“No problem,” Tamia said, handing back the Sharpie.
Honey remained in her face. “If you’re ever interested,” she purred, “I’d
love
to have a threesome with you sometime.”
Tamia chuckled. “Thanks for the offer, baby girl, but I’m strictly dickly.”
“So am I.” Honey winked at her. “But I’d make an exception for you.”
Leaning back against the sofa, Tamia drawled, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I hope you do.” The girl licked her glossy lips and smiled, then slipped her arm through Lou’s as he led her away, his hand resting lightly on the thick swell of her ass.
Shanell stared after them, shaking her head in disgust. “I bet he’s fucking her.”
Tamia laughed. “Knowing Lou, that’s probably true.”
“She looks barely twenty-one.”
Tamia sipped her drink. “That’s how he likes ’em. Young, but not young enough to be considered jailbait.”
Shanell’s eyes narrowed shrewdly on Tamia’s face. “Did you ever—”
“No,” Tamia said, already anticipating the question. “I never slept with Lou.”
“Good,” Shanell said with such vehemence that Tamia laughed.
“Damn, girl. He’s not
that
bad.”
“Um, yeah, he is. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I definitely think he’s sexy. He reminds me of a younger Benicio Del Toro, right down to those hazel eyes and juicy lips. Girl, the first time he showed up to testify at your trial, I thought he
was
Benicio.”
Tamia chuckled. “He gets that all the time.”
“I’m not surprised.” Shanell frowned. “But as fine as he is, there’s something about him that rubs me the wrong way. I don’t trust him, Tamia, and I don’t think you should, either.”
Tamia sucked her teeth. “What’re you talking about? Lou and I are old friends. He’s always been there for me.”
Shanell gave her a look. “Just because he made you a porn star—”
Tamia took umbrage. “It was more than that. He really looked out for me.”
“Of course he did. You were making him money.”
“What about
after
I left his studio?” Tamia challenged. “He protected my identity even when he didn’t have to anymore.”
“Are you sure about that?” Shanell countered. “You said yourself that you still don’t know who gave Dominic your real name. For all you know, that scheming motherfucker might have paid Lou off. Or am I the only one who doesn’t think it’s just a coincidence that Lou shut down his film studio shortly after you went to prison—and now he’s living large?”
Tamia shook her head in vehement denial. “You’re wrong, Shanell. Voyeur Productions meant
everything
to Lou. He hated losing the studio, but he couldn’t afford to stay in business anymore.”
“Or maybe he was ready to conquer new territory and the payoff he received from Dominic opened new doors for him.”
Tamia took a long sip of her drink, wishing that she could dismiss her friend’s ugly suspicions. But Fiona’s devastating betrayal had taught her that she couldn’t put anything past anyone, including those who were closest to her. She didn’t want to go through the rest of her life questioning people’s motives, but if she couldn’t trust her own flesh and blood, who the hell
could
she trust?
“And that’s another thing,” Shanell continued doggedly. “How much you wanna bet that Lou’s ‘new business venture’ involves pimping out young girls like Honey?”
Tamia set her glass down with a thud and glared at Shanell. “This is supposed to be my homecoming party, but all you’ve done is talk about shit that’s bringing me down. Can you please give it a rest?”
Shanell looked taken aback. “I just—”
“I’m serious, Shanell. Don’t make me ask one of Lou’s bodyguards to escort your black ass outta here.”
Shanell’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”
“Think I wouldn’t?”
They stared each other down, then simultaneously burst out laughing.
Sobering after several moments, Shanell sighed and shook her head. “You’re right,” she said contritely. “I don’t mean to ruin your celebration. It’s just that I can’t help worrying about you. You’ve been through hell, Tamia, and I don’t want to see you get hurt again. You need to be careful.”
“I know,” Tamia said soberly. “And I truly appreciate your concern, Shanell. You’ve been more like a sister to me than Fiona, so I know you’ve got my back. But I’ve been looking forward to this night for months. So I just want to relax and enjoy myself. All right?”
Shanell nodded. “All right.”
“Thank you.” Tamia grinned, reclaiming her drink. “By the way, I think you may have missed your calling. For a minute there, I thought I was being cross-examined by a damn lawyer.”
Shanell smiled, but she was no longer looking at Tamia. “And speaking of lawyers ...”
Tamia followed the direction of her friend’s gaze.
When she saw who stood at the entrance to the VIP lounge, her heart thudded.
Brandon had arrived.
And he was very much alone.
Chapter 3
Tamia
“Hey, the rainmaker’s here!” Lou announced boisterously.
Brandon grinned and shook his head as a loud chorus of cheers and applause swept through the crowd. He sauntered into the lounge, oozing so much swagger that Tamia’s nipples hardened and her pussy creamed. She watched as he stopped to shake hands and chat with Lou and several members of Lou’s entourage.
After what seemed an eternity—but was probably less than three minutes—Lou pointed out where Tamia was seated. When Brandon looked over and met her gaze, Tamia’s pulse quickened. He flashed a lazy smile, and damn if her panties didn’t get wetter.
As he started toward her, she couldn’t help admiring his appearance. He’d changed into a fitted Versace suit over a stark white shirt with the top three buttons undone. He looked so delicious that Tamia couldn’t even blame the females whose lustful gazes tracked him across the suite.
“Dayuum!” Shanell exclaimed appreciatively. “That brotha is
hella
fine.”
“You ain’t never lied,” Tamia murmured.
When Brandon reached them, he bent and kissed Tamia’s upturned cheek. The feel of his soft, full lips had her clit throbbing at the memory of his mouth buried between her legs. She would have given
anything
to feel his long, thick shaft stroking her walls until she shattered and screamed in ecstasy. Making love to Brandon was all she’d thought about while she was locked up. That—and getting free.
“Wassup?” He greeted Tamia, sitting down beside her.
“Hey,” she said softly. “You made it.”
“Of course. Hey, girl,” he said warmly to Shanell.
She beamed at him. “Hey, Brandon.”
“Where’s your husband?” he asked her.
“Around here somewhere.”
“Why don’t you go see what he’s up to?” Tamia suggested.
Shanell eyed her blankly. “Why?”
Tamia gave her a pointed look.
After another moment, Shanell got the hint. “Um, yeah, let me go see what my man’s up to. That’s a
great
idea.” She set her plate down on the table and rose from the sofa, then winked at Tamia and Brandon before striding quickly away.
Brandon chuckled softly, watching her departure. “Subtle.”
Tamia didn’t respond. She was too busy soaking up all his fineness—six two with skin the color of dark chocolate, smooth black hair cut low to his scalp, deep midnight eyes, sexy dimples, and a manicured goatee that framed the most succulent lips Tamia had ever kissed.
Suddenly she realized that Brandon was staring right back at her.
“What?” she said self-consciously.
“That’s what
I
should be asking you,” he drawled. “You’re looking at me like I’ve got something on my face.”
Nothing but deliciousness
, Tamia mused with a smile. “Nah, you’re good. By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you that I really like your new goatee. But I thought facial hair was strongly discouraged at the firm.”
“It is,” Brandon said, stroking his chin. “But now that I’ve made partner—”
“—you can do whatever the hell you want, right?”
He grinned, flashing dimples. “Pretty much.”
Tamia laughed, shaking her head at him. “So it’s like that, huh?”
“Damn straight.” He nodded at the glass in her hand. “What’re you drinking?”
“A Blue Motherfucker.”
“
What’d
you call me?”
Tamia’s smile faded. “That’s the name of the—”
Brandon laughed. “Relax. I’m just messing with you.”
Tamia grinned, punching him playfully on the arm. It felt good to be on such friendly terms with Brandon again. After the way she’d hurt and betrayed him, she knew how lucky she was that he was even speaking to her.
Just then they were approached by an attractive young woman balancing a drink on a small tray. “This is for you, Mr. Chambers,” she purred, handing the glass to Brandon. “A neat scotch from Mr. Saldaña.”
Brandon looked across the suite. Meeting Lou’s eyes, he nodded and raised his glass in a small toast.
Lou nodded back and smiled.
Tamia watched as Brandon sipped his scotch, looking smoother than James Bond. One of the things she admired most about him was his versatility. Although he’d grown up in one of the wealthiest zip codes in Texas, he didn’t have a pretentious bone in his gorgeous body. He could discuss foreign affairs and commodity futures with the good ole boys at his law firm, then turn around and chill with the hoodest of hood rats. He was comfortable in his own skin, and he made no apologies for who he was—a proud, powerful black man who was on course to take the world by storm.
Cheating on Brandon was by far the stupidest thing Tamia had ever done in her life. But she had every intention of rectifying that mistake. Starting tonight.
“I’d like to propose a toast.” When Brandon met her gaze, she elaborated, “For the past several months, we’ve been so focused on the trial that I haven’t really had a chance to congratulate you on making partner. I know how hard you worked to achieve that goal, and no one deserved it more than you. So I just wanted to tell you how amazing I think you are, and how proud I am of you.”
Brandon’s expression softened with gratitude. “Thank you, Tamia,” he said quietly. “I appreciate that.”
“I meant every word.” She raised her glass. “Here’s to you.”
“And you. This is
your
night.”
“Which was made possible by you.”
Brandon smiled. “Okay, then. Here’s to both of us.”
Tamia liked the sound of that. “To both of us.”
They clinked glasses and sipped their drinks, staring at each other.
“I’m glad you came,” Tamia said.
“I told you I would.”
“I know, but ...” She trailed off uncertainly.
“But what?”
“I thought you might change your mind.”
“Nah. I wouldn’t have missed your celebration.”
“Thank you.” Tamia hesitated. “Cynthia couldn’t make it?”
“No.”
“Oh,” Tamia murmured. “That’s too bad.”
Brandon gave her a knowing look.
Smothering a smile, Tamia set down her glass and picked up her plate. She speared a meatball and brought it to Brandon’s mouth. “Taste this,” she said, watching as his lips closed around the fork. “How is it?”
He chewed slowly. “Delicious.”
“Yeah? They
look
delicious.”
“You haven’t had one yet?” When she shook her head, Brandon grinned. “Oh, so now you’re using me as your taste tester?”
“Yup.” She laughed and fed him another meatball, then deliberately licked the fork as he watched her. Satisfied that she had his undivided attention, she leaned back against the sofa and crossed her legs, observing the way his dark gaze lowered to her thick thighs. When he unconsciously bit his bottom lip, it was all she could do not to hop onto his lap, yank down his pants, and impale herself on his rock-hard dick.
Ignoring the hungry throbbing of her pussy, she ate one of the meatballs and asked conversationally, “How’s your father’s election bid going?”
Slowly Brandon lifted his gaze from her thighs. “Hmm?”
Tamia hid a knowing smile. “I asked about your father’s campaign. How are things going?”
“So far so good,” Brandon answered, settling more comfortably on the sofa with one arm draped across the back. “Since the election’s a year away, he hasn’t gotten into the heavy campaign season yet.”
“Not that he’ll need to do much campaigning,” Tamia drawled, setting aside her plate. “Everyone knows he’s the front-runner.”
Brandon smiled, sipping his scotch.
His father was lieutenant governor Bernard Chambers, one of the most powerful men in Texas. Earlier that year, he’d formally announced his plans to run for governor. Many Houstonians expected him to win the election in a landslide.
“And how’s your mother doing?” Tamia asked politely.
“She’s doing well,” Brandon replied.
“That’s good.”
Tamia knew that Bernard and Gwen Chambers had adamantly opposed Brandon’s decision to represent Tamia during the murder trial. They’d already believed that she wasn’t good enough to date their son. Once Tamia was arrested and sent to prison, they’d fully expected Brandon to wash his hands of her. But he’d defied their wishes, proving that he was his own man.
Which was another reason Tamia would always love him.
Glancing across the lounge, she noticed a group of scantily clad females huddled near the bar. Every last one of them was shamelessly eyeballing Brandon.
Tamia frowned, hoping she wouldn’t be forced to act a damn fool at her own homecoming party.
As subtly as possible, she moved closer to Brandon on the sofa, letting the pack of vultures know that he wasn’t available. While a couple of them smirked at her, the rest had the sense to look away, no doubt realizing that if Tamia really
had
killed her lover’s wife, she was the last one they wanted to be fucking with.
Seemingly oblivious to what was going on, Brandon smiled softly at Tamia. “So what are your plans now?”
“You mean now that I’m a free woman?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, for starters, I’m moving out of my house.”
“Really?” Brandon looked surprised. “Why?”
She hesitated. “I need a change of scenery.” She couldn’t tell him the truth, that after what Fiona had done to her, there was no way they could continue living under the same roof. Tamia wanted absolutely nothing to do with her sister. The sooner she severed ties with Fiona’s treacherous ass, the better.
“Where are you moving to?” Brandon asked.
“Lou found an apartment for me. I haven’t seen it yet, and he won’t tell me where it is, but he assures me that it’s perfect for my needs.”
Lou knew she couldn’t afford much. Her legal fees had all but depleted her bank account. After her final payment went through, she’d have just enough money to cover her rent for two months. She needed to find a job ASAP, but she knew this wouldn’t be easy now that she had a criminal record. And she could pretty much forget about landing another advertising job. No reputable ad agency would hire someone who’d just been acquitted of murder.
Observing her downcast expression, Brandon reached over and cupped her chin in his hand. “Look at me.”
Tamia met his gaze.
“Five months ago, you didn’t think you’d be sitting here tonight—a free woman. But you are. So don’t worry about what may or may not happen tomorrow. Enjoy this moment, and believe me when I tell you that everything’s gonna be just fine. All right?”
Tamia nodded, fighting back tears. “Thank you, Brandon. I couldn’t have gotten through any of this without you.” She hesitated, swallowing hard. “I’m so sorry for—”
Brandon pressed his finger to her lips, silencing her. “You don’t have to keep apologizing, Tamia. What happened between us is in the past. I’ve moved on, and so should you.”
Tamia stared at him, her mind flashing on an image of Cynthia bent over his desk as he fucked her from behind. The memory of what she’d seen that night still haunted Tamia, overtaking her thoughts when she least expected it. After the way she’d cheated on Brandon, she knew she had no right to feel betrayed because he’d slept with another woman. But that was exactly how she felt, and nothing would ever change that.
“Tamia.”
Jarred out of her painful musings, Tamia blinked at Brandon.
“You okay?” he asked gently.
She nodded quickly, then picked up her glass and drained the contents just as Keyshia Cole’s “Take Me Away” began playing.
“Oooh, that’s my song. Dance with me, Brandon.”
Before he could respond, she set down her empty glass, grabbed him by the hand, and led him over to the small dance floor, which was already packed with other couples. Tamia moved close to Brandon, sliding her arms around his neck as his big hands encircled her waist.
As they began swaying to the music, she looked into his eyes. “Do you know what this reminds me of?”
He smiled down at her. “Our first date.”
She nodded. “You took me to dinner at Da Marco, then we went dancing at your frat brother’s new club.” She smiled, reliving the memory of what had come afterward. They’d checked into a luxury hotel downtown, then spent the rest of the night fucking like the world was coming to an end.
Tamia sighed. “What a night.”
Brandon merely smiled again.
As they danced together, his hard, muscled chest rubbed against her breasts, making her nipples tighten. She cuddled closer to him and buried her face against his neck. The scent of his Clive Christian cologne teased her nostrils, smelling so damn good she wanted to drag her nose along his throat and inhale his skin off.