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Authors: Naomi Chase

BOOK: Deception (Tamia Luke)
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And with that, he turned and walked out, leaving Tamia with a sense of dread that was all too familiar.
Chapter 21
Brandon
“Where the hell have you been?” Cynthia demanded, accosting Brandon as soon as he stepped through the front door of his condo.
As proof of how angry she was, she still had on the tacky turquoise gown that she and the other bridesmaids had been forced to wear, which Cynthia had vowed to burn as soon as the wedding was over.
She apparently had bigger fish to fry at the moment.
“I left for
twenty
minutes to help Lynn get out of her gown so she and Phillip could leave for the airport,” she ranted. “By the time I came back to the reception, you were nowhere to be found! I had to catch a ride home with my parents!”
“Didn’t you get my text?” Brandon asked calmly, setting his keys and cell phone on the foyer table. “I told you I had to swing by the office to fax some important documents to a client.”
“That was two hours ago! Don’t expect me to believe you’ve been at the office all this time!”
“I wasn’t.” He paused. “I went to Tamia’s apartment.”
“I KNEW IT!” Cynthia exploded, glaring furiously at him. “You went over there and fucked her, didn’t you?”
“No.”
“I don’t believe you!”
“That’s your prerogative.” Craving a cold beer and a hot shower, Brandon brushed past Cynthia and headed to the kitchen to take care of the first need.
She charged after him, the loud swishing of her taffeta gown sounding like hissed accusations. “Why the hell did you go over there if you weren’t planning to fuck her? And don’t you
dare
tell me you didn’t touch her, because I can smell her damn perfume on you!”
Brandon grabbed a Black and Tan from the fridge and twisted the cap off the bottle. Leaning back against the counter, he met Cynthia’s gaze directly. “I didn’t say I didn’t touch her. I said I didn’t fuck her.”
“What!”
As Cynthia raised her hand to slap him, Brandon caught her wrist midair and shook his head once, a terse warning.
“I’ve had enough of that for one night.”
With a strangled cry of frustration, Cynthia yanked her wrist free and shrieked, “It’s bad enough that you showed up late to the wedding—”
“I told you I was with my father.”
“—but then you snuck off early to be with that whore! Like you just couldn’t help yourself!”
Brandon sipped his beer, silently pondering her angry words. Truth be told, she wasn’t too far off the mark. When it came to Tamia, he often felt as though he had no control over himself. When he’d arrived at her apartment tonight and seen her with Dominic, he’d lost his mind. If she hadn’t intervened, he probably would have killed that motherfucker with his bare hands.
“Don’t you see what’s happening, Brandon?” Cynthia cried shrilly. “She’s only been home a
week
, and she’s already coming between us!”
Brandon said quietly, “You need to calm down and lower your voice.”
“Why?” Cynthia jeered. “Afraid your neighbors will find out what a lying, cheating bastard you are?”
“I haven’t lied to you, Cynthia. I told you exactly where I was.”
“Like that’s supposed to make me feel better! If you see absolutely nothing wrong with leaving my cousin’s wedding reception to sneak over to your ex-girlfriend’s apartment, then I have nothing more to say to you!”
With that, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the kitchen.
Brandon took a long sip of his beer, then heaved a deep sigh and followed her.
By the time he reached the living room, Cynthia was marching from his bedroom carrying her suitcase. He had an unpleasant flashback to the night he’d returned home to find Tamia packing her belongings after she’d caught him and Cynthia flirting with each other at the office. He couldn’t help marveling at how things had come full circle.
As Cynthia strode past him, he asked, “Where are you going?”
“Where do you think?” she snapped. “I’m going home. I refuse to stay here and put up with any more of your bullshit. Unlike that bitch Tamia,
I
have standards. My parents have been happily married for forty years because they genuinely love, respect, and trust each other. So why the hell should I accept anything less from you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
Cynthia faltered for a moment, looking as if she hadn’t expected him to agree with her.
He lowered himself onto his favorite armchair and drank his beer, watching as she squared her shoulders and continued on her way to the front door.
“I’m sick and tired of being taken for granted. As I explained to you before, I have options.
Plenty
of them. But you obviously weren’t listening to me, so I’m gonna make a believer out of you.”
Reaching the door, she paused and looked over the huge, frothy bow on her shoulder. She frowned when she saw that Brandon had made no move to follow her.
“You must think I’m playing,” she spat.
“What I think,” he countered patiently, “is that you’ve been here at least an hour, so you were obviously waiting for me to come home because you want me to talk you out of leaving. But I’m not going to, sweetheart, because I actually think it’s a good idea for you to go back to your house for a while. We both need some space to reassess what we want out of this relationship.”
Cynthia stared at him with a stunned expression. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“That’s not what I said.
Now
who isn’t listening?”
She sneered. “You want space? Fine. I’ll give you all the space you want. But don’t be surprised if I’ve moved on by the time you come to your fucking senses!”
As she wrenched the door open, Brandon called out, “Cynthia.”
She turned back expectantly.
“I’m going to my parents’ house tomorrow after church. So you can stop by here and get the rest of your belongings. I’ll instruct the doorman to let you inside.”
“Don’t bother,” Cynthia hissed. “I can just use my damn key.”
“Nah.” Brandon shook his head. “You need to leave the key
now
.”
She let out an affronted gasp, her face twisting with indignant fury. “Why? Are you suggesting that I’m gonna run out tonight and make a spare copy?”
He just looked at her.
Sputtering with outrage, she snatched the requested key off her key ring and hurled it across the room at him, then stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to rock the walls.
Alone, Brandon took a long swig of his beer and allowed his thoughts to drift back to Tamia.
She was the only woman he’d ever truly loved.
And if he wasn’t careful, she would be his ultimate downfall.
Chapter 22
Fiona
Fiona hummed softly to herself as she sashayed through the glass doors that fronted the administrative offices of Pinnacle Sports Group. Since it was after hours on a Saturday night, the large reception desk was empty, the phone lines were silent, and the plasma television mounted against the wall was dark.
With a magazine tucked beneath one arm, Fiona left the plush reception area and made her way down a thickly carpeted corridor adorned with sports memorabilia, press clippings, and framed awards that the agency had received since opening last year.
When she reached the open door at the end of the hallway, she poked her head inside and smiled.
Beau Chambers sat behind a large, glass-topped desk talking on the phone. Spying Fiona in the doorway, he held up one finger, signaling that he’d be with her shortly.
She nodded and smiled again.
As Beau continued his phone conversation, his gaze took slow inventory of Fiona’s appearance. Her long black hair was swept over one shoulder, her pouty lips were slicked with MAC’s Nymphette lip gloss, and she wore a tan Juicy Couture shirt dress with matching leather stiletto boots.
She could tell by the way Beau’s eyes gleamed that he liked what he saw. And the feeling was definitely mutual.
With his dark chocolate skin, ebony bedroom eyes, chiseled cheekbones, and juicy lips, Beau was so damn sexy that Fiona’s coochie throbbed every time she saw him. His shoulders were as wide as Dwight Howard’s, and his hands were the size of dinner plates, leaving no doubt in Fiona’s mind that he had to be working with
at least
ten inches.
By the time he ended his business call and motioned her into the office, her pussy was pumping harder than her heart after a high-impact Zumba workout.
As she sauntered over to his desk, Beau leaned back in his chair and smiled at her, a diamond stud twinkling in one ear. “Wassup, girl.”
“Wassup,” Fiona purred, giving him her sexiest smile. “I just wanted to welcome you back and get your autograph.”
He raised a brow. “My—? Oh,” he said, chuckling as she dropped the current issue of
GQ
magazine onto his desk and pointed at the cover.
“You and Brandon look like straight-up gangstas,” she teased him.
Beau grinned wryly. “Don’t let my old man hear you say that. He’s been bitching ever since he saw this cover, asking us why we didn’t choose a ‘less threatening’ pose. He’s worried that the Republicans will find a way to portray us as thugs or some ish like that.”
Fiona laughed, shaking her head. “Your pops is trippin’. I
love
that photo. You and Brandon got the coolest swagger I’ve ever seen. And the feature article was amazing.”
“Thanks,” Beau drawled, idly flipping through the magazine. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“Most definitely.” Fiona grinned. “I want you and Brandon to sign my copy so I can take it to school and make all my classmates jealous.”
Beau tsk-tsked. “Now, that’s not very nice.”
“Oh, trust. They’d all do the same thing if they knew you and your brother.”
Beau chuckled, setting aside the magazine. “We’re having lunch with my parents tomorrow, so I’ll get Brandon’s autograph for you then.”
“Thank you,” Fiona told him, lowering herself onto one of the visitor chairs across from his desk. She deliberately crossed her legs, noting the way his eyes followed the movement and lingered on the luscious curve of her thighs.
Hiding a satisfied smile, she asked conversationally, “So how was New York?”
“Good.” His gaze slowly returned to hers. “Very productive.”
Beau had flown to New York to conduct business on behalf of some of his clients. While there, he’d also met with Damarion Griggs, a star quarterback and Heisman Trophy frontrunner who was expected to declare for the NFL draft in January. Not surprisingly, every football agent in America was salivating at the prospect of signing him.
Fiona grinned at Beau. “Do you think you can lure Damarion away from the competition?”
Beau smiled lazily.“Let’s just say I like my odds,” he said with such confidence that Fiona’s nipples hardened.
“He’d be crazy to sign with anyone but you,” she asserted.
“That’s pretty much what I told him.”
She and Beau laughed.
As the humorous moment passed, Beau asked her, “So what’s good with you? How are your classes coming along?”
“Great!” Fiona smiled shyly. “I just got an A on a history test.”
“Really? That’s wonderful,” Beau said warmly. “Congratulations, Fiona. I’m proud of you.”
She warmed with pleasure. “Thanks, Beau. I appreciate that.”
He snapped his fingers. “That reminds me. I brought you back a souvenir.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s just a little somethin’ somethin’ I picked up in Manhattan.” He glanced around the cluttered surface of his desk, brows furrowed with exaggerated bewilderment. “Now where did I put—Oh, that’s right.” He reached under the desk and retrieved an elegant bag that bore the Hermès logo.
Fiona’s eyes widened. “What is it?”
Beau smiled, passing the bag to her. “Open it.”
Fiona peered inside, then gasped when she saw an exquisite blue crocodile Birkin handbag. “Oh, my God! Is this what I
think
it is?”
Beau’s smile deepened. “Depends on what you think it is.”
She eyed him incredulously. “A
little somethin’ somethin’
? Beau, these handbags cost—”
“Shhh.” He put his finger to his lips. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
Shaking her head, Fiona carefully removed the Birkin from the bag and ran her fingers over the sumptuous leather. “I heard these are only available on a limited basis,” she marveled. “And they used to make you get on a waiting list. I can’t believe you bought one for me. I mean, I would have been happy with an ‘I Heart New York’ T-shirt or keychain!”
Beau chuckled softly. “Nah, baby girl. I don’t do cheap trinkets. Besides, you deserve nothing but the best for the way you keep the fellas in line down at the barber shop.”
Fiona grinned, tucking the expensive designer handbag into the crook of her arm.
Beau nodded approvingly. “You wear it well.”
“Think so?”
“Most definitely.”
Fiona beamed. Just as she began fantasizing about being worn on
his
arm, his cell phone rang.
Murmuring a quick apology, Beau answered the phone. “Hey,” he said, his deep voice dropping to a low, intimate tone as he angled slightly away from Fiona. “I’m still at the office, but I’ll be leaving soon.”
Fiona glanced up from admiring her handbag to watch as a slow, sexy smile curved his mouth. “Don’t worry, I won’t be late.” Pause. “Can’t wait to see you, too. Be there soon.”
Disconnecting the call, he shot Fiona a sheepish glance. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem.” She flashed a fake smile. “Got a hot date?”
“Mmm. Something like that.”
Fiona’s heart sank.
Beau’s womanizing reputation was another obstacle she’d have to overcome in her quest to become his wifey. Every time she turned around, there was some new trick in the picture. Unfortunately, with his dark good looks, sexy swagger, and multimillion-dollar bank account, Beau attracted even more groupies than his celebrity clients. And unlike Brandon—who’d monogamously dated Tamia for nine months—Beau showed no signs of turning in his playa card.
As he began straightening papers on his desk, Fiona suppressed a heavy sigh and reluctantly rose from the chair. “Well, I won’t hold you up. Have fun on your date tonight.”
“Thanks, Fiona. What about you? Got any special plans?”
“Nah. I have too much homework to do. By the way, do you mind if I use the receptionist’s computer? I need to print my term paper.”
“Sure. Go ahead. Dre should be around here somewhere. He said he had some paperwork to catch up on, so he’ll lock up after you.”
I bet he will
, Fiona thought darkly.
Forcing a bright smile, she held up her new handbag. “Thanks again for the Birkin. I’ve always wanted one. Now I feel like I’ve joined an exclusive club.”
Beau winked at her. “Enjoy your membership.”
On her way back to the reception area, Fiona saw that the door to Dre’s office was ajar. As she walked past, she heard soft kissing sounds and the low murmur of Dre’s and Leah’s voices.
Unable to resist, Fiona paused to eavesdrop while pretending to read a framed
Sports Illustrated
article mounted on the wall beside the doorway.
“Come on, baby,” Dre was softly cajoling. “It’s been over a month. I’m going outta my damn mind.”
“I know you are,” Leah said, “and I’m really sorry about that. But you know how exhausted I am when I get home from the hospital. This surgical rotation’s kicking my butt. Most days I don’t know if I’m coming or going.”
“Give me one night, baby, and you’ll
definitely
know you’re coming.”
Fiona rolled her eyes at the lame, corny-ass line.
“So come on, baby,” Dre continued. “Let’s go home and get down to business.”
Leah sighed heavily. “I’d love to, but we can’t. My period started today.”
Dre groaned. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am, unfortunately.”
“Shit. I knew that was gonna happen.”
“What tipped you off?” Leah quipped humorously. “The fact that it happens every month?”
“You know what I meant.” Dre let out another frustrated groan. “Let’s do it anyway. I’ll wear a condom.”
Fiona wrinkled her nose in disgust as Leah objected, “Hell, no! You know I’m not down with that, Dre, so I don’t even know why you went there.”
Dre grumbled darkly, “I went there ’cause I’m horny as fuck, and my dick’s about to fall off from lack of use.”
Leah chuckled drolly. “That’s not medically possible.”
“No? Tell that to my atrophied dick.”
Fiona snickered, then clapped a hand over her mouth.
But it was too late.
“Did you hear something?” Leah asked Dre.
Panicking, Fiona raced down the hallway before the couple could catch her eavesdropping.
Reaching the lobby, she sat behind the receptionist’s large desk and set down her handbag, then turned on the computer.
Five minutes later Beau left for his date, looking fine as hell in a charcoal Versace suit he’d changed into inside his private bathroom. As Fiona watched him leave, she couldn’t help envying the lucky bitch who’d get to ride his ten inches tonight.
Shortly afterward, Dre and Leah emerged from the back. When they saw Fiona seated at the reception station, their faces twisted with such displeasure, you’d have thought they’d just caught the hired help taking a shit on their imported silk bedsheets.
“What the hell are you doing?” Dre demanded suspiciously.
Fiona smirked at him. “What does it look like? I’m hacking into the network to steal personal data about our clients to sell to the tabloids.”
After exchanging uneasy glances with Leah, Dre snapped, “Yo, that shit ain’t funny.”
Fiona laughed belligerently. “Was to me.”
As she returned to proofreading her term paper, she saw Leah eyeballing her handbag on the desk.
“Is that a
Birkin
?”
“Yup.” Fiona gave her a smug smile. “Beau bought it for me while he was in New York.”
“Oh, really?” Leah shook her head, lips twisted disdainfully. “He should have saved his money. You don’t have enough class to own a Birkin.”
“Beau obviously thinks I do,” Fiona countered sweetly. “So fuck you.”
As Leah’s face reddened with anger, Dre quickly intervened, “Come on, baby. Let me walk you out to your car. The sooner I finish up here, the sooner I can meet you at home.”
As he began ushering Leah toward the doors, she glared back at Fiona. “I will be
so
glad when your ghetto ass gets fired.”
Fiona held up her new handbag, smirking triumphantly. “Don’t hold your breath, bitch.”
She laughed, watching as Dre had to practically drag Leah from the reception area.
After they left, Fiona finished proofing her paper, then sent the thirty-page document to the printer. She had to provide one copy to her professor and another to his assistant.
She was standing in the small copy room waiting to retrieve her print job when Dre reappeared. She pretended not to notice him, though she’d have to be blind not to acknowledge how good he looked in a gray pullover, dark jeans, and black Timbs.
“
Now
what the hell are you doing?” he demanded impatiently.

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