Exposed (27 page)

Perfect,
Tamia thought, an idea percolating in her mind.

Once she’d finished retouching her makeup in the powder room, she cracked open the door, poked her head out, and peered up and down the cavernous foyer. Satisfied that the coast was clear, she crept out of the powder room and started across the foyer toward the butterfly staircases. She wasn’t returning to the party just yet. She was going in search of Brandon, plagued by visions of him and Cynthia alone in some dark room, Cynthia’s dress hiked up around her thighs, her eyes closed and her head thrown back in ecstasy as Brandon fucked her against the closed door.

Gwen Chambers might not tolerate violence in her home, but that’s
exactly
what was going down tonight if Tamia caught Brandon and Cynthia screwing each other’s brains out.

Halfway across the foyer, Tamia heard voices approaching from the direction of the ballroom. Reacting instinctively, she reversed course and raced around the nearest corner, which led her down another long corridor. She ducked inside the first room she came to and quickly closed the door behind her.

When the servants’ voices passed by the door and continued down the hallway, she breathed a sigh of relief. The
last
thing she wanted was to be caught snooping around the mansion, especially by a member of the family. Gwen would swear up and down that she was a kleptomaniac who’d been casing the joint for priceless jewelry and heirlooms.

Lips twisting bitterly at the thought, Tamia glanced around the small, darkened room. Moonlight poured through a pair of French windows, washing over what appeared to be some sort of storage area.

Curious, Tamia ran her hand along the wallpapered wall until she found the light switch.

It was an old sewing room, she realized, taking in the antique desk and cabinet, vintage sewing machine, mannequin, and a collection of beautiful fabrics and patchwork quilts. Tamia’s grandmother had been a seamstress; as devoutly religious as she’d been, she would have sold her soul to have a sewing room like this, complete with the view of the lushly manicured gardens.

Smiling nostalgically at the thought of her grandmother, Tamia pushed away from the door and wandered over to an antique wooden trunk tucked into a corner of the room. Kneeling down, she unhooked the latches and raised the heavy lid.

Inside were masks.

Hundreds of them. Black, white, red, and purple—every color of the rainbow. There were elaborate Venetian masks adorned with gold and silver, as well as simple Harlequin masks made of satin. There were masks decorated with ostrich feathers and sequins, and sparkling gemstones and rhinestones.

“Wow,” Tamia breathed, slowly reaching inside the trunk.

There was a sound at the door.

She sprang to her feet and wheeled around, heart lodged in her throat. She watched as the doorknob began to turn, her mind racing with possible explanations to justify what she was doing there.

The door opened.

It was Dre!

Tamia exhaled a sharp sigh of relief and clutched a hand to her thudding heart. “Damn, Dre! You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry.” He smiled wryly. “Didn’t mean to catch you doing … whatever it is you were doing.”

Tamia laughed self-consciously.“It’s not what it looks like. I wasn’t snooping around or anything. I was looking for Brandon.”

Dre raised a brow. “In his great-grandmother’s old sewing room?”

“No, silly. Obviously I didn’t know what this room was when I came in here. Anyway, have you seen him?”

“Who?”

“Brandon.”

Dre hesitated for a split second, then shook his head. “Nope. Haven’t seen him.”

Tamia’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He paused.“Now that I think about it, he probably snuck off somewhere to catch the second half of the game. He was joking about that earlier when we were outside. He’s been attending these social functions all his life, so he’s gotten pretty good at schmoozing for a couple hours, then disappearing for a while.”

“Well, it would have been nice if he’d given
me
a heads-up,” Tamia grumbled, not entirely convinced that Brandon had snuck off to watch a basketball game. Not alone, anyway.

Hearing her disgruntled tone, Dre gave a low chuckle. “Don’t be mad at him. He probably didn’t want to pull you away from his mother.” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “I know how important it is for the two of you to bond.”

Tamia gave him a dirty look.

He laughed, his teeth flashing white against his dark skin. Solid and muscular, he cleaned up nice in Armani.

“Speaking of the honorable judge, she sent me to find you, said she wanted to introduce you to some college president. Fitz told me the last time he saw you was when he showed you to the powder room.” Dre gestured around.“What happened? You got lost on your way back to the ballroom?”

“No,” Tamia said defensively. “Your best friend was supposed to give me the grand tour, but since he went missing, I decided to do a little exploring on my own.” She stared him down defiantly.

Dre laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I was just following orders. You stick around long enough, and you’ll learn that when the judge says ‘Jump,’ your only response should be ‘How high, Your Honor?’”

Tamia could think of a few choice things she’d like Brandon’s mother to jump into, but she refrained from saying so. “We’ll go back in a few minutes. Now come in and close the door before someone walks by and sees us in here.”

Dre complied.

Turning away, Tamia knelt in front of the trunk once again and began sorting gingerly through the collection of masks. “So many of them,” she marveled.

“I know,” Dre agreed, wandering over with his hands tucked into his pockets. “Brandon’s great-grandmother made most of those masks. Her family was from New Orleans, so I guess she wanted to bring the spirit of Mardi Gras to her new home. Brandon says his great-grandparents threw a masquerade ball at least twice a year, a tradition that’s been continued by his mother. Hey, weren’t you at the New Year’s Eve ball?”

“No,” Tamia said sourly. “I didn’t receive an invitation to that particular soiree.”

“Oh.” Dre looked sheepish.“Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Brandon took me to New York instead. I’d always wanted to experience New Year’s Eve in Times Square, so we had a wonderful time.”

“That’s good,” Dre said, coming up beside her.

Tamia reached for a black sequined mask, held it up to her face, and turned to smile playfully at Dre.“What do you think?”

“Oh, shit,” he whispered hoarsely, staring down at her like she’d suddenly sprouted wings—or horns.

Tamia frowned, puzzled by his strange reaction. “What?” she asked, lowering the mask from her face.

Dre shook his head slowly as he backed away from her. “Ever since I met you, I’ve been trying to figure out who you remind me of. Now I know, and it’s so crazy I can’t even believe it.” He paused, gaping incredulously at her.“
You’re
Mystique!”

Dre’s stunned declaration sent Tamia reeling.

Of all the people in the world who could have watched my porn videos, why, oh, why did Brandon’s best friend have to be one of them?!

Feigning ignorance, she got slowly to her feet, nose wrinkled in confusion.“Mystique? Who the hell is that?”

But Dre wasn’t buying it—not for a second. “You know good and damn well who Mystique is. Hell, as many times as I’ve watched those videos, I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner.” His eyes narrowed, examining her features. “It must have been, what, seven years ago? Eight? You were younger, so your face was fuller. Rounder. And it’s been over a year since the last time I watched the video. Those are the only explanations I can give for why I didn’t recognize you sooner.” He looked her over, then quickly glanced away, as if he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Like remembering her naked.

“Shit,” he whispered again, passing a trembling hand over his smooth bald head. He looked shell-shocked.

Striving for composure, Tamia said in a low, measured voice,“Dre, listen to me—”

He cut her off.“When are you gonna tell Brandon?”

Aghast, she stared at him.“I-I’m not. I mean, I wasn’t planning to—”

“What?”
Dre exclaimed in angry disbelief.“What the hell do you mean you weren’t planning to tell him? You were a”—he glanced toward the closed door before dropping his voice to a sharp whisper—“fucking porn star! Don’t you think that’s something your boyfriend should know?”

“It’s not what you think.” The words tumbled out of Tamia in a panicked rush.“I needed money to pay for college. I couldn’t get enough in student loans, and I had to help support my family. I didn’t know what else to do!”

Dre frowned, his expression softening slightly. “Look, I’m not here to judge you or the decision you made years ago. You did what you felt you had to do at the time. But you also have to realize that your actions have consequences. I mean—damn, Tamia! If Brandon knew that his own friends had been jerking off to your porno videos, his mind would be totally fucked up! He’d be devastated.”

“That’s why he doesn’t need to know,” Tamia insisted. “Why hurt him needlessly?”

A look of disgust crossed Dre’s face. “You’re not worried about sparing Brandon’s feelings. You’re worried about losing your golden ticket into the Chambers family dynasty.”

“That’s not true!” Tamia protested vehemently. “I
do
care about Brandon’s feelings! I
love
him!”

“Then tell him the truth.”

Her throat tightened; her eyes were brimming with tears. “I can’t,” she whispered.

Dre’s expression hardened.“If you don’t tell him, I will.”

Stricken, she gasped.“You wouldn’t!”

“Give me one damn reason why I shouldn’t.”

Heart pounding, Tamia stared at him. “W-what are you suggesting? Are you saying you might not tell him if …?” She trailed off, struck by an awful suspicion.
Oh no. Not again
.

“What do you want from me, Dre?” she whispered. “Are you gonna blackmail me for sex—”

Dre’s mouth twisted contemptuously. “Don’t flatter your-self. You may be fine as hell, but Brandon’s been my best friend since we were eleven. I’d never betray his trust by fucking his woman. I don’t get down like that, and you damn sure ain’t worth losing his friendship over.”

Tamia flinched, stung by the harsh rebuke. “I just wanted to make sure—”

Dre interrupted with an impatient sigh. “Look, ma, this ain’t personal. I like you. I really do. But Brandon’s my boy, and we’ve always had each other’s backs. If he found out that Leah was keeping this kind of secret from me, there’s no way in hell he’d let that shit continue. So you need to come correct—or I’ll do it for you.”

“Please don’t, Dre,”Tamia begged, grabbing his arm in her desperation to appeal to him.“If Brandon finds out the truth, then it’s over between us. You
know
that. He’s gonna break up with me, and that will kill me! I’m serious!”

Exhaling a deep, frustrated breath, Dre looked her square in the eye. “Let me school you on something, all right? That nigga’s absolutely crazy about you. At first I thought he was just pussy-whipped, but over time I came to realize that he really loves you, Tamia. You might even be the one, know what I’m saying? And if you are, he won’t care whether or not his parents approve of you, ’cause he’s always been his own man. How’re you gonna feel if he pops the question to you one day and you’ve got this devastating secret hanging over your head?” His voice gentled, his eyes probing hers.“Brandon deserves to know the truth. And he deserves to hear it from you—not me or anyone else.”

Tamia stubbornly shook her head, tears streaming down her face.“Please don’t make me do this, Dre.
Please
.”

Clenching his jaw, Dre detached himself from her tight
grip and pointed a finger at her.“You’ve got one week to tell Brandon the truth.
One week,
and then I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

Threat issued and received, he turned and stalked out of the room without a backward glance.

Tamia was uncharacteristically silent on the way home.

Silent and tense.

Hands folded tightly in her lap, lips compressed into a straight line, she was more tense now than she’d been
before
she and Brandon arrived at the dinner party.

As a result, he found himself watching her stony profile more than the road.“So … how do you think it went?”

Tamia snapped her head around and stared at him as if he’d lost his damn mind.“
Are you serious?
How do I think it went? It went horribly, Brandon! Your mother hates my fucking guts!”

Brandon grimaced.“That’s not what she told me. She said you seemed like a lovely young lady.”

Tamia barked out a harsh, cynical laugh. “Which is snob-speak for ‘Don’t ever bring that low-class bitch to my house again.’”

Brandon frowned. “There’s nothing low-class about you, Tamia,” he said quietly.

“Tell that to your mother!” she snapped.

“I will.”

But Tamia didn’t hear him. “Where the hell does she get off looking down her nose at me?” she ranted bitterly, arms folded across her heaving chest.“It’s not
my
damn fault I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth! Just because I don’t come from a long, distinguished line of politicians and judges doesn’t make me worthless. I’m a good per—” Her voice broke and she averted her face to the window, angrily dashing a tear from the corner of her eye.

Brandon sighed heavily, ravaged with guilt and frustration.
“I’m really sorry you were made to feel inferior in any way, Tamia. Honestly, this is why I’ve been so reluctant to introduce you to my parents. I didn’t want to put you through this bullshit. I know how they can be.”

She sniffed.“Your father was charming as hell, but the way he introduced me to people made it sound like you and I are just fuck buddies. Like I’m just another bimbo you’re sowing your wild oats with until a
real
wife candidate comes along. It was so degrading.”