal.”

“You drugged me and had sex with me! That
is
rape—and it
is
criminal!”

“I disagree,” he said mildly. “I prefer to think of what I did as seducing you.”

“
Seducing?
You slipped something into my drink while I was in the bathroom!”

His eyes gleamed. “And then I drove you home and had your car towed back because you were too out of it to drive. Thankfully no one batted an eye at me carrying you from the garage up to your apartment. If anyone had asked, I would have simply told them you'd had too much to drink.”

Aghast, Tamia slapped him across the face as hard as she could. “
You son of a bitch! How could you?
”

A slow, satisfied smile curved his mouth. “You didn't complain or tell me no, Tamia. You thoroughly enjoyed our lovemaking that night. We both did.”

She eyed him incredulously. “You're
sick!
”

“Not sick,” he countered. “In love.”

“
In love?
This isn't love, Dominic! It's obsession!”

“Maybe,” he conceded. “Or maybe it's both. Whatever it is, I can't let you go, Tamia.”

“I'm not yours!”

“Maybe not,” he agreed, “but that baby inside you might be.”

“Oh my God.” Tamia pressed a trembling hand to her stomach, rocked by the realization that she might not be carrying Brandon's child.

“Once you got out of prison,” Dominic calmly explained, “I knew it wouldn't take you long to find your way back to lover boy. You'd only been home two weeks before he whisked you off to Italy. But once he got engaged to Cynthia, I realized I'd have another chance with you. Honey bugged your phone for me, so that's how I knew you'd be at Da Marco waiting for Brandon that night. I had to act quickly, and there was only one way for me to keep you permanently in my life.”

Tamia stared at him in horrified disbelief. “By getting me
pregnant
?”

“Of course. If the baby trap works for women, why can't it work for men?” He struck a thoughtful pose, lips pursed as he stroked his goatee. “So let's see . . . we made love on December ninth. When did you and Brandon hook up?”

December thirteenth
echoed through Tamia's mind. She'd counted back to the date when she'd realized her period was late. So that meant she'd had sex with Dominic and Brandon within four days of each other—too close for any doctor to accurately pinpoint when she'd conceived.

Dominic grinned, watching her do the mental calculations. “Since my boys were in the pool first,” he drawled, “you'd better hope they aren't strong swimmers.”

Tamia stared at him, her stomach roiling with nausea and dread. “I was crazy for ever thinking I could trust you. You haven't changed. You're the same evil, conniving muthafucka you were the day I met you!”

He flinched. “You're wrong. I
have
changed. Why? Because I found a woman worth changing for. We can be good together, Tamia—”

“
Are you insane?
” she shrieked. “I want nothing to do with you!”

Dominic smiled slowly. “If that's my baby you're carrying, you won't have a choice in the matter. You
will
deal with me whether you want to or not.”

Their stares locked.

As he let out a soft, menacing laugh, Tamia shoved past him and ran out of there as if the devil were on her heels.

No one could tell her he wasn't.

That afternoon, Brandon met Dre for lunch at Stogie's and told him everything that had happened between him and Cynthia.

When he'd hung out with the fellas on New Year's Eve, he'd just wanted to chill and put everything out of his mind for the evening—not that a thumping nightclub packed with drunk revelers was an ideal environment for sharing confessionals anyway.

By the time he'd finished his account over lunch, Dre was flabbergasted.

“Yo . . .” He breathed, shaking his head at Brandon. “That's some coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs shit right there.”

“Tell me about it,” Brandon muttered darkly.

“Damn, bruh. Lemme find out you almost married Sybil.”

Brandon couldn't help laughing.

“Yo, seriously. Cynthia's ass is straight-up psychotic. But you know what? Honestly—and this might sound bad—I'm not even surprised that she went there. You know she was determined to lock you down one way or another.”

Brandon scowled. “Yeah, but faking a
pregnancy
? That's beyond fucked up.”

“I hear you, man. But women do that shit all the time, unfortunately. What
I
can't believe is that Leah went along with it. She's always riding on her moral high horse, preaching the importance of integrity and doing the right thing. And here
she
is doing some shady shit like this.” Dre shook his head in angry disgust. “You think you know a person.”

Brandon snorted. “Right.”

“What I did to Leah was wrong—no doubt. But damn, bruh, she was gonna let you marry Cynthia based on a fucking lie. That's just foul, man. Just wrong on every level.” Dre wagged his head again, taking a swig of beer and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I didn't tell you that she called me on New Year's Day. Said she was ready to talk about how we can fix our relationship.”

“Word?”

“Yeah, man. But I don't know if I even
want
her ass back after she pulled this kind of crazy stunt.”

Brandon grimaced, sipping his beer. “It's your call. If I could forgive Tamia for cheating, you can forgive Leah for this.”

Dre grunted. “Maybe.”

As silence lapsed between them, Brandon glanced around and noticed that all eyes were glued to the television mounted above the bar. Joseph and Coretta Yarbrough could be seen scurrying from a pack of reporters hurling questions at them. The bishop's sex scandal had been dominating national headlines since the story broke on Sunday. Tamia's ex-friend Honey—the escort at the center of the controversy—had also been mercilessly hounded by the press, who'd followed her home to New Orleans after she'd skipped town to hide out with her family. The harassment she was receiving was her just due for betraying Tamia.

All around Stogie's, heads were shaking, tongues were wagging, and raunchy jokes were being cracked. Brandon had caught more than a few amused glances.

“Looks like you really dodged a bullet, Chambers!” someone called out, drawing raucous laughter and rumblings of agreement.

Brandon could only chuckle and shake his head.

“Fucked-up situation right there,” Dre commiserated. “How's your Dad handling it?”

“Not well,” Brandon said wryly. “His campaign is in full damage-control mode, trying to distance him as much as possible from Yarbrough.”

“I know.” Dre snickered. “I caught a few sound bites from his press conference this morning. He even made a point of announcing that you had already ‘parted ways' with the bishop's daughter before everyone found out about her father. He called Cynthia ‘unsuitable' for you.” Dre laughed, slapping the table. “Pops ain't playing—he's throwing the whole damn family under the bus!”

Brandon smirked. “How quickly the tide turns,” he drawled, thinking of the conversation he'd had with his mother yesterday.

I liked Cynthia, but I was starting to have my doubts about her,
Gwen had confided.
Once she started dating you, darling, she didn't seem all that interested in being a lawyer anymore. Now you know Chambers women are
not
ornamental housewives!

“With all the madness that's going on,” Dre observed, breaking into Brandon's thoughts, “you seem so calm and Zen-like. Happy, even.”

“I am happy.” Brandon smiled. “I asked Tamia to marry me, and she said yes.”

Dre's eyes widened. “
Whaaat?
You proposed?”

“Sure as hell did.”

“Wow.” A broad grin stretched across Dre's face. “Congratulations, man. I'm really glad to see you and Tamia back together.”

Brandon shot him a surprised look. “You are?”

“Absolutely.” Dre made a wry face. “You know I haven't always been Tamia's biggest advocate. But after seeing you guys together on that road trip . . .
man
. It was so damn obvious that y'all belong together, I don't know how I could have ever doubted it.” He smiled warmly. “You my boy, B, so I want you to be happy. It's clear that Tamia does it for you, so that's all that matters.”

Brandon's expression softened. “Thanks, man. I really appreciate your support. Just for that, I might make you my best man.”

“All right, nigga,” Dre said gruffly. “Don't go getting all sentimental on me and shit.”

They both laughed.

“If not best man,” Brandon drawled, “definitely godfather.”

“Godfather? What . . .” As comprehension dawned, Dre stared at Brandon in openmouthed shock. “Tamia's
pregnant
?”

“Yup.” Brandon was grinning from ear to ear. “I got the baby mama I wanted.”

Dre threw back his head and roared with laughter as Brandon grinned harder.

“This calls for another round of drinks,” Dre declared, signaling for the waiter before shaking his head at Brandon. “You've been a busy man, haven't you?”

Brandon chuckled. “You have no idea.”

“Oh, I think I do. I still remember the day Justin suggested you get Tamia pregnant so you could marry her. Your black ass got
real
quiet, and we could all see the wheels turning.” Dre grinned, raising his beer to Brandon. “To schemes and dreams that turn out the way we please.”

The two friends clinked bottles, then shared another warm laugh.

Sobering after several moments, Dre leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table. “Listen, bruh, there's something I wanted to—”

Suddenly Brandon's phone vibrated with an incoming text. He held up a finger, signaling Dre to wait while he checked the message, hoping it was from Tamia.

When he saw the photo that popped up on his screen, he almost choked on his beer.

Renay Portis had sent him a picture of herself posing provocatively in skimpy black lingerie.
“What the fuck?”

Dre eyed him curiously. “What's wrong?”

Brandon shoved the phone into his friend's face.

Dre spat out his beer, his eyes bugging out. “WHAT THE—”

Brandon scowled. “Yo, man, I didn't wanna tell you, but your moms came on to me that night I went to her house for dinner. That's why I left before you got back. She had on a negligee and everything. Shit was crazy. She called a couple days later to apologize, so I figured that was the end of it.” He pointed to the photo. “You need to handle that—or I will.”

Dre was already scrambling out of the booth, his phone pressed to his ear as he charged furiously away. “Ma,” he shouted, “why the hell you sending butt-naked pictures to Brandon?”

Several people at nearby tables burst out laughing.

Even Brandon had to chuckle as he deleted Renay's scandalous photo. It had definitely shocked and annoyed him.

But he was feeling so damn good about his future with Tamia,
nothing
could bring him down.