Betrayal by Naomi Chase

words were growled low—a deadly warning that made Dominic hesitate.
    Tamia glanced around the restaurant, meeting the blatantly curious stares of several other diners. She had an unpleasant flashback to the day she’d gotten into a fistfight with Dominic’s wife at a coffee shop. Now that she was trying to rehabilitate her image, getting banned from another establishment was the last thing she wanted or needed.
    â€œIt’s okay,” she mumbled to Dominic.
    He frowned. “Tamia—”
    â€œNo, really. I don’t want to cause a scene.”
    Glaring at Brandon, Dominic reluctantly sat back down.
    Tamia had barely wiped her mouth on her napkin before Brandon grasped her upper arm and helped her from her chair. Her face burned with embarrassment as he steered her through the crowded restaurant. Once they were outside, he wordlessly handed his ticket to the parking attendant.
    Tamia swallowed hard. “Brandon—”
    He rounded furiously on her. “What the hell are you doing?”
    She stared at him. “Excuse me?”
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing here with that muthafucka?”
    She lifted a defiant chin. “Not that it’s any of your business—”
    â€œWhat? WHAT? ”
    Tamia darted a nervous glance at the parking attendant, who was pretending not to watch them.
    She shook her head at Brandon. “This really isn’t the time or place—”
    Grabbing her hand, he dragged her to the farthest end of the canopied entrance.
    As they turned to face each other, Tamia couldn’t help admiring the delicious perfection of his dark skin . . . the succulent fullness of his lips caressed by a manicured goatee . . . the broad expanse of his shoulders and strong chest. He looked absolutely amazing in his bespoke charcoal suit, one of five he’d had custom-tailored during their trip to Italy.
    God, how she wished they could go back there and never leave.
    â€œFor the last time,” Brandon growled, cold fury lacing his tone, “what are you doing here with Dominic?”
    â€œWe’re having lunch,” Tamia said evenly.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI don’t owe you an explana—”
    â€œ Goddamn it, Tamia! ” Brandon exploded, pushing his face into hers. “After everything that lowlife muthafucka did to you, do you honestly think you can trust him? Can’t you see he’s just trying to come between us again?”
    Tamia stared at him. “There is no us.”
    Brandon flinched, pain darkening his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he rubbed a shaky hand over his clenched jaw.
    Tamia wanted to cry. Her throat ached from the effort of holding back the tears.
    Shaking his head at her, Brandon whispered, “Why are you doing this?”
    â€œDoing what, Brandon? Moving on with my life? What else am I supposed to do? Huh? What else am I supposed to do?”
    â€œNot with him, Tamia. Not with him .”
    She sneered. “Is that all you care about? Not losing me to your hated rival? Is that all I am to you—a fucking pawn on some chessboard?”
    â€œ NO! ” Brandon roared, urgently grabbing her face between his hands. “You know good and damn well you mean more to me than that!”
    â€œWhat I know , Brandon, is that you’re marrying another woman and having a child with her!”
    â€œBut you’re the one I want, damn it!”
    At that moment his shiny black Maybach rolled to the curb, rims gleaming. As the valet climbed out of the vehicle, Brandon marched over, yanked open the passenger door, and glared at Tamia.
    â€œGet in the car,” he commanded.
    â€œWhat?” she sputtered. “Why?”
    â€œWe need to go for a ride and talk.”
    Tamia shook her head. “We have nothing to talk about.”
    â€œThe hell we don’t,” Brandon growled. “Get in the car.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œ GET IN THE FUCKING CAR, TAMIA! ”
    She gaped at him.