Betrayal

Here we are once again at the end of another Black Door novel, and though my name is solely on the cover,
Betrayal
would not have been possible without the following people:

Sara Camilli, who’s more than just an amazing agent, she’s also a friend!

My editor, Monique Patterson, your comments are always right on point. I truly enjoy working with you and the rest of the St. Martin’s Griffin team: Matthew Shear, John Murphy, Kia DuPree, and Katy Hershberger.

I’d also like to say thanks to the many publications, bookstores, book clubs, radio stations, and Web sites that have given me support, including Black Expressions, Urban Reviews, the National Book Club Conference,
Today’s Black Woman
, Afrocentric Bookstore, Voices of America,
Savionlife.com
, and Ginger Lynn and Christy Canyon of Playboy Radio’s
Night Calls
.

To my family, whom I love, love, love dearly, especially my Mom! Without you guys, I wouldn’t have made it this far. Thanks for propping me up when I couldn’t stand on my own!

I have the most amazing friends in the world, some of whom I’ve known since we were hanging out back in the day, trying to be grown! And some of you are newly minted. All of you guys are the best! One call (or text) and you’re there giving me your love, wisdom, and support. And I can’t forget my writer dawgs: Ron Shipmon, Dywane Birch, Eric Jerome Dickey, and Risqué, who know exactly what life is like in the creative trenches!

And thank you to the readers who always want more, compelling me to explore the depths of my imagination!

AS MUCH
as Trey tried to remain professional, from time to time his libido got the best of him. As the owner of the Black Door, an erotic club catering to the sexual desires of women, he seemed to be hard on a regular basis. He had been a good boy lately, but tonight he was feeling extremely horny. He hadn’t been laid in weeks. His girlfriend, Michele Richards, had relocated to Washington for professional reasons. In the beginning they saw each other every weekend; either he went to D.C. or she came to New York, but lately their passion had begun to wane. They were both busy with their respective careers, and unfortunately their love life suffered as a result. He tried to ignore the throbbing bulge in his jeans and concentrate on work, but was having a difficult time staying focused. Trey used every ounce of discipline he had to check the vendor invoices and write out the payments that he owed. He was signing his name to the bottom of the fifth check when the office phone rang.

“Trey Curtis speaking,” he answered with an air of authority.

“Hey, sexy,” whispered a seductive-sounding female voice on the other end.

Trey couldn’t help but blush from the compliment. “Who’s this?”

“Someone who’s been wanting to fuck you for a long, long time.”

His dick began to twitch as he listened to her confession. “Is that a fact?” he said nonchalantly.

“Yes, sexy, that’s a fact. So … are you still drop-dead gorgeous?”

Trey chuckled at the overused line. “Well, I don’t see any bodies lying on the ground, so I guess it’s a matter of opinion,” he said with a cocky assurance to his tone.

“Well, in my opinion, you’re one of the finest men I’ve ever met, and I’d love to find out what makes you tick.”

She still hadn’t revealed her identity and now he was really intrigued. Obviously it was someone who knew him, but wanted to get to know him better. “Are you going to tell me your name now or after you find out what makes me tick?” he asked, toying with her.

“It’s Lexi, Lexington Samuels. We met last year when I joined the club, and again at the grand opening of Hirschfield Multimedia Studios. I gave you my number that night; remember?”

Trey definitely remembered the beautiful Lexi. She was tall and lean with a nice rack. He flashed back to the night of the opening and remembered how Lexi’s black, form-fitting dress hugged her slim hips and dipped low in the front, exposing just enough cleavage to entice any man. Her hair was cut close, and was highlighted to match her caramel complexion. “Yes, I remember.” He smiled. Though she was supermodel gorgeous, he wasn’t interested in pursuing her. His untimely affair with another member of the club was still fresh, and at the time his wounds had yet to heal.

“Well, since Muhammad didn’t come to the mountain, the mountain has come to Muhammad,” she said. “I’m downstairs.”

“You’re here at the Black Door?” he asked, slightly surprised. It had been a little over a year since his last indiscretion and thankfully his wounds had totally scabbed over. Hearing the sound of Lexi’s sexy voice was piquing his interest. Besides, his girlfriend was safely away in another city, and what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt.