Chapter 2 #2
Getting my day started, I leaned back in my chair, flipping the folder open that held a background check of Zanova Pierce.
Everyone I do business with went through the same channels.
I like to know beforehand who I’m dealing with.
That’s when I saw her. Kim, or should I say, Zanova?
I knew she gave me a fake-ass name. Her picture sat on the first page, and the night we shared came back to me like a movie I couldn’t turn off.
The way her pussy gripped my dick like it didn’t want to let me go, and the sweet taste of her pussy still haunted me to this day.
She was standing behind a display of cakes, smiling like the world belonged to her.
Apron tied snug around her waist with her business logo stamped across the front, but my eyes didn’t give a damn about the branding.
They were ogling her. The smile that sat on her face was soft but confident, as if she knew she was good at what she did and didn’t need validation.
Her eyes caught me, making a nigga heart do some shit I ain’t felt in a long time.
They were big and almond-shaped, with this spark that made me think she laughed often.
She looked like the type of woman who could light up a room just by looking around it.
And then there were her lips—full, plump, and damn near begging to be kissed.
I caught myself staring too long, but hell, I couldn’t help it.
My gaze traveled lower on the photo, taking in how thick she still was, curves filling out that apron in a way that left too much for my imagination to play with.
She wasn’t a runway, petite figure, with fake breasts and ass like my ex-wife.
Nah, Zanova looked real; the type of thick you could actually grab onto.
I sat back, smirking without meaning to. Baby girl played me. She gave me the best pussy of my life, and then ghosted me the next morning. No note—not even a damn “thanks for the best dick of my life.” Nothing. Just gone, leaving behind her sweet scent on my lips and beard.
I should’ve been pissed, but instead, I was impressed.
Most women clung to me after getting this dick, but not her.
She dipped before the sun came up like a thief in the night, and now here she was, smiling in this picture like she didn’t flip a nigga whole world upside down.
I closed the folder slowly, tongue pressing against my cheek as I stared out my office window.
Alright, Ms. Pierce. You got your little one-night win. But now that I know who you are, let’s see who plays who this time.
For the first time in a long time, I was intrigued. A buzz sounded from my desk intercom, breaking my focus and snapping me out of the moment.
“Mr. Carter.” Hailey, my secretary’s voice, came through, smooth and professional, “Your twelve o’clock appointment is here.”
“Send her in,” I said, straightening my tie even though I didn’t need to.
The door swung open, and in walked Zanova Pierce, looking finer than I remembered.
For a split second, she froze. Her eyes widened, lips parted like she forgot how to breathe.
I caught that shit, though. A slight smirk tugged at my mouth as she quickly recovered, smoothing her dress and putting on that fake professional smile like we hadn’t already crossed that line.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Carter,” she said, voice calm but not steady enough to fool me. “I’m Zanova Pierce, owner of Zanova’s Tasty Treats. Thank you for meeting with me today.”
I leaned back in my chair, fighting the smirk tugging at my lips. “Oh, the pleasure’s all mine, Ms. Pierce. Please… Have a seat.” I nodded to the chair in front of my desk.
She moved carefully, like every step was being measured, and sat across from me, crossing those thick thighs.
Her hands folded neatly over the folder in her lap, but I could see the slight tremble in her fingers.
I watched her as she talked business, pretending not to notice how her eyes avoided mine too long or how her breathing hitched every time I said her name.
“So…” I flipped through her photos, pretending to read but really just buying myself time. “Tell me something… What makes your idea so special? Everybody out here tryna mix liquor in their desserts like it’s somethin’ new.”
“I don’t do gimmicks, Mr. Carter. My desserts tell stories. They are bold, sexy, and have a flavor that stays on your mind. People don’t just eat them, they feel them.”
The way her voice wrapped around that last two words had me thinking about shit that had nothing to do with desserts.
“You got some confidence in you, Ms. Pierce,” I said, smirking. “I like that.”
Hell, I like everything about you, I thought, but kept it to myself.
“Gotta be confident, Mr. Carter. Ain’t nobody ever handed me shit. I built Zanova’s Tasty Treats from scratch. Everything I got, I earned.”
That made me look at her differently. She wasn’t out here trying to impress anyone; she was trying to win.
“So you want exclusivity,” I said, leaning back in my chair, rubbing my beard. “That’s a big ask, ma. What’s Fuego Azul getting out of the deal?”
“It’s Ms. Pierce,” she corrected me, and I smirked.
“I’m offering visibility. My desserts are popular at private events, weddings…
amongst other gatherings. People even order just because, even when there’s no celebration—my cakes are that good.
But with your tequila, I can take my infused treats to the next level.
We can create something memorable with branding that’s sensual, indulgent, and unforgettable.
Create the kind of campaign that has people saying Fuego Azul isn’t just a drink… It’s an experience.”
I studied her across the desk. Most pitches were scripted, but Zanova felt lived-in. She wasn’t reading lines; she was speaking from conviction, and I fucked with that.
“Unforgettable,” I repeated. “That’s what you’re promising me, Ms. Pierce.” I licked my lips, as my eyes did a quick sweep over her body, stopping briefly at her breast that barely hid behind her silk blouse.
She cleared her throat, shifting in her seat, which caused me to grin at how I had her squirming. “That’s what I deliver, Mr. Carter.”
Silence stretched between us. I let my gaze linger on her longer than was wise. She didn’t flinch or even shrink. If anything, she leaned into it like she wanted me to know she wasn’t intimidated.
“So, these names you came up with for these desserts. How did they come about?”
Once again, she shifted in her seat. For the first time, I could see her nervousness. Her hands smoothed over her thighs, and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Um… sex sells. Some say sweets are an aphrodisiac, so I wanted to play on that. Make the names catchy enough to stick, and a little provocative without being over the top, and people will eat it right up—figuratively and literally.” Her voice wavered at first, but then steadied as she spoke, like she was reminding herself she belonged here.
I caught that confidence sliding back into place, and it made me want to test her more. I leaned back in my chair, studying her, the edge of a smirk tugging at my lips. “Clever. You’re using temptation to sell temptation. I can dig that.”
She met my eyes again, this time with a spark of boldness. “Exactly. People don’t just buy cake, Mr. Carter—”
“Samir,” I stated, cutting her off.
“Samir. Yes, they buy because of the way it makes them feel. I want every bite to taste like indulgence.”
That last word hit the space between us like a challenge. I shifted slightly in my seat, watching her lips wrap around the syllables, thick and full like they’d been carved to tease.
“Indulgence, huh? Sounds like you thought this through.”
“That’s because I don’t just bake cakes, I create experiences. Taught by the best… My grandmother.” She smiled proudly.
I bit back another smile. She had no idea the kind of experience her presence alone was stirring up in this office. Clearing my throat, I nodded. “I’ll have my assistant review the proposal in detail and get back to you in a few days.”
Her shoulders eased, just a fraction, though her composure never slipped. “Thank you,” she replied softly.
I should’ve ended the meeting there, but curiosity got the better of me. “Tell me, what made you get into this? Alcohol-infused desserts?”
A small smile touched her lips. “Because alcohol has a way of loosening people, lowering walls. Pair it with something sweet, and you have a recipe for memory.”
“I bet it does,” I whispered, or so I thought.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, ‘Interesting perspective.’”
She gathered her folder, standing with a quiet grace. “I look forward to hearing from your team.”
When she extended her hand again, I took it, holding just long enough for the warmth to linger. “Your vision is strong, Ms. Pierce. Let’s see if we can make it a reality to remember.”
She didn’t respond as she began placing her photos back into her folder. I watched as she sashayed to my office door, opened it, and walked out. The door shut behind her, and the office felt emptier than before she’d walked in.
I sat back in my chair, simpering. Ms. Zanova really thought she played it cool. She thought she could pretend like she ain’t remember how I had her moaning a nigga name.
I can’t front—I thought her calm act was cute. But that little flicker in her eyes when our hands touched told me everything I needed to know. She remembered every damn second, and I’ll be damned if that didn’t make me want her all over again.