Exposed (31 page)

They stared each other down for several excruciating seconds.

“I don’t understand something,” Tamia whispered tremu-lously.“If you didn’t know about me and Dominic, why have
you been messing up his business deals? I mean, you didn’t know for sure … right?”

Brandon smiled narrowly.“I suspected.”

She gaped at him. “So … you cost him a multimillion-dollar contract … based on a
hunch?
”

“That’s right. I wanted to rattle his cage, see which one of you would crack first. You know, the old divide-and-conquer strategy.” He sneered.“What’s wrong, sweetheart? You worried that he won’t be able to pamper you, keep you in designer clothes, whisk you away on exotic trips? Don’t worry. I haven’t bankrupted the nigga—
yet.
”

Tamia gulped hard at the realization that Dominic had been right. Brandon
was
vindictive, capable of a ruthlessness she never would have predicted.

Intercepting her thoughts, he said coldly, “Just remember one thing. I didn’t start this war. Your lover did. And you tell that punk-ass motherfucker that the next time he decides to fuck with me, it won’t be money he’s bleeding. Believe that.”

Tamia shivered at the ominous threat, even as she was reminded of the ball she’d already set in motion. She had to call Lou, tell him that she’d changed her mind. Before it was too late.

Brandon glared at her.“As for you, I want you to pack up your shit and get the fuck out of my condo—”

Tears flooded her eyes.“Brandon, please—”

“—first thing tomorrow morning. My mother raised a gentleman, so as much as I want you out of my damn sight, I’m not callous enough to toss a woman out on her ass late at night. But I have to get up early. So I want you long gone by the time I leave.”

Her heart ripped in half.“Please don’t do this, baby.
Please!
”

“I didn’t do anything.
You
did.” His eyes hardened with contempt.“I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight so you can get your stuff out of my closet. Don’t leave anything behind, or
it’s going straight into an incinerator”—he pointed from his chest to hers—“just like us.”

And without another word, he turned his back on her and strode furiously from the room. Moments later a door slammed shut, sending her crumpling to the floor like the house of cards she’d foolishly built.

“Damn, it’s good to be home.” Fiona grinned broadly and shoveled another forkful of syrup-drenched waffle into her mouth.“
Umm-mmm!
I missed the hell out of this place!”

Tamia smiled wanly, wishing she could match her sister’s enthusiasm. It’s not that she wasn’t thrilled to have Fiona back home. She was. But ever since Brandon kicked her to the curb on Friday, she hadn’t been in a very celebratory mood.

It was now Tuesday morning—the day after Fiona had been released from prison. Tamia had taken off from work to spend the day with her sister, which they’d kicked off at the Breakfast Klub. The hip soul food restaurant was best known for its signature dishes—catfish and grits, and wings and waf-fles. The surroundings were simple yet stylish, with the works of local artists showcased on the walls and both smooth jazz and gospel drifting from the stereo. Even at seven-thirty on a weekday morning, the place was packed, every table and booth occupied. It was worse on Saturdays, when the line snaked out the door and wrapped around the small building.

“I can’t
wait
to hit the Galleria and do some shopping after this,” Fiona enthused around a mouthful of chicken.

Tamia stared at her, wondering whether her sister’s incarceration
had deprived her not only of freedom, but of basic table manners.

But a moment later, she felt a pang of guilt when Fiona gave her a winsome smile and said almost shyly, “Thanks for footing the bill for the shopping trip. I really appreciate it.”

Tamia smiled gently.“You’re welcome, Fee.”

It was the least she could do, considering that she’d canceled Fiona’s surprise homecoming party at their favorite nightclub. Her life had been in such turmoil over the past eight weeks that she hadn’t had the time or desire to plan any sort of bash—big or small. Good thing she hadn’t invited anyone or hinted to her sister about it.

Fiona watched as she poked disinterestedly at her food. “Guess I’m the only one who woke up with a big appetite this morning,” she observed.

Tamia sighed heavily.“Afraid so. I’m just not very hungry.”

Fiona gave her a knowing look.“Would this have anything to do with Brandon ignoring your calls?”

Tamia glanced up in surprise. “How do you know about that?”

Fiona looked sheepish.“I overheard you on the phone last night, leaving him a message to call you back. I wasn’t eavesdropping,” she hastened to add when Tamia’s eyes narrowed.“I was coming to your room to ask you for some tampons. But then I realized you were on the phone, so I left.”

Tamia was silent, brooding over her coffee. She’d been too devastated and humiliated to tell Fiona what had happened between her and Brandon. But Fiona had been asking when she’d get to meet him, so Tamia would have to break her silence eventually.

“Why isn’t he returning your phone calls?” Fiona asked cautiously.

Tamia sighed, setting down her cup. “He broke up with me.”

Fiona’s jaw dropped.“
Whaaat?
When?”

“Friday.” Tears blurred her vision. “He found out everything.”

“Oh no,” Fiona said sympathetically.

And then suddenly Tamia was crying and blurting out the whole story, starting from the disastrous dinner party to the devastating showdown with Brandon. Fiona listened compassionately, passing napkins across the table so Tamia could blow her nose and dab her streaming eyes.

When she’d finished her account, Fiona murmured,“Damn, Tamia. I’m really sorry everything went down like that.”

“Me, too.”Tamia groaned miserably.“He
hates
me, Fee. You should have seen the way he looked at me. Like he couldn’t decide whether to strangle me or throw me out with the garbage.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Fiona consoled.“He’s just hurt and angry right now. Give him time.”

Tamia shook her head. “You don’t understand. He’s not going to come around. It’s over. I fucked up my future with the most amazing guy I’ve ever been with, and I have no one but myself to blame.”

Fiona didn’t argue, which only made Tamia feel worse.

Disconsolately she stared down at her plate. Her waffles were a soggy, syrupy mess and her chicken wings had grown cold. The story of her life.

Returning to her own meal, Fiona advised,“You shouldn’t give up so easily.”

Tamia made a pained face. “I’ve been blowing up his phone every day, pleading with him to take me back. I wouldn’t exactly call that ‘giving up easily.’”

“Damn, girl.” Fiona grinned ruefully. “Ain’t too proud to beg, huh?”

“For Brandon? Definitely not.”

They shared a quiet chuckle.

After several moments, Tamia reached across the table and squeezed her sister’s hand, something she’d been unable to do
for the past two years. When Fiona glanced up from her plate and met her gaze, she smiled warmly.

“I’m glad you’re back, Fee. Welcome home.”

“Thanks, Tamia.” Fiona grinned.“It’s good to
be
home.”

“Hold the elevator!”

Brandon stuck his hand between the sliding brass doors, prompting them to reopen as a petite, long-haired woman appeared on the other side.

“Thanks for waiting.” She stepped into the elevator, a Louis Vuitton purse slung over her shoulder.

Brandon stared in surprise.“Mrs. Archer?”

Isabel Archer harrumphed. “Not for much longer.” She turned and looked at him, her eyes widening with warm recognition.“Oh, hello. We met at the mayor’s fund-raiser dinner. Brandon Chambers, right? The lieutenant governor’s son?”

“Right.” He smiled, wondering if her husband had told her that he and Brandon were at war. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You, too.” Her expression soured. “Although these aren’t the most pleasant circumstances for me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Brandon waited for her to elaborate.

She did.“I just had a consultation with one of your firm’s divorce attorneys. I’m leaving Dominic.”

“Really?” Brandon injected just enough gentle concern into his voice to sound convincing.“That’s too bad.”

“Is it?” Her tone was bitterly mocking. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Brandon hesitated.“What do you mean?”

She glared up at the electronic monitor above the doors. “I’m fed up with his damn cheating. I’ve put up with it for years, but enough is enough.”

Brandon said nothing, keeping his expression carefully neutral.

But Isabel obviously needed to vent.“The final straw came a few weeks ago. He had the
nerve
to take his latest mistress home to St. Croix. I caught them having sex in the shower at the hotel where he was hiding her. Some ghetto bitch named Tamyra—”

“Tamia,” Brandon murmured.

“Yeah, that’s her name.” Isabel snorted, shooting him a disgruntled look. “That hussy must really get around. Don’t tell me
you
know her, too?”

“No,” Brandon said sadly.“I don’t know her at all.”

“I owe you an apology.”

It was late Friday night. Brandon and Cynthia were in his office, seated around a worktable littered with papers, reports, deposition statements, volumes of the U.S. Code—every manner of legal flotsam. They were poring through documents, silently passing materials back and forth. The trial started in three days. It was crunch time.

Without glancing up from his reading, Brandon mumbled distractedly,“An apology for what?”

Cynthia sighed.“For the way I’ve been acting lately. I’ve always prided myself on being a consummate professional, but my recent behavior has been anything
but
professional. After the way I lectured you about keeping your personal issues out of the office, it was hypocritical of me not to heed my own advice. So I owe you an apology.”

“Okay.” Brandon nodded, still not looking at her. “Apology accepted.”

“Thank you,” Cynthia said humbly.

A full minute passed.

He sensed that she wanted to say more, so he waited.

“You may have already heard that Tamia and I had a … disagreement at the dinner party.”

He nodded.“I heard.”

Cynthia sighed. “Well, some of the things she said to me cut deep … and I unfairly took out my frustration on you.” Her tone was self-deprecating.“I’m not proud of the fact that I’ve been consumed with jealousy ever since she told me that you’ve been buying her expensive clothes and jewelry and, uh, pleasing her in bed. I know I have no right to be jealous, but—”

“We’re not together anymore.”

Cynthia gasped.

Slowly Brandon raised his head and met her shocked gaze.

“Did you just say what I think you did?” she whispered.

He nodded slowly. “As of one week ago, Tamia and I are history.”

Cynthia gaped at him.“What … happened?”

His lips twisted into a bitterly sardonic smile.“Let’s just say she’s not the person I thought she was.”

“I see.” Cynthia pursed her lips, choosing her next words with care. “I’m sorry that you’re hurting—because you obviously are. But I’m not sorry that you and Tamia are no longer together. Honestly, I didn’t think she was right for you—and it has
nothing
to do with whether or not she has the right background, whatever the hell
that
means.”

Brandon nodded slowly in agreement.

Cynthia hesitated, then set aside the report she’d been perusing and inhaled a deep, steadying breath. As if she were shoring up the courage to speak what else was on her mind.

Brandon waited.

“Another reason I was so rattled by the argument with Tamia was that she called me out on something very personal. Something I’d been in denial about for a long time.”

Brandon remained silent, barely breathing.

Cynthia bit her lower lip, her eyes trained on his throat, as if she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. “I have feelings for you, Brandon. Very powerful … feelings.”

He swallowed, staring intently at her.“What about Shane?”

She shook her head slowly.“I’m not seeing him anymore. After the party I told him that I was being unfair to him, dating him when I knew that I was in love with someone else.” Her eyes lifted to Brandon’s.“In love with you.”

They stared at each other.

There was a long, charged silence.

Without a word passing between them, they got slowly to their feet.

Brandon started around the table. Cynthia met him halfway. And the next thing he knew they were wrapped in each other’s arms. Lips, teeth, and tongues mashing—sucking, licking, barely drawing breath.

Gasping, Brandon broke the kiss and knelt down, reaching beneath Cynthia’s skirt and yanking off the scrap of silk between her thighs. And then he was lifting her, and her legs were wrapped around him, her skirt bunched around her hips. The worktable was too low, not the right height. So he swung around and carried her over to his cluttered desk, shoving aside paperwork and files, not caring where they landed. He set her down quickly, and together they attacked his belt buckle and zipper like his pants were on fire.

And then his dick was stretched out between them, bobbing eagerly in anticipation, veins bulging. She stroked him, a slow, sensual caress, and he groaned with pleasure. Reaching down, he dug inside his pants pocket and fumbled out a condom from his wallet.

Licking her lips, she watched as he hurriedly sheathed himself. And then he was cradled between her beautiful brown thighs, her ankles crossed behind his back. Their stares locked as he entered her, burying himself deep. He groaned as she flung back her head and screamed in ecstasy. But it didn’t mat-ter. They were completely alone. No one would hear them.

No one would disturb this groove.

He began thrusting into her, giving her what she wanted, taking what he desperately needed. This woman had the
power to heal him, to make him whole again. If only he’d realized sooner.

But nothing else mattered right now. There was only this moment, this unleashing of raw, explosive passion … suppressed for so long. He groaned as he pounded into her, telling himself he’d be gentle next time. But she didn’t seem to mind in the least. She was as voracious as he was, hips bucking against his, nails clawing his back hard enough to tear his shirt into ribbons. She was wild and primitive, uninhibited in a way he never would have imagined. It ignited his blood, captured his soul.