Page 2 of The Birthday Girl
It was her.
Tahlia Banks, on her feet in the gallery, her diamonds blinding every eye in the room as she clapped for Tyriq. Her smile was worshipful and proud, as if the killer’s freedom were her own.
And at that moment, with Detective Vega’s fury burning into her back, she looked every bit the queen of the damned.
1- Never Again
Three months later…
“Happy birthday, baby.” Tyriq’s lips brushed Tahlia’s in a kiss, so gentle a whisper of warmth lingered after he pulled back.
Tahlia smiled against his mouth, her fingers curling into the cotton of his T-shirt. He deepened the kiss, slow at first, then hungry, pulling her closer until her body molded against his. The sheets tangled around them, and for a moment, she became lost in him. His touch made her forget everything, even her family and her obligations.
When they finally broke apart, their breaths were uneven, mingling in the warm hush of the bedroom. Tyriq smoothed his hand down her thigh, then pressed one last kiss to her temple before slipping out of bed.
“I’ve got to go,” he said, reaching for his slacks.
Tahlia’s smile faded. “Go? It’s Saturday. My birthday.”
Tyriq paused, guilt flashing across his face, before he forced a smile. “I know, baby, but I have to meet a new client thismorning. It shouldn’t take long, but if it does, I’ll be there tonight.”
She watched him knot his tie in the mirror, each tug pulling him further from her. “A client?” She repeated. “On a Saturday?”
Tyriq turned around and leaned over her, cupping her face in his hands, thumbs grazing her cheeks. “Don’t worry, baby. I promise I’ll be on time for the party. You know I wouldn’t miss it.”
She nodded, but said nothing, the corners of her mouth lifting into a mechanical smile as she watched him adjust his cufflinks, an old ache welling in her chest.
Tyriq bent down for one last kiss, then strode out the door without a backward glance.
Tahlia laid back against the pillows, her nostrils filling with the cedar and sage that lingered where Tyriq had been. She closed her eyes, as her fingers curled into fists, relaxed, then curled again.
Behind her eyelids, she saw Tyriq's car crumpled against a highway divider. Saw his body sprawled across the asphalt. Saw herself standing over him, a tire iron hanging loose in her grip.
Her eyes snapped open, and she pressed her palms flat against the mattress, picturing a pattern that went up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, start, until her heart stopped hammering against her ribs.
Maybe she was being petty. Working on her birthday wasn’t grounds for suspicion, not in their city, and not in their circles, where sleep was currency and relationships subsisted on afterthoughts and obligation.
However, Tyriq never worked Saturdays. That was the problem. His excuse didn’t fit the man she knew, but she forced herself to let it go.
The day moved on, the hours slipping through her fingers in a blur of party preparations, and silence from him. By the timeevening settled in, she couldn’t push the unease away anymore. Especially when her phone lit up with the kind of notification that could freeze a woman’s blood in her veins.
Tyriq Lawson, thirty-six, standing at six feet five with a toned, athletic body, gorgeous caramel skin, alluring brown eyes, thick brows, and lashes that could shame a runway model.
His lips. God, those lips. She had traced them with her fingertip just yesterday morning while he slept. Lips that had whisperedonly youagainst her collarbone. They were so perfect, they felt like pillows made from clouds when they were pressed to her skin.
That was how Tahlia Banks knew the bitch who had just tagged her in a photo on social media with his head buried between her legs was receiving the same reverence she once thought belonged only to her.
Tahlia’s stomach plummeted as if the floor had vanished from beneath her, and her lungs forgot their purpose entirely. The silver bracelet he had given her last month, engraved on the back withT+M forever, suddenly seared her wrist, branding her not as his beloved, but as his fool.
She wanted to throw the phone across the room and pretend none of it was real, but it was ringing off the hook. Emails were rolling in and texts arrived faster than she could breathe. Pretending wasn’t an option. Tyriq’s side bitch had broken the internet.
She placed the phone on Do Not Disturb and stared at the photo until every curve of the woman’s body seared itself into her mind. The sight of his face buried between another’s thighs carved something jagged into her chest.
Thirty-five years old. A billionaire. She could close deals with men who ran empires, she could build skylines from scratch, and yet there she was, reduced to nothing by a woman with a camera phone and Tyriq’s lack of shame.
Tahlia’s name was flooding a space she had never given anyone permission to drag her into. They didn’t see the man who whispered against her skin, or the man who had gone out of his way to prove himself to her. All they saw was the headline:Even Billionaire Baddies Get Played For A Fool,and people were running with it.
Tahlia knew the blowback from the scandal would be ugly. She could already envision the smirks hidden behind champagne glasses at charity galas, and whisperedI told you so’sfrom women who hated her on principle. Even the men she crushed in business would get their taste of victory, not because they outsmarted her, but becauseherman had humiliated her.
