Chapter 3 #2
I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom, adjusting my top.
The black sheer fabric clung to my skin, teasing just enough while still leaving plenty to the imagination.
I made sure to wear a black bra underneath.
I paired it with a black leather skirt that hugged my hips and stopped just above my knees.
It was giving sexy, but dangerous, which is exactly the kind of energy I wanted tonight.
I hadn’t been out in a long time. Hell, I didn’t know the last time I even dressed up.
I was definitely feeling like the old me.
I bent slightly, zipping up my thigh-high leather boots, their heels clicking against the hardwood when I stood straight again.
Just as I sprayed on some Tom Ford Rose Prick, Nyala walked into my room without knocking, like she always did.
She was already dressed to kill. Wearing a sleek, black full-body suit that hugged her slim, thick frame, we looked like we were on the same vibe tonight.
The front was open, showing more cleavage than I would be comfortable with, but my friend made the outfit look classy.
A leather belt hugged her waist, and some cream suede boots that came above her knees and looked custom-made for her long legs, covered her feet.
Her hair was slicked back in a high ponytail, with hoops in her ears, and a wicked grin on her face.
“Damn, sis,” she said, giving me a slow up-and-down. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to shut the cigar lounge down tonight.”
I smirked at her through the mirror, fluffing out my curls. “Look who’s talking. You out here looking like Catwoman’s fine-ass cousin.”
Nyala laughed, spinning once so I could take her in. “You know… I had to match your energy. What my girl Cardi B said? We outside, bitch! There will be no halfway stepping tonight. I’m trying to shake some ass on somebody's son or daughter—whichever comes first.”
I slipped my gold hoops on, then ran lip gloss over my lips one last time. “I’m just going for the drinks and the vibe.”
Nyala cocked her brow and leaned against the doorframe, her bodysuit gleaming under the light. “And if a fine man offers to buy you a drink?”
I chuckled, grabbing my clutch. “I’m not interested.”
She pushed off the doorframe and linked her arm through mine. “Bitch! Yes, you are. Turn the bougieness off tonight, friend. Have some fun! You are single and looking fine as fuck!” Nyala slapped me on the ass. “Let’s go find my friend-in-law.”
I caught our reflection in the mirror one last time; two women dressed in black, fierce and unbothered.
“I don’t know all about that. I’m ready, though. Our ride is outside,” I said, boots clicking as we exited the house, me locking the door behind us. I made sure to grab my leather coat because I knew I’d get cold. It wouldn’t offset my look, either, with it being short and stopping above my waist.
Chit chat consumed the car, and before my thighs could stick to the leather seats, the driver slowed in front of the lounge.
As the car came to a full stop, I could see how deep the crowd was through the window.
The line stretched down the block, wrapping around the corner, with people hoping to get inside.
The driver slipped out and opened my door first, offering his hand as I stepped out with Nyala right behind me.
The chatter along the line quieted some as we made our way toward the front. I could feel the stares following us as we passed everyone. The bouncer gave us a once-over but didn’t move. Nyala stepped forward and gave her name. A second later, he nodded, unclipped the velvet rope, and stepped aside.
“Thank you,” Nyala said, brushing past him like she owned the place. I followed, catching the annoyed grumbles from people still stuck in line.
Inside, the atmosphere hit instantly: dim lights, thick cigar smoke curling into the air, and a low roll of jazz mixing with R&B.
Every table was full, men in suits puffing on cigars, and women sipping cocktails.
Heads turned when we walked in, and I felt the heat of every gaze, some admiring, some envious.
Nyala gave her name to the hostess, and we were immediately escorted to our section. I was impressed, and made a mental note to ask my bestie who her male friend was who had invited her. It was obvious he had money to afford such an elegant spot.
Eyes followed us as we passed tables and booths, the heavy smell of cigars hanging thick in the air, mingling with the faint sweetness of expensive liquor.
The low lighting caught the shine of my leather skirt and Nyala’s bodysuit, making us stand out even more.
The VIP section was slightly elevated, separated by tinted glass and guarded by another security guy.
The hostess unhooked the velvet rope and motioned us in.
Plush leather couches, polished tables, and bottle service were already waiting.
It felt like stepping into another world.
The music was still heavy, but it was clearer and smoother up here, as if the whole space was designed to make you feel untouchable.
“Damn! You didn’t tell me it was going to be like this. Who is this Ryan again?”
Nyala grinned, dropping into the seat beside me, her boots crossing one another.
“Girl, Ryan is a street nigga. You know I love a roughneck with deep pockets. I may have a good job as a stylist, but I love a man who isn’t afraid to spoil me.
” She grabbed the menu from the table and flipped it open casually.
“I’m going to order us some wings. We are drinking heavy tonight. Let’s do some shots first.”
Nyala grabbed a bottle off the table. I immediately noticed the sleek blue glass as Fuego Azul.
Just the sight of it made my chest tighten.
It reminded me I still hadn’t gotten a response from Mr. Samir Azul about my proposal.
On impulse, I pulled out my phone and tapped my Gmail app.
My heart rate picked up when I saw the unread message sitting there, bold and waiting.
I opened it fast, and my stomach dropped at the first few lines.
Dear Ms. Zanova Pierce, we are sorry to inform you that we will not be moving…
I didn’t even need to finish reading. From that one line, it was already clear that Mr. Carter turned me down.
“What’s wrong?” Nyala’s voice pulled me out of the email, her brows knitting as she clocked the look on my face.
“You know that asshole turned my proposal down?” I sighed, shaking my head, the high from earlier slipping away.
“What? For real? Do you think it’s because you acted like you didn’t remember him?”
“That can’t be it. He did the same, even though I knew he remembered me.” I shook my head, pissed off. “You know what… it doesn’t matter,” I muttered, forcing a shrug. “I’ll try another vendor. His loss.”
“Damn. I still can’t believe you had a one-night stand! And with a boss-ass nigga at that!”
“Don’t remind me. I still don’t know what came over me that night. All I knew was that I was hurting and just wanted to feel something other than the pain.”
Nyala’s eyes softened, but that teasing smirk never left her face. “Yeah… Well, you definitely felt something that night.”
“Girl, shut up!” I said, trying not to laugh. “I was going through it. My ex had me in a chokehold emotionally, and Samir just… happened.”
“Just happened,” she repeated, rolling her eyes. “That man didn’t just happen. You saw him, he saw you, and y’all damn near set that hotel on fire. Don’t play.”
I groaned, dropping my head in my hands.
“Maybe he’s testing you,” Ny said as she continued to look over the food menu. “Seeing if you fold or keep it business—strictly professional.”
“Please. Ain’t no test. He’s just an arrogant, fine-ass distraction I should’ve left in that damn bar.”
“Mm-hmm,” she hummed. “Keep telling yourself that.”
I cut her a look, but deep down, I knew she wasn’t wrong. Samir Carter was the one man I couldn’t seem to shake, no matter how hard I tried.
“Fuck him!” I yelled out.
“You right, friend. Fuck him! And fuck his good-ass tequila. Matter of fact… Let’s drink something else. We not even drinking his shit.”
I chuckled softly at her loyalty, but before I could respond, Nyala’s eyes flicked toward the entrance of the VIP. A smile tugged at her lips. I followed her gaze and noticed two men enter our section.
“There he is,” she said, standing up. “Zanova… Meet Ryan. The owner of this fine establishment.”
Ryan leaned in and kissed her cheek before turning his attention to me. He was tall, with dark skin and long dreads. He was dressed in a tailored suit that screamed money but carried it with ease.
“Nice to meet you,” he said warmly, extending his hand.
I shook it, giving him a small smile. “Same.”
“Welcome to my lounge,” he said with a prideful grin.
“Thanks. I love the vibe,” I said honestly, giving him a nod of respect.
“Appreciate that, ma. I worked hard to make it a place people want to be.”
Before I could respond, movement beside him pulled my gaze.
The second man stepped into the light, and my heart lurched against my ribs as Mr. Carter stepped under the dim light.
Even though I was still pissed about the email, I couldn’t stop my eyes from drinking in his fine ass.
The dark suit molded to his body, his broad shoulders filling it out just right.
I watched as his sharp stare swept the space before landing squarely on me. And once it did, it didn’t move.
The introduction faded into the background as Nyala and Ryan exchanged words, but all I could feel was his presence settling in front of me. Heavy and commanding, the silence stretching between us was like a test on who would break first.
“Oh, let me do this properly,” Ryan said with a smug grin. “Nyala, Zanova… This is my business partner, Samir Carter.”
Samir extended his hand to Nyala, then to me.
His cocky ass locked on me like he expected me to fall right in line.
His voice was smooth when he spoke. I looked at his hand, then back at him.
My face held a noticeable mug that was rightfully positioned.
Instead of taking his hand, I calmly lifted my glass, took a slow sip of my drink, and set it back down on the table.
“You must have gotten my email.” The corner of Samir’s mouth curved into a slick grin, but I didn’t say a word. I really wanted to knock it off his damn face.
I spat. “Nigga, fuck you!” I didn’t know if I was angry about the email or the fact that he acted like he didn’t remember me.
Ryan glanced between us, his brow rising. “Wait… Y’all know each other?”
I let a faint smile curve my lips but didn’t bother answering. Instead, I turned my attention to Ryan, my tone polite. “Where is your restroom?”
Ryan blinked, caught off guard, but quickly pointed toward the far hallway. “Pass the bar, second door on the left.”
“Thanks,” I said, sliding out of the booth, after declining Nyala’s offer to go with me. My heels clicked against the polished floor as I walked away, Samir’s eyes following me with every step I took.
Still pissed, I quickly used the restroom.
When I was done, I washed and dried my hands, smoothed my skirt, and straightened my top.
I closed my eyes briefly, trying to shake off any thoughts of Samir, but his face even showed up behind my eyelids.
What the hell was going on with me? There is no way I was thinking about this man like this. Especially after that fucking email!
After checking myself in the mirror, I pushed the door open to leave the restroom. My mind was still replaying the way Samir’s eyes lingered on me, and I hated that it stirred something in me that I didn’t want to name. I haven’t felt like that in… since him, and I wasn’t feeling that.
As the door swung open, and I stepped out, I ran straight into something solid.
Hard. I looked up fast, ready to curse out whoever wasn’t watching where they were going.
But the words died on my lips as I stared into a pair of dark eyes—Samir’s dark, beautiful eyes.
His broad chest blocked the hall, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth as if he’d been waiting.
Those dark eyes of his bore down into mine, stealing the breath right out of me.
My throat went dry, and for a beat too long, my legs couldn’t move.