Betrayal (23 page)

Tamia's expression darkened. She remembered the night she'd gone to Brandon's office for a booty call and they'd ended up arguing after Cynthia casually mentioned that she'd see him at the fundraiser dinner. Tamia had known nothing about it because Brandon hadn't wanted to introduce her to his parents, who would be at the event.

“After I attended the dinner,” Dominic continued, “you asked me whether I saw Brandon and Cynthia there together, and I wouldn't tell you.”

Tamia stared at him, her breath lodged in her throat. Did she want to know? Did it make any difference at this point?

Probably not, but . . .

“Were they?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

Dominic met her gaze and nodded grimly. “They were. I don't know if they arrived in the same car or not, but they definitely spent the whole evening together. I know most people assumed they were a couple, and they seemed to be okay with that. I didn't tell you then because I didn't want to hurt your feelings.”

“And now?” Tamia's throat was tight. “Why are you telling me now?”

Dominic's expression softened. “Because you're so concerned about not being seen with me to spare Brandon's feelings, and I can't help wondering why you keep giving him the same courtesy he never gave you.”

Tamia stared down at the moist crumbs scattered across her plate.

She felt hurt . . . betrayed.

Maybe that had been Dominic's intention. Maybe he was playing her for a damn fool by making up lies about Brandon.

But if he was telling the truth . . .

Calmly lifting her eyes to his, she announced with quiet resolve, “I'm wearing red.”

A slow, approving smile spread across Dominic's face. “As I've told you before, red is
definitely
your color.”

Pinnacle Sports Group's fundraiser gala was held in the grand ballroom of the ritziest luxury hotel downtown. The premier event was attended by a who's who of powerful politicians, business leaders, philanthropists, entertainers, and professional athletes. The keynote speaker was Emmitt Smith, and VIP guests included Beyoncé and Jay-Z, who'd generously contributed to the five hundred thousand dollars' worth of scholarships that would be awarded to several inner-city youth athletes.

When Tamia and Dominic arrived, the ballroom was abuzz with glamorously dressed people laughing and socializing, posing for pictures, and giving interviews to reporters. White-gloved waiters wended through the perfumed crowd serving champagne and hors d'oeuvres. The linen-covered tables were adorned with elegant centerpieces of silver candles nestled by glass ornaments and frosted pine branches. A jazz quartet was playing classic Christmas songs.

Tamia was wearing the strapless red Versace gown Brandon had bought her in Italy.

The twenty-thousand-dollar gown he hadn't been able to peel off her fast enough.

The gown that clung dangerously to her curves and had a plunging back and a deep slit up to her thighs.

It was sexy.

It was scandalous.

It was perfect.

Standing beside her, Dominic looked like a gazillion bucks in his Brioni tuxedo. Tamia knew they made a stunning couple. When they entered the ballroom, heads turned, eyes widening with admiration.

Tamia felt a thrill of satisfaction that waned the moment she looked through the crowd and saw Brandon.

He and Cynthia were standing in a circle with Beyoncé and Jay-Z, Dre, Justin, and Cornel. Bey was as dazzlingly beautiful as ever, and Cynthia looked timelessly elegant in a midnight-blue evening gown. The brothas were immaculate in their designer tuxes, hands dipped lazily into pockets—every last one of them oozing swagger, charm, and testosterone galore.

Cynthia was possessively latched onto Brandon's arm, wearing one of those fake smiles that surfaced whenever she felt threatened by another female. Didn't matter that the female in question was a gorgeous megastar who only had eyes for her mogul husband. And it didn't matter that the gorgeous megastar and Brandon had been friends long before Cynthia ever came on the scene, to the extent that Bey had dedicated a song to Brandon and had given him cameo appearances in her videos. The warmer the camaraderie between the two old friends, the frostier Cynthia's smile became.

Tamia watched in quiet amusement as Brandon cracked a joke that had Bey punching him playfully on the arm. As he threw back his head and howled with laughter, Cynthia looked ready to lunge at the singer's bejeweled throat.

“Tamia.”

She turned to see Beau sauntering toward her, dark and dashing in a custom-tailored tuxedo with his diamond stud twinkling in one ear. As his gaze shuttled between Tamia and Dominic, a muscle throbbed in his jaw. For the first time since Tamia had met him, she sensed that he wasn't pleased with her.

She smiled brightly. “Hey, Beau. Did you get my message? I called to—”

“I got it.” His tone was cool, his eyes even colder.

She added nervously, “Well, like I explained in my message, Honey couldn't be here tonight. So I decided to, um, come with someone else.”

“I see that,” Beau said tightly. “I thought you might come with Shanell or another friend.”

“Nah, she decided to spend the evening with me.” Dominic smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement as he slid his hand forward. “Nice to meet you, Brandon's brother.”

Beau glared at Dominic's proffered hand like it was covered in shit.

“Everything looks wonderful, Beau,” Tamia quickly intervened. “What an
amazing
turnout.”

“It certainly is,” Dominic agreed.

Beau raked him with a scornful glance, his lip curled up into a snarl. Just when Tamia began to worry that he might take a swing at Dominic, he shifted his attention to her. His accusing gaze made her feel like the worst of traitors.

“I need to finish greeting my guests,” he said curtly.

“Of course.” Tamia forced another smile. “It was good to see you.”

As Beau bent to kiss her upturned cheek, he growled in her ear, “If anything goes down tonight, I'm holding you personally responsible.”

Tamia gulped hard.

He pulled back and gave her a disappointed look before moving off, shaking his head as he departed.

That was the moment Tamia began to second-guess her decision to show up tonight.

Dominic offered his arm to her. “Come on, beautiful. Let's go find our seats.”

She nodded wordlessly.

They started across the room, pausing frequently to speak to clients and acquaintances of Dominic's. If anyone was shocked or dismayed to see them in public together, they were too polite to let on.

Tamia and Dominic were walking behind a group of people making their way toward the front when the throng suddenly parted—and they found themselves practically face-to-face with Brandon and Cynthia.

Both couples pulled up short, as if they'd collided with an invisible wall.

As Tamia and Brandon's gazes locked, she stopped breathing.

He seemed to do the same.

Everything around them faded away as he ran his gaze over her, recognizing the gown she wore. Her insides trembled as she watched the range of emotions that flashed across his face—hurt, disbelief, bitterness, and fury.

Raising her chin, she defiantly stared him down, letting him know that this was payback.

His eyes narrowed.

Moments later, his expression went carefully blank, and he gave her a cool nod before moving on without a word of acknowledgment to her or Dominic. As he curved his arm around Cynthia's waist, she glanced over her shoulder and smirked triumphantly at Tamia.

“You okay?” Dominic murmured.

Tamia nodded, inhaling a shaky breath.

Suddenly this evening couldn't end fast enough.

 

Over the next three hours, she tried her damnedest to enjoy herself.

She ate with gusto, savoring the lavish meal of lobster, stuffed oyster, and braised duck. She smiled and chatted companionably with Dominic and the other women at their table, who couldn't stop complimenting her hair, makeup, and gown.

She was pleasantly shocked when Brooke Chambers made her way across the room and leaned over her shoulder to confide, “I know my brothers are on strike against you right now, but I just had to cross the picket line to tell you that you are rockin' the
hell
outta that dress. I've never been tempted to steal a bitch's clothes off her back until I saw you tonight. Watch out.” She winked before strutting back to her table.

When Tamia caught Joseph and Coretta Yarbrough glaring at her, she smiled sweetly and waved, taking satisfaction in their affronted scowls.

She listened with rapt absorption to Emmitt Smith's heartwarming keynote speech, applauding sincerely at the end. She got misty-eyed watching the scholarship recipients choke back tears as they thanked their mothers, coaches, and mentors for believing in them. When the beaming youngsters posed for a group photo afterward with Brandon, Beau, Dre, and Emmitt Smith, Tamia found herself on her feet with everyone else, heart swelling with pride as she clapped and cheered.

When Brandon looked out over the crowd and made eye contact with her, a shadow of a smile softened his expression before he glanced away.

After the scholarships had been awarded and closing remarks made, many attendees lingered to socialize and enjoy more champagne as they waited for the floor to be cleared for dancing. Christmas Eve was only hours away, so the mood was festive and relaxed, and the night was young.

Dominic leaned close to Tamia and murmured, “Did you have a good time?”

She smiled. “I did, actually.”

“Good.” His eyes glimmered. “Ready to go?”

She nodded, pushing back her chair. “Let me use the bathroom first.”

She left the ballroom and headed down the corridor toward the restrooms, her heels tapping against the gleaming marble floors. Reaching the ladies' room, she pushed the door open and strode inside.

She skidded to an abrupt stop at the sight that greeted her.

Brooke had Dre pinned up against the counter, her hands cupping his face as she kissed him ravenously.

Dre was groaning and moving his arms like he didn't know whether to push Brooke away or pull her closer.

Upon Tamia's entrance, they whipped their heads around and stared at her.

Dre looked stunned and guilt-stricken.

Brooke looked mildly annoyed. “Damn, I knew I should have locked that door.”

Tamia stammered, “Uh . . . I'll just, um, come back later.”

She backed quickly out the door, clapping a hand over her mouth to smother a hysterical giggle. She couldn't believe it. Dre and Brooke? Brandon would
kill
Dre if he ever found out about this!

Tamia didn't have time to dwell on the amusing scenario she'd just stumbled upon. The moment she reentered the ballroom, she was accosted by none other than Brandon's mother.

“I can't believe you had the audacity to show your face here tonight,” Gwen hissed, raking Tamia with a look of blistering contempt. “Have you no shame?”

Tamia was momentarily taken aback.
No, this bitch is not trying to start some mess!

“Actually,” she said, finding her voice, “your son invited me.”

Gwen's eyes narrowed. “I seriously doubt that Brandon—”

“Not him,” Tamia coolly interjected. “Your other son.”

Gwen's lips twisted with angry displeasure. “Beau always did have a penchant for bringing home riffraff. But it seems that even
his
standards have sunk to an appalling low this time.”

The vicious barb stung Tamia like a slap across the face.

“I don't know what you hoped to accomplish by coming tonight,” Gwen said coldly, “but all you've succeeded in doing is making yourself look weak, petty, and desperate. And there's nothing my son despises more than a weak, petty, and desperate woman.”

“Really?” Tamia jeered. “Then why is he marrying Cynthia?”

Gwen looked outraged. “
What!
How
dare
you speak disrespectfully of Cynthia! She's not the one who made a living as a filthy porn star, then tried to cover her tracks by prostituting herself to a married man. She's not the one who lied and schemed her way into my son's life for the sole purpose of getting her hands on his fortune. For you to have the unmitigated gall to stand there and insult Cynthia shows just how utterly shameless you are. I don't care how many designer gowns or expensive jewels men shower upon you. You will never be
half
the woman that Cynthia is.”

Tamia smirked. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I've never used Cynthia Yarbrough as a yardstick for ideal womanhood.”

Gwen sneered. “You think you're so clever, don't you? It sickens me to think of how close you came to stealing Brandon away from Cynthia. But I now realize I needn't have ever worried. You see, Tamia, beautiful sluts like you will always be the Marilyn Monroes to the Jackie Kennedys of the world. Why? Because being a mistress and a whore is all you're good for.”

Tamia didn't so much as flinch, though the venomous slurs hurt.
God
, how they hurt. But she refused to give this ruthless shark the satisfaction of smelling her blood in the water.

Gwen gave her a look of icy disdain. “If you had an ounce of pride or dignity, you'd take that whoremongering piece of gutter trash with you and leave these premises at once.”

Tamia smiled narrowly. “Last I checked, Judge Chambers, this isn't your courtroom. So you have no right to dictate who stays or goes. By the way, how
are
things going on the bench these days? Offered any bribes recently?”

Gwen's face tightened at the unmistakable reference to her thwarted attempt to pay off Tamia to leave Brandon alone.

Stepping closer to Tamia, she hissed sharply, “You spiteful little bitch. Are you threatening me?”

“Not at all. I'm just reminding you that I hold some cards of my own.” Tamia leaned closer. “And trust me, you haven't
begun
to see what a spiteful bitch I can be.”

A flicker of alarm flashed in Gwen's eyes.

Tamia smiled sweetly. “Enjoy what's left of the evening. You can be sure I will.”

And with that she spun on her heel and strolled from the room, leaving Gwen to stare after her with a look of stunned fury.