Chapter 9
The smell of vanilla and melted butter filled the kitchen, wrapping around me like a warm blanket.
The steady sound of mixers, the clinking of metal bowls, and the chatter from my staff should’ve kept my mind grounded, but it didn’t.
All I kept thinking about was last night and how Samir gave me one of the best orgasms of my life from just his thick fingers.
“Chef, do you want me to start on the lemon glaze?” Tanya called out from across the counter.
“Yeah, go ahead,” I said, my voice a little too distracted.
I exhaled slowly, gripping the handle of the whisk a little tighter.
Get it together, Nova, I told myself. You got work to do.
But no matter how hard I tried to focus on the batter, my mind replayed the night before like a movie stuck on repeat.
The cool breeze off the ocean, the warmth of his hands, the way his voice dipped low when he said my name all came rushing back, making my chest tighten.
I wasn’t supposed to feel that way again, not after everything I’d been through with Jerome.
I couldn’t afford these feelings after I promised myself I’d never let another man get close to me.
Yet here I am, standing in the middle of the resort’s kitchen, heart fluttering over a man who had no business taking up this much space in my head.
The worst part of all this was that I couldn’t even blame it on the weed.
That connection—that pull—was too real and too raw to be blamed on anything but chemistry.
I scooped the last of the batter into the pans and slid them into the oven, trying to bake away the thoughts that refused to leave me alone.
But even as I closed the door and wiped my hands on my apron, I could still feel him lingering somewhere inside me.
His touch, his voice, his damn cocky-ass demeanor.
And it scared me how much I wanted to feel him near again.
“Boss, you okay?” Tanya asked, glancing over with a curious look.
“I’m fine…” I forced a smile. “Just running through the gala menu in my head.”
She nodded and went back to whisking, but I could tell she didn’t buy it. I barely believed it myself.
Focus, Zanova, I told myself. Business first, heart later.
But my mind betrayed me again, wandering back to the sound of Samir’s voice, the heat in his eyes, and the way he said my name as if it were something worth savoring.
I bit my lip and turned toward the ovens again, making sure I’d shut the doors.
I was clearly distracted because last night wasn’t supposed to go that far.
I let that man finger me out in the open.
That wasn’t me. I barely let Jerome kiss on me out in public, afraid someone would be watching us.
And yet, letting Samir do what he did only heightened something inside me.
I was wiping a streak of flour from my apron when Nyala breezed through the door, humming loud and off-key like she didn’t have a care in the world.
Even from across the kitchen, I could tell something was different about her.
Her braids were in a ball on top of her head, her skin had that just-been-fucked glow, and she was grinning like somebody’s secret.
“Well, good morning, sunshine,” I said, lifting a brow. “You look… refreshed.”
Nyala laughed, grabbing a strawberry from a prep tray. “Refreshed and well fucked!”
Tanya snorted under her breath, and I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my smile. “Don’t come in here bragging about your night when I’ve been up since six, elbow-deep in batter.”
Nyala leaned against the counter, still grinning. “Mmh, somebody’s grumpy. Or maybe somebody’s distracted.” Her gaze sharpened. “So… What happened with you last night? Don’t think I didn’t see you sneaking off down that beach with Mr. Tall-Tequila-and-Trouble.”
Heat crept up my neck before I could stop it. “We just talked,” I said, way too fast.
“Talked,” she repeated, drawing the word out like she didn’t believe me for a second. “That’s what we are calling it now?”
I shook my head, laughing despite myself. “Nyala, please. It wasn’t like what you did last night.”
“Then why are you blushing like somebody turned the oven up to four-fifty?”
I tried to focus on smoothing the frosting on the cake in front of me, but my hands suddenly felt clumsy. “It’s nothing. We talked, and he walked me back to my room. The end.” I kept that Samir had me coming on his finger so good I was ready to pass out to myself.
“Girl, if I were you, me and that fine nigga would’ve put sex on the beach to shame. What’s the problem? I know you’re feeling him, boo. We are friends. We listen, we don’t judge.”
I sighed, setting down the spatula. “I guess I didn’t expect him to get under my skin so fast.”
Her eyes gleamed. “Then maybe stop fighting it so hard. You deserve to feel good again, Nova. Every man isn’t Jerome. You need to start living for yourself.”
“Yeah…” I whispered, mostly to myself. “Maybe I do.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to find love again.
It was that love felt like walking barefoot over glass, something I’d survived once and wasn’t sure I could do again.
Jerome had left scars that didn’t show, but ached when someone got too close.
But Samir was different—or at least he seemed different.
The way he looked at me made it hard to breathe, like he saw past the walls I’d built and dared me to tear them down. And that scared the hell out of me.
“Nova,” Nyala said softly, pulling me back from my thoughts. “You can’t keep letting the past rob you of what could be good. That man’s giving you the look like he’d drink your bathwater. Even if it’s just for fun, enjoy it. Y’all done hunched a few times. What’s the problem?”
I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head. “You are so damn stupid.”
“Maybe…” She grinned. “But I’m right. You light up when he’s around. Stop overthinking it. Let yourself feel something again.”
“We’ll see.”
“Good. Now…” She pulled two wristbands from the pocket of her jean shorts. One green, and the other purple. She handed me the green one.
“What is this for?” I was confused.
“It’s for the meet and greet tonight.” She smirked, and I had a feeling my friend was up to something.
“Nyala, I wasn’t even planning on staying long. And why are our bands different colors? What is it you’re not telling me?”
“Nova, you ask too many questions. I told you, they are for us to get in. Please come on. Don’t be a party pooper.”
I was about to respond when my phone vibrated against my thigh.
I pulled it out of the pocket of my apron and noticed I had three missed calls, a bunch of text messages from my mother, and a text message from Denise, my bakery manager.
I opted to call my mother first, praying everything was okay.
Before I could dial her number, she was calling me, so I quickly answered her call.
“Hey, Mama. Is everything okay?”
“You tell me!” She fired the words out, her voice dripping with curiosity. “Who is this man you all over the internet with? Sister Susie from church called me, said her daughter saw you on that TikTok with some handsome man. I sent you the videos. You got something you want to tell me, Miss Thang?”
My stomach dropped. “Videos? Mama, what are you talking about?” I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Mm-hmm,” she said, like she was settling in with popcorn. “Go on and look at what I sent you. I’ll wait.”
I fumbled to look at my phone, my fingers suddenly slick with nervous sweat. My heart was pounding so loud, I could barely hear myself think. I tapped the Messages app, and then my text thread with Mama, and there were three videos she’d sent. The first one had already started auto-playing.
“Oh my God…” I muttered under my breath.
It was the video from the day “Sweetest Temptation” launched.
The video showed Samir tasting my dessert.
Someone had zoomed in on us, catching the exact moment he took that slow, deliberate bite, never breaking eye contact with me.
The look on his face was pure sin, and the way I was watching him back didn’t make it any better. I looked gone.
“Oh my God!” I gasped, hand flying to my mouth.
From the speaker, Mama was humming like she was watching a soap opera. “Mmh, chile, I see why you've been sounding all absent-minded lately. Look at the way he is looking at you! He ’bout ready to risk it all.”
“Mama, please stop…” I groaned, pacing back and forth in front of the counter.
“This is so embarrassing. I knew people were recording, but I didn’t think it would reach the internet.
Mama, he’s the guy who owns Fuego Azul. Remember?
I told you that I signed a contract to use his tequila for my new tart. ”
“Yeah. But you never said anything about you two hunching!”
“Ma! We are not! What makes you think that?!” I was so embarrassed.
“Girl, who do you think you're fooling? Either you've been in that man's bed, or he wants you in his bed. I may be up in age, but I ain’t stupid. Look at the way y’all staring at each other? He looks like he rather be eating you than that tart.”
“Yesss! I said the same thing, Mama Helen!” Nyala was hyping my mama up. She was leaning on the counter, watching me panic with a big, entertained grin. “Y’all had chemistry, sis. You can’t deny that. Watching you and Samir was so… intense.” She fanned herself, dramatically.
“Ny, not right now.” I groaned. “Mama, I gotta go,” I said quickly, snatching my phone off speaker and ending the call before she could say anything else.
“Girl, the internet is ruthless,” Nyala said, her eyes gleaming as she reached for my phone. “Let me see the comments.”
“Ny, don’t—” I tried to grab it back, but she was already scrolling, grinning from ear to ear.
“Ohhh, they are loving y’all!” she hollered, laughing.
@MzBandz: Is this the soft launch of her man? Because the chemistry is crazy!’
“Give me my phone, Nyala!” I lunged again, but she turned her back, still scrolling.