Shemmy stood in the middle of her small Ikeja studio.
Heart beating like Lagos traffic at rush hour.
The late afternoon sun poured through the windows.
Turning her light yellow skin into pure gold.
Her thick, sexy curves filled the simple white tank top and tight leggings she wore while working.
Every inch of her body screamed confidence.
But inside?
She was nervous.
Today Daevyd Kng was coming for his first fitting.
The tall, slim chocolate-skinned man who had been living rent-free in her head since yesterday.
She touched the gold necklace he gave her.
Still warm against her full chest.
"Calm down, Semilore," she whispered to herself.
"It's just business."
The door opened.
Soft chime.
Daevyd stepped inside.
Tall.
Slim.
Chocolate skin glowing like polished wood under the sun.
His simple black shirt hugged his toned chest perfectly.
Sleeves rolled up, showing strong forearms.
He smiled the moment he saw her.
That slow, dangerous smile.
"Shemmy."
His deep voice filled the room.
"You look even more beautiful in your own space."
She felt heat rush to her cheeks.
Her yellow skin betraying her.
"Come in," she said, trying to sound professional.
"The blazer is ready for you."
He walked closer.
Towering over her thick curves.
His cologne wrapped around her like a warm hug.
Sandalwood and pure man.
She helped him into the custom blazer.
Blue fabric with silver circuit patterns she had embroidered herself.
It slid over his slim shoulders.
Hugged his chest.
Perfect.
Almost too perfect.
"Turn around," she whispered.
He did.
Slowly.
Their eyes met in the full-length mirror.
His dark gaze locked on hers.
Her light yellow reflection beside his chocolate one.
The contrast was fire.
She reached up to adjust the collar.
Her fingers brushed the side of his neck.
Soft.
Warm.
Electricity shot through both of them.
She pulled back quickly.
But it was too late.
The air in the studio had changed.
Thick.
Heavy.
Charged.
"Tell me about your roots," she said softly.
Trying to break the tension.
While pinning the side seam.
He chuckled.
Low and rich.
The sound vibrated through his chest.
"I'm Lagos born and bred, Shemmy. Grew up right here in the streets. Family just moved to Ibadan a few months ago from Lagos. But me? Never even stepped foot in Ekiti."
Shemmy laughed lightly.
The sound bright and teasing.
"Ekiti blood running through you but you've never been to Ekiti? Typical Lagos boy claiming village king status. Wait till I tell my people in Ikotun!"
Daevyd grinned.
Eyes sparkling.
"Guilty. My parents are from there, but I was raised running these Lagos streets. Ikotun girl, huh? Your parents Ogun through and through?"
She nodded.
Smiling as she worked.
"Yeah. Abeokuta roots. But I grew up in Ikotun. Learned to sew watching my mother under the same flickering bulb when NEPA took light. Turned plain fabric into power. That's why my designs are bold. For women with curves like mine. Thick. Proud. Unapologetic."
Daevyd turned to face her.
No mirror between them now.
Just inches apart.
"You're not just designing clothes, Shemmy."
His voice dropped.
"You're designing queens."
She felt her breath catch.
No man had ever said something like that to her.
Not like he meant it.
His hand lifted slowly.
Brushed a loose strand of hair from her face.
Gentle.
But possessive.
Their eyes locked again.
Time stopped.
She could see the hunger in his dark eyes.
The same hunger burning in her chest.
Her full lips parted slightly.
His gaze dropped there.
For one dangerous second.
She wanted him to close the gap.
Wanted to feel those lips on hers.
Wanted to know how his slim, hard body would feel against her soft curves.
But she stepped back.
Barely.
"Almost done," she said.
Voice shaky.
"One more pin."
He stayed still.
Watching her every move.
The studio felt smaller.
Hotter.
The necklace he gave her rested between her breasts.
Rising and falling with every quick breath.
She pinned the last seam.
Stepped back to admire.
"It fits you perfectly, Daevyd."
He looked at himself in the mirror.
Then looked at her.
"No, Shemmy."
His voice was rough now.
"You fit me perfectly."
The words hung between them.
Heavy.
Full of meaning.
He took one step closer.
His tall frame casting a shadow over her thick body.
She could feel the heat coming off him.
One more inch.
One tiny move.
And everything would change.
But his phone suddenly buzzed loudly on the table.
Sharp.
Breaking the spell.
He glanced at the screen.
Frowned deeply.
The charming smile disappeared.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"Urgent call."
He answered.
Voice low.
But Shemmy heard the name.
"Nadia."
His ex?
The way he turned away.
The tension in his shoulders.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Shemmy pretended to arrange fabrics.
But her heart was racing for a different reason now.
Who was Nadia?
Why did Daevyd suddenly look so troubled?
The fitting was over.
But new questions burned hotter than ever.
As he ended the call and turned back to her.
His face trying to hide the storm.
Shemmy knew one thing for sure.
This tall chocolate-skinned Lagos boy was hiding something big.
And if she wasn't careful…
That secret might burn them both alive.