Exposed (23 page)

“No.” He didn’t elaborate right away, silently contemplating the rib he’d just picked up. After several nerve-stretching moments, his eyes met hers.“Cynthia’s going with me.”

Tamia’s heart plummeted.“I see.”

Brandon was silent.

A few weeks ago, he would have offered assurances that nothing would happen between him and Cynthia, that they’d sleep in separate hotels and take separate cabs everywhere—anything to alleviate Tamia’s insecurities.

But tonight he was silent.

And she knew she had no right to expect otherwise.

She stared disinterestedly at the pile of food on her plate, having lost her appetite. “When will you be back?” she asked quietly.

“Friday,” he replied.

She nodded slowly.“Okay.”

He frowned, watching her pick at a slice of brisket. “I thought you said you were starving.”

“I was,” she mumbled.

“Then eat your food.”

“I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Eat anyway,” he commanded. “You’ve been losing too much weight lately.”

Her head came up.“You’ve noticed?”

“Of course.” He met her surprised stare. “I notice everything.”

She swallowed hard, unsettled by the thought.

He dipped into the creamed corn, leaned across the table, and fed her a spoonful. “If I wanted a skinny woman,” he drawled softly,“I’d be with Cynthia.”

He winked at her.

And Tamia laughed,
her
first real laugh in weeks.

That night they made love for the first time in nearly a month. It was incredible. Both of them were insatiable, feasting on each other with the desperate abandon of long-lost lovers.

Afterward they lay spent in each other’s arms, sweat cooling on their bodies, legs tangled beneath the covers that Brandon had drawn up to their waists. Neither spoke for several minutes, as if they were afraid that words would shatter the connection they’d just rediscovered.

It was Brandon who finally broke the silence.“I’ve missed making love to you,” he said quietly.

Tamia’s heart squeezed with guilt.“I’ve missed making love to you, too.”

He was silent for another moment.“Next Saturday marks nine months that we’ve been together. Do you realize that?”

“Of course. How could I not? Meeting you changed my life, Brandon. I truly mean that.”

“You changed my life, too.” His voice softened. “I don’t know what’s going on with us, don’t know what went wrong or why. But … I hope we can get back to the way things used to be … before it’s too late.”

Tamia swallowed painfully as tears swam into her eyes.

“Me, too,” she whispered.

In the ensuing silence, she wished that she could come clean. Just tell Brandon the truth about everything. He obviously hadn’t uncovered her secrets yet, or he wouldn’t be lying
in bed with her right now. So she still had a chance to confess, to unburden herself and try to salvage the best thing that had ever happened to her. Brandon would be angry and devastated, but maybe, in time, he would forgive her.

Or maybe not …

“My father has decided to run for governor,” Brandon said suddenly, interrupting her reverie.

“Really?” Tamia exclaimed. “That’s wonderful, Brandon. You and your family must be so excited.”

“We are.” He chuckled wryly.“I’m not looking forward to living under a microscope during the campaign, not to mention the years of scrutiny that would follow if he wins the election. But I know how much this means to Dad, so I’m willing to make the sacrifice.”

Tamia kissed his shoulder, then snuggled closer. “You’re a wonderful son, Brandon.”

“I try to be.” He brushed his lips across her temple.“Any-way, my parents are officially kicking off the campaign with a dinner party at their house this Saturday.” He paused.“They’ve asked me to invite you.”

Stunned, Tamia raised her head and stared at his shadowy face.“Are you serious?”

“Very.”There was a rueful smile in his voice. “One of the law firm’s founding partners belongs to the River Oaks Country Club, along with my parents. He told my father about meeting you at several company functions. I’m embarrassed to admit that I’m not the one who told my parents about you, Tamia. But believe me when I tell you that my reason had nothing to do with me not thinking you’re good enough. My parents are real barracudas when it comes to matters of class and social status.”

“I know.”Tamia smiled in the near darkness. “You’ve told me a thousand times.”

“I know.” Brandon sighed heavily, his warm breath fanning
her face. “If you really think you’re up for the interrogation, then I’d love for you to meet them on Saturday.”

Tamia’s heart was racing with excitement. This was the moment she’d been waiting for, the opportunity to meet Brandon’s parents and show them how right she was for their son. Winning their approval would bring her one step closer to achieving her goal of becoming Mrs. Brandon Chambers. She could hardly believe it. After everything that had happened over the past six weeks, she still had a chance to walk away with the ultimate prize!

“So what do you say?” Brandon prompted, gently stroking her hair.“Are you up for being grilled by the lieutenant governor and his wife on Saturday?”

Given the scandalous secrets she’d been harboring, the thought of being interrogated by such a powerful couple should have struck sheer terror in Tamia’s heart.

But she merely smiled and said,“I’m not only up for it, I’m looking forward to it.”

“You need to watch your back.”

Those were the first words out of Fiona’s mouth when she called Tamia two nights later. Tamia had just stepped through the front door of Brandon’s condo when her cell phone rang with an incoming call from the Joe Corley Detention Facility.

Fiona’s hushed warning instantly put Tamia on edge.“What are you talking about?”

“Since your last visit I’ve been thinking about everything you told me, trying to wrap my head around the madness. This morning I was just shooting the breeze with another inmate—”

Tamia was alarmed.“I hope you’re not telling those people my business!”

Fiona paused, then let out a low, mirthless chuckle.“Listen to you. ‘Those people.’ Like they’re nothing but a bunch of lowlifes.”

When Tamia said nothing, Fiona sucked her teeth.“Damn, girl, you
do
think that about them. Well,
I’m
locked up just like they are. Are you calling me a lowlife, too?”

Tamia scowled as she headed into the bedroom. “Of course not, Fee. Have I ever called you that?
No.
Now stop trying to start an argument with me and get back to what you were saying.”

“Fine. I was chatting with another inmate—and
no,
I wasn’t discussing your business. We were just making small talk when she happened to mention that she’s from St. Croix. It tripped me out because you and I had just been talking about your Crucian Casanova.”

Tamia snorted, peeling off her pencil skirt. “Is that what you’re calling him?”

“Catchy, isn’t it?” Fiona chuckled at her own cleverness. “Anyway, stop interrupting me. I’m trying to tell you why you really need to leave that nigga alone. ’Cause according to Max-ine—that’s the inmate I was talking to—Isabel Archer is the
last
person you want as an enemy.”

“What do you mean?”Tamia asked cautiously.

“I mean,” Fiona said, lowering her voice to a hushed mur-mur,“Dominic’s wife belongs to an underground crime syndicate back on St. Croix.”

“What?”

“That’s what Maxine told me. See, when she mentioned that she was from St. Croix, I casually asked her if she’d ever heard of Dominic Archer. Since he’s a big-time CEO in this town, I figured she’d be proud of her fellow countryman. Girl, you should have
seen
the spooked look on her face when I brought up his name. She tried to end the conversation right then and there, but I kept pushing until she finally told me what was up.”

“So Isabel is supposedly a member of some secret Crucian mafia?”Tamia asked skeptically.

“I know it sounds crazy, and I had the same reaction you did. But Maxine swears on her grandmama’s grave that it’s true! She said Isabel’s whole family belongs to the organization. Her father was, like, the boss before he got assassinated several years ago by a rival group. That’s why Isabel came to the States—to lay low until shit cooled down back home. But she ended up marrying Dominic, who she already knew from St. Croix.”

As Fiona paused for breath, Tamia silently absorbed everything she’d just been told, pondering the implications.

Fiona continued in the same hushed tone, “Girl, Maxine said the members of the organization are ruthless, every last one of them. They practically own most of the banks in Fred-eriksted, and nobody fucks with them. But here’s the part that
really
had me worried for you. Three years ago, Dominic and Isabel were spending the summer in St. Croix. You know they have a house there, right?”

Tamia swallowed.“Yes.”

“Well, according to Maxine’s relatives back home, Dominic was messing around with one of their house servants that summer. Isabel found out and confronted them. A few days later, the girl turned up dead—shot three times in the face.”

Tamia felt a chill of foreboding. Isabel’s enraged screams reverberated through her mind like bits of flying shrapnel from an explosion.
I can’t believe you’d have the nerve to come here, on my home soil…. I will kill you dead…. The only way you’re leaving this island is in a fucking coffin!

Fiona continued soberly, “Everyone knew Isabel was responsible for the girl’s murder, but the police looked the other way ’cause she’s a member of that organization. So make no mistake about it, girlfriend. Isabel Archer ain’t no fucking joke!”

Tamia remembered the warning look on Dominic’s face as he’d hauled his screaming wife out of the bathroom, ordering Tamia to lock the door behind them.

“Does Dominic know that Isabel belongs to a crime syndicate?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

“Of course he does! But based on the way Maxine clammed up on me, I wouldn’t say shit to him if I were you. Who knows what that nigga might tell his crazy wife? For all you know, he might tell her that you found out about the organization
, and now you’re trying to get her criminal ass deported!”

Tamia shivered, perched on the edge of the bed in her bra and panties. Up until now, her biggest fear had been that sleeping with Dominic could cost her a future with Brandon. Now she realized that the affair could cost her her damn life!

“Have you heard from him since the last time we spoke?” Fiona asked.

Tamia grimaced.“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Really? What happened?”

She gave her sister a quick rundown of the disastrous trip to St. Croix, ending with a description of the dramatic bathroom confrontation.

“How the hell did she get inside the hotel room?” Fiona exclaimed.

“She told the front desk clerk that she’d misplaced her key. Can you
believe
Dominic was stupid enough to reserve the room under his real name? Apparently that’s where he takes all of his mistresses.” She shook her head in disgust, adding bit-terly,“The hotel employees must have been laughing at me behind my back.”

“Who the fuck cares? You were lucky to get off that island alive!”

“Tell me about it,”Tamia muttered grimly.“After Dominic took Isabel home, I didn’t step foot outside the hotel room until I had to leave for the airport the next morning. Talk about a trip from hell.” She shuddered at the memory.

“Girl, you can’t keep letting that man blackmail you. He’s gonna get you killed!”

“I know.” Tamia exhaled a shaky breath. “I can’t believe he’d endanger my life like this, knowing what his wife is capable of.”

“Well, at least now you know
she’s
the one who’s been having you followed.”

“True,”Tamia agreed.“It’s definitely not Brandon.”

She told Fiona about the incredible night of lovemaking she and Brandon had shared, which had culminated in an invitation to his father’s campaign launch party.

Fiona squealed with excitement. “See? You’ve been worried for nothing!”

“I wouldn’t exactly say it was for nothing,” Tamia said wryly.“Things were touch and go for a while there. And unless I can figure out a way to get Dominic out of the picture, who knows what’s going to happen?”

“Well, you’d better figure out something soon,” Fiona ad-vised.“In the meantime, watch your back.”

After getting off the phone with her sister, Tamia took a shower and slipped on one of Brandon’s oversize T-shirts. Grabbing her cell phone—just in case he called—she left the bedroom and started toward the kitchen to find something to eat. It felt natural to be rattling around Brandon’s condo while he was out of town. She felt right at home, like she belonged there. And since his building had a doorman
and
a twenty-four-hour front desk attendant, she knew she was much safer here than at her own house.

As she passed the open doorway to Brandon’s home study, she stopped.

After a moment’s hesitation, she turned and stepped quietly through the door. With the flip of a switch, cool white light washed over the room. In contrast to the mahogany and brass-studded leather that characterized his office at the law firm, Brandon’s home study featured a sleek, ultramodern decor that included a steel-and-glass desk, Deco lighting, contemporary artwork, and a glass-topped drafting table piled with legal tomes. The first time Tamia visited the condo, she’d teased Brandon about having an identity crisis because his study looked like it had been designed by an architect rather than an attorney.

Smiling at the memory, Tamia wandered over to a wall that held an assortment of photographs. In one picture Brandon posed with a group of his fraternity brothers—all sported wide, mischievous grins that left no doubt they’d recently been up to no good. In another photo, Brandon was flanked by Be-yoncé and Jay-Z during some celebrity fund-raiser event held in New York. Brandon and Bey, also a Houston native, had supposedly been friends for years. But the most riveting photograph on the wall—and one that attested to Brandon’s elite social status—featured him with his parents and President Obama at the inauguration two years before.