The Lagos Tech Conference hall was electric.
Hundreds of voices mixed with the low hum of air conditioners and the clink of champagne glasses.
Shemmy Esther moved through the crowd like she owned it.
Light yellow skin glowing under the bright lights.
Her thick, sexy curves wrapped perfectly in the ankara dress she had designed herself.
The fabric hugged her full hips and narrow waist, turning more than a few heads.
But Shemmy wasn't here for compliments.
She was here for money.
For her fashion dream.
For the future she had fought tooth and nail to build.
She clutched her portfolio tighter.
Heart pounding with nervous energy.
One good connection today could change her life.
Then it happened.
She turned too fast.
And crashed straight into a tall, slim frame.
Her portfolio slipped.
Papers fluttered to the floor.
Strong hands caught her arms before she could fall.
"Easy there, beautiful."
The voice was deep.
Smooth.
Pure Yoruba charm wrapped in confidence.
She looked up.
And her breath caught.
He was chocolate-skinned perfection.
Tall.
Slim but toned.
Sharp jawline.
Dark eyes that sparkled with amusement.
A crisp white shirt hugged his chest.
Sleeves rolled up to show strong forearms.
Daevyd Kng.
She didn't know his name yet.
But she felt it.
The spark.
Right there in that single second.
"Sorry," she said quickly.
Trying to steady her voice.
"I wasn't looking."
He smiled.
Slow.
Dangerous.
"No apology needed."
He bent down.
Picked up her scattered sketches with long fingers.
His eyes scanned one drawing.
A bold flowing gown with gold accents.
"These are yours?"
She nodded.
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Yes. I'm Shemmy. Fashion designer."
"Semilore Esther," he read from the portfolio.
"But everyone calls me Shemmy."
He straightened to his full height.
Towering over her.
Even in her heels.
"Daevyd Kng. TechWave founder."
His eyes traveled over her once.
Not in a creepy way.
But like he was seeing her.
Really seeing her.
"The curves in that dress? Pure fire. And the designs? Even better."
Shemmy felt heat rush to her cheeks.
No man had ever made her blush this fast.
She cleared her throat.
"Flattery won't get you anywhere, Mr. Kng."
He laughed.
Low and rich.
The sound vibrated through her chest.
"Oh, I think it already did."
He handed her the papers.
Their fingers brushed.
Electricity shot up her arm.
She pulled back quickly.
But the feeling stayed.
"Come," he said.
Nodding toward the buffet.
"Let me make it up to you. Best jollof in Lagos is over there."
She hesitated.
One second.
Two.
Her mind screamed business only.
Her body said something else.
"Okay," she finally answered.
"Just for the jollof."
They walked side by side.
His presence beside her felt… right.
Too right.
The spicy aroma of jollof rice hit them before they reached the table.
Daevyd piled two plates high.
Added fried plantains and peppered chicken.
He found them a small high table near the window.
Lagos skyline sparkling behind them.
"So, Shemmy," he started.
Fork halfway to his mouth.
"Tell me why a woman with talent like yours is hunting sponsors in a room full of nerds."
She took a bite.
The rice was perfect.
Spicy.
Just like home.
"Because talent alone doesn't pay bills."
She met his eyes.
Bold.
"I want my brand on international runways."
"Paris. Milan. New York."
"My designs on women who look like me."
Thick.
Curvy.
Proudly African."
Daevyd listened.
Really listened.
No phone in his hand.
No wandering eyes.
"You're not just designing clothes," he said quietly.
"You're designing confidence."
Shemmy's spoon paused mid-air.
How did he get that so fast?
Most men only saw her curves.
Not her vision.
"What about you?" she asked.
Trying to shift the focus.
"TechWave. Sounds big."
He leaned forward.
Chocolate skin glowing under the lights.
"Born and raised right here in Lagos."
Yoruba through and through."
"Family from Ekiti originally."
"But Lagos is my playground."
"I build apps that connect creatives with real money."
"Like you."
His smile turned playful.
"Maybe I can connect you with some of that money."
Shemmy raised an eyebrow.
Heart beating faster.
"Is that a pitch or a pickup line?"
"Both," he admitted.
Laughing softly.
"But mostly a pitch."
For the next twenty minutes they talked.
Really talked.
She told him about late nights sewing in her small Ikeja apartment.
About the loans she struggled to repay.
About the dream that kept her going.
He told her about starting TechWave from his parents' sitting room.
About the nights he coded till dawn.
About wanting to lift other young Yoruba hustlers like himself.
The conversation flowed easy.
Like they had known each other for years.
Not minutes.
Shemmy laughed at his jokes.
Genuine laughter.
The kind she hadn't done in months.
Daevyd watched her.
Eyes darkening every time she smiled.
Every time she leaned forward and her dress shifted over her curves.
He wanted to reach out.
Touch her hand again.
But he held back.
Barely.
The hall started to thin out.
Keynote speech about to begin.
Shemmy checked her watch.
"I should go."
Daevyd stood too.
"Don't disappear on me, Shemmy Esther."
He pulled out his phone.
"Number?"
She hesitated.
Then typed it in.
Their fingers brushed again.
Longer this time.
She felt it everywhere.
He saved it.
Then looked up.
That intense gaze locked on hers.
"I'll message you tonight."
"About a possible collaboration."
"Or maybe just to hear your voice again."
Shemmy's stomach flipped.
She forced a cool smile.
"Business first, Daevyd Kng."
He stepped closer.
Just enough for his cologne to wrap around her.
Soft sandalwood and something uniquely him.
"We'll see about that."
She walked away.
Hips swaying naturally.
Feeling his eyes on her the entire way.
Back in her taxi heading to Ikeja.
Shemmy touched her neck.
Still feeling the ghost of his gaze.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
But she knew who it was.
"Hey Semilore. Or should I say Shemmy?
Already missing that smile.
Can't stop thinking about those designs…
And the woman wearing them.
Dinner tomorrow? Let's make magic happen."
She stared at the message.
Heart racing.
Thumb hovering over the reply button.
This was dangerous.
She knew it.
Daevyd Kng was trouble wrapped in charm.
But the spark?
It was already burning.
And Shemmy wasn't sure she wanted to put it out.
What would happen if she said yes?
What secrets was this tall, chocolate-skinned Yoruba man hiding behind that perfect smile?
Only time would tell.
But one thing was certain.
After today…
Nothing in her life would ever be the same again.