by Naomi Chase
Russ laughed scornfully, shaking his head as he leaned back against his chair. “I gotta tell you, Chambers. For all the trouble you’ve gone through for this woman, the putang must have been really something.”
Brandon clenched his jaw, eyes narrowed on Russ’s smirking face. He wanted to lunge across the table, grab the smug motherfucker by the throat, and throw his ass out the window.
Checking the violent urge, Brandon said coolly, “Unlike you, Sutcliffe, my mother raised a gentleman. So out of respect to Edna and Nancy”—he glanced at the two female attorneys in the room—“I won’t dignify your crassness with a response.”
Russ scowled.
“And you seem to have misunderstood me,” Brandon continued in the same mild tone. “When I made my announcement, I wasn’t asking for permission.”
“Wonderful,” Russ mocked, looking around the room. “So let’s all go around forgiving clients’ debts, and when our profits take a nosedive, we’ll see how the golden child feels about that.”
The snide suggestion elicited some chuckles.
Unfazed, Brandon shrugged. “To be perfectly honest, Russ, I’m making enough money from the sports agency that I could take pro bono cases for the next two years and not lose any sleep at night. Hell, maybe I should just leave and help my brother negotiate multimillion-dollar NBA contracts. You wouldn’t believe the perks.”
As his colleagues exchanged nervous glances, he snapped his fingers. “Or better yet. Maybe I’ll just start my own firm and take all my clients with me.”
Dead silence.
He glanced around the table, looking each of the partners in the eye.
Russ glared back at him, while Mitch merely grimaced and shook his head.
Satisfied that he’d made his point, Brandon flicked his wrist and checked his watch. “I don’t know about the rest of you,” he drawled, “but I’ve got some billable hours to run up.”
No one spoke as he unhurriedly got to his feet, fastening the last two buttons of his suit jacket. He looked around the room and said, “Gentlemen,” then inclined his head toward Edna and Nancy. “Ladies.”
The two women nodded at him, their eyes glimmering with amusement and respect.
And with that, Brandon turned and sauntered out of the conference room.
Chapter 14
Fiona
“Oooh, Daddy,” Fiona moaned lustily, breasts bouncing up and down, hips working frantically as she rode the stiff shaft of her current lover. “This dick is sooo good!”
“So is this pussy,” Shane panted beneath her, gripping Fiona’s butt so hard she just knew he’d leave permanent handprints. “I don’t think I can ... last much longer.”
Of course you can’t, Fiona thought with wicked satisfaction.
“This pussy too much for you, Daddy?” she taunted, seductively rocking her hips as she fingered her hard clit. “You can’t handle all this good punanny?”
He shook his head quickly, squeezing his eyes shut. “Oh, shit,” he groaned hoarsely as she flexed her inner walls. “Shit, baby, I’m ... coming!”
“So am I!” Fiona yelled exultantly, busting her nut at the same time that she felt his dick pumping rapidly inside her, spilling semen into the condom he wore.
Laughing breathlessly, she collapsed on the bed beside him and rained kisses down his neck and heaving bare chest.
“Ummm.” He smiled contentedly, caressing her damp back. “That was amazing.”
Not quite, Fiona mused as she snuggled against him. But it’s good enough for now.
“I love it when you do that thing with your pussy muscles.” He shuddered. “Gets me every single time.”
Fiona smiled coyly. “So that should definitely earn me an A on the final exam, right?”
Shane laughed, his warm breath fanning her face. “You don’t need to seduce me to get good grades in my class, Fiona.”
“What?” she exclaimed, feigning shock. “You mean I’ve been fucking you all this time for nothing?”
They both laughed.
Shane was her economics professor at Rice University. She’d been attracted to him from the very first day of class, although he wasn’t her usual type. He was light skinned, for starters, and he didn’t have a thuggish bone in his body. But he was handsome in a scholarly, neo-soul kind of way. With his short, neat twists and the rimless frames he sported, he reminded her of the singer Maxwell.
At the beginning of the semester, she’d found herself paying more attention to the way his jeans hugged his ass than to what he was teaching. By the second week of classes, she’d been totally lost. So she’d gone to him for help.
She’d already known that he was attracted to her. She’d caught him checking her out several times, his eyes sliding over her thick ass and thighs when he thought she wasn’t looking. He’d been only too happy to oblige her request for after-hours tutoring. Halfway through their first session in his office, she’d had him down on his knees, his face buried between her legs as he enthusiastically ate out her pussy.
They’d been hooking up secretly ever since.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Fiona,” Shane murmured, stroking her tousled hair. “But you should never feel that you have to use your body to get what you want out of life.”
Fiona went still, Shane’s words presciently echoing what her grandmother had told her many years ago. God blessed you with beauty, chile, but He never intended for you to use it as a weapon.
A familiar ache of sorrow and regret swept through her at the memory of Mama Esther, who’d meant everything to Fiona and Tamia. After her tragic death, their lives had never been the same again.
“You’re a lot smarter than you think you are,” Shane continued when Fiona remained silent. “Didn’t you just ace a history test that most of your classmates tanked?”
Fiona beamed, the painful memories from the past evaporating. “Yup. I sure did.”
“See? And I know you’re definitely not sleeping with Professor Wozniak.”
“Hell, nah!” Fiona exclaimed, her nose wrinkling in disgust at the thought of even touching the old, liver-spotted relic who sprayed spittle when he lectured. “No amount of money in the world could convince me to fuck that dude.”
Shane laughed. “That’s good to know.”
Fiona grinned, running her fingers through the thick swirls of hair covering his chest. “Why aren’t you married, professor?”
He sighed dramatically. “No woman will have me.”
Fiona snorted out a laugh. “Stop playin’! You know damn well that’s not true. Have you seen the way your female students look at you? Every last one of them wants to fuck the shit outta you. If they knew about us, they’d be so damn jealous.”
Shane eyed her alertly.“But they don’t, right? I mean, you haven’t told anyone about us, have you?”
“Of course not! I’m not stupid. I know you don’t wanna lose your job.” She scowled. “Even though they’d be dead wrong for firing you. It’s not like I’m some damn teenager. I’m twenty-five years old. A grown-ass woman.”
“You most certainly are,” Shane agreed, squeezing her butt cheek.
Fiona grinned, cuddling closer to him. “Anyway, why did you say no woman will have you? Have you been in a lot of bad relationships?”
“Not really.” He paused. “I just always seem to attract women whose hearts belong to someone else. Like the last woman I dated. She was smart, beautiful, accomplished, and we really had a lot in common.”
When he fell silent, Fiona prompted, “But?”
Shane grimaced. “But she was in love with another man.”
“Damn,” Fiona commiserated. “That’s fucked up. I can tell you were really feeling her.”
“I was,” he admitted.
“What was her name?”
He hesitated. “Cynthia.”
“Cynthia, huh? Well, she was a damn fool for letting you go.”
Shane chuckled, kissing the top of Fiona’s head. “In all fairness to her
, the guy she was pining for just happened to be Houston’s most eligible bachelor. So it’s not like I lost out to some ugly, broke-ass chump off the street. That would have made me feel worse.”
Fiona had been tracing lazy patterns through the soft mat of Shane’s chest hairs. At the mention of “Houston’s most eligible bachelor,” her hand stilled. Lifting her head, she stared at Shane. “Are you talking about Brandon Chambers?”
He made a pained face. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“Wait a minute. You dated Cynthia Yarbrough?”
“Yeah.” Shane eyed Fiona curiously. “Do you know her?”
“Not personally. But I know who she is. Her father’s megachurch is even bigger than T.D. Jakes’s. And everyone in town knows she’s dating Brandon Chambers.” Fiona was reeling with shock. She couldn’t believe that the man she’d been sneaking around with had once dated her sister’s nemesis. Talk about six degrees of separation!
“Have you ever been to Bishop Yarbrough’s church?” Shane asked her.
She hesitated. “No, but my boss has started going.”
“You mean the owner of the barber shop where you work?”
Fiona nodded.
She hadn’t told Shane very much about her background. So he didn’t know that she’d spent two years behind bars, that she worked for the lieutenant governor’s sons, that she was related to the former porn star whose scandalous murder trial had made national headlines. And he sure as hell didn’t know about the harrowing night that Fiona had taken another woman’s life, a transgression that would haunt her for the rest of her life.
As far as she was concerned, the less Shane knew about her, the better.
Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, Shane grimaced. “Damn, it’s already after five. I’d better head home and change so I won’t be late to the faculty reception.”
“Okay.” Fiona sighed. “I wish I could go with you.”
“No, you don’t,” Shane retorted, climbing out of bed to get dressed. “You’d be bored to death, standing around eating finger food and making small talk with the most pretentious assholes you’ve ever met. Trust me, if I weren’t seeking tenure, I’d skip the damn reception tonight and stay right here with you.”
Fiona grinned. “Well, you’re more than welcome to come back when it’s over. And just in case you need a little mental stimulation to get you through the boring evening ...” Slowly she spread her legs to show him the plump, glistening folds of her pussy.
Shane stared down at her, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
Smiling seductively, Fiona dipped a finger inside her wetness and purred, “This is what will be waiting for you.”
Shane glanced at the clock, then back at her, torn between lust and duty.
Fiona provocatively licked her finger. “Mmm.”
Shane’s nostrils flared. “Fuck it,” he muttered.
As he tossed aside his shirt and dove on top of her, Fiona could only laugh in wicked triumph.
After Shane left an hour later, Fiona lit up a blunt, reached inside her Coach bookbag, and pulled out her history test. She beamed at the score scrawled across the top of the page. Ninety-seven. She’d only gotten one answer wrong, and only because she’d second-guessed herself. The questions had been difficult, but she’d studied hard and had come prepared.
She was damn proud of herself.
Wanting to share her accomplishment with the one person who’d always believed in her, Fiona grabbed her cell phone without thinking and called Tamia.
She frowned as an automated voice informed her that the number she’d reached was no longer in service.
Hanging up, she took a long drag on her blunt and exhaled a shaky breath. When her eyes watered, she blamed it on the smoke. But she knew better. Her feelings were hurt. Tamia had obviously changed her number in a cruel attempt to sever all ties with Fiona.
I don’t think so, she mused darkly, speed-dialing another number.
When Brandon answered the phone, she momentarily forgot why she was calling him. His deep voice was hella sexy, sending delicious shivers down her spine.
“Hey, baby girl,” he said, sounding distracted. “Is everything all right?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Cool. I’m on the phone with a client, so can I call you back?”
“Sure, but you don’t have to. I just wanted to know if you have Tamia’s new number.”
“Yeah.” He paused. “She didn’t give it to you, huh?”
“No. And I really need to talk to her. I’m thinking about putting our house up for sale,” she lied, “and Tamia has the deed and all the other paperwork.”
Brandon was silent.
Fiona imagined him frowning into the phone, eyes narrowed as he tried to determine whether she was telling the truth.
She waited, toking nervously on her blunt.
“One of these days,” Brandon muttered grimly, “I’ma get to the bottom of what really went down between you two.”
Fiona’s mouth went dry. She knew that if anyone could ferret out the terrible secret she and her sister shared, Brandon could.
“I have to go,” he said, “so here’s Tamia’s number.”
Fiona jotted down the digits on the back of her history test. “Thank you, Brandon,” she said sweetly.
“No problem. Later, girl.”
After he hung up, Fiona inhaled a deep, steadying breath and let it out slowly. When she felt calmer, she dialed her sister’s new number.
Tamia answered on the fourth ring.
“I thought I told you not to call me,” she said, her voice so chilling that Fiona would have sworn the temperature had suddenly plummeted below zero.
She gulped hard. “Hey, Tamia,” she croaked.
“How the fuck did you get this number?”
“B-Brandon gave it to me. I told him I needed to talk to you—”
“I don’t talk to ghosts, and you’re dead to me. Remember?”
Tears welled in Fiona’s eyes. “Come on, Tam-Tam. I miss you. The house isn’t the same without—”
There was a sharp click.
Seconds later, all Fiona heard was the rude drone of the dial tone.
With tears streaming down her face, she flung aside the phone and blindly crushed out her blunt in an ashtray on the nightstand.
As a seething rage built inside her, she snatched her history test off the bed and viciously ripped the pages apart, then hurled the shredded pieces into the air like confetti.
After retrieving her jeans and sweater from the floor, she dressed quickly and grabbed her car keys.
As she slammed out of the house moments later, she had only one destination in mind.
Chapter 15
Tamia
Tamia was livid.
She couldn’t believe Fiona had called her! What part of “I want absolutely nothing to do with you” did that bitch not understand? What made her think for one damn second that Tamia was ready to forgive her—especially when it had only been a week since she’d been acquitted for a murder that Fiona had committed?
“Un-fucking-believable!” Tamia hissed furiously.
After hanging up on her sister, she’d tried to return her attention to the Legal Writing for Dummies guide that she’d been reading before she was interrupted. But she couldn’t concentrate on a damn word. After perusing the same passage for the third time, she’d tossed down the book in angry frustration.
She was debating whether to drive over to the house to lay hands on Fiona when a loud knock sounded at her front door.
Heart thumping into her throat, Tamia snatched off her earrings and lunged from the sofa. “This bitch thinks I’m playing,” she ranted, marching from the living room. “Don’t let me find her standing on my doorstep, or I’ma whup her fucking ass like I shoulda done in the first place!”
She reached the front door and yanked it open, her fists balled in preparation.
But it wasn’t Fiona who stood there with disheveled h
air and a busted lip, her eyes concealed behind dark sunglasses and the strap of her Louis Vuitton purse dangling off one shoulder.
Tamia froze, staring in shock. “Honey?”
The young woman nodded quickly, darting a glance over her shoulder before returning her gaze to Tamia. “Can I come in?”
Tamia hesitated, eyeing her warily. After all the shit she’d recently gone through, the last thing she wanted was to get involved in someone else’s mess, and Honey was clearly in some mess.
“Please?” the girl implored.
Tamia wavered another moment, then took Honey’s hand and pulled her inside, glancing up and down the empty corridor before closing and locking the door.
“I’m sorry to show up at your place like this,” Honey mumbled, nervously twisting her hands as she faced Tamia, “but I didn’t know where else to go. Lou always says how cool you are, and he told me I could come to you about anything.”
“Um, that’s fine,” Tamia said, folding her arms across her chest. “But how did you get past the front desk attendant? They’re supposed to call me whenever I have visitors.”
Honey looked sheepish. “Don’t get mad. I begged him not to call you because I wasn’t sure you’d let me up.”
Tamia frowned at her. “What’s going on?”
Honey exhaled a shaky breath, then reached up and slowly removed her sunglasses.
When Tamia saw the swollen flesh around the girl’s left eye, she gasped. “Who the hell did that to you?”
Honey grimaced. “I got into a fight with my boyfriend, Keyshawn.”
“And he hit you?”
Honey nodded, her eyes glistening with tears. “He was really upset.”
Tamia scowled. “That doesn’t give him the right to put his fucking hands on you.” Moving closer, she examined Honey’s bruised eye for a moment, then sucked her teeth and took the girl’s hand, leading her to the kitchen.
“Have a seat,” she instructed, motioning toward one of the barstools at the breakfast counter.
Honey did as she’d been told, watching as Tamia quickly assembled an ice pack. “You have a really nice place.”
“Thanks.” Tamia walked over and gingerly pressed the ice pack against Honey’s swollen eye, her mind flashing back to the times she’d tended to her mother’s injuries after one of Lorraine’s brawls with Fiona’s father. Tamia had despised Sonny Powell, whose volatile temper had made their lives a living hell until the day he left and never came back.