CHAPTERSIX
1257 Words
Nuellah stood in front of the glass doors of Ceekay Luxury Boutique, her heart pounding beneath her cream satin blouse. The gold-lettered sign gleamed above her head, reflecting morning sunlight like a blessing. She smoothed her ponytail, inhaled deeply, and whispered to herself, “This is it. No turning back.”
Mirabel squealed beside her, her own storefront—Mirabel Beauty & Glow—facing directly opposite. “Babyyyy! This is giving rich independent aunties. I’m so proud of us!”
Nuellah smiled, nerves and excitement blending inside her. “We did it. I can’t believe we actually did it.”
“What do you mean can’t? My mother didn’t raise a doubter!” Mirabel flicked her braids. “Now open these doors, so money can enter!”
With a laugh, Nuellah turned the key, and Ceekay Luxury officially opened.
Within minutes, customers started trickling in—two women from the neighborhood who’d followed her blog, a young man buying a gift for his girlfriend, a mother wanting a classy blazer for work. The racks of curated dresses, tops, bags, and jewelry glowed under soft lighting. The place had a clean, elegant vibe that made people linger.
Mirabel’s store also attracted customers; her first sale happened before Nuellah could even warm her chair.
“Excuse me, boss lady!” Mirabel shouted across the walkway path between their stores. “I hereby declare today a success!”
“Focus on your customers, clown!” Nuellah yelled back, laughing.
Everything was going beautifully.
But in another part of Lagos, someone else had just learned about Ceekay Luxury.
Ethan saw the post. And paused.
He had been scrolling through market reports when one unrelated notification from the business inspiration blog he randomly followed caught his attention:
“I Finally Opened My Store ❤️ — Ceekay Luxury is live!”
The profile picture made his breath still for half a second.
The girl from the restaurant.
He clicked the post. Short write-up. Soft smile. Ribbon-cutting moment. A few photos of her shelves.
He zoomed in on her face without even realizing it.
Why the hell am I smiling?
He had no reason to be interested. Yet he found himself reading the caption twice. Then memorizing the address.
His assistant, Victor, eyed him subtly. “Sir, your meeting—”
“Shift it to tomorrow,” Ethan said, standing up.
“Uh… the meeting with the senators?”
“Shift it.”
Victor blinked. “Yes sir.”
Ethan grabbed his keys, trying to look normal. But for someone who rarely left the office unless necessary, it was obvious—something had hooked him.
He left for the store.
After office hours, he arrived wearing a simple black shirt and tailored trousers—nothing flashy. He didn’t want to draw attention. Ceekay Luxury’s exterior looked smaller than he imagined, but the inside… warm, elegant, intentional.
He stepped in quietly, but his presence still made the air shift.
Victor followed behind him like a shadow. “Sir, this seems—”
“I’m just buying clothes,” Ethan cut in.
Victor wisely shut up.
Nuellah did not recognize him. At all.
“Hello, welcome!” she said brightly without looking up, arranging a row of blazers. “Everything on the right shelf is discounted today. Do let me know if you need help.”
Her voice was the same.
That soft but firm tone.
It hit him unexpectedly, and he froze a second before answering.
“I’ll… take a look.”
He picked a jacket. A shirt. A set of cufflinks he didn’t even need.
Victor raised a brow. “You don’t wear silver, sir.”
“Shut up,” Ethan murmured.
When he approached the counter, Nuellah smiled politely, still not connecting the dots. “Did you find everything you wanted?”
Ethan tilted his head. “…Yes.”
She scanned the items. “Your taste is nice. You look like someone who prefers clean, minimal luxury.”
His heart stuttered.
Why was she reading him like that?
Victor choked on a laugh quietly.
Ethan shot him a look that could erase a generation.
Payment processed. Bag packed. And still—not a hint of recognition. It bothered him more than he expected.
He cleared his throat. “You don’t remember me?”
She blinked, confused. “Uh… sorry, should I?”
Before Ethan could respond—
Mirabel’s voice exploded from the doorway.
“OH! Restaurant boy!”
Nuellah turned sharply. “Who?”
“That guy from the hotel restaurant!” Mirabel pointed at Ethan excitedly. “Remember? The one you called charity-allergic!”
Nuellah gasped softly as realization fell on her like a wave. “Oh—OH!”
Ethan stood there, expression blank but mortified.
Victor pressed both lips together, aggressively holding laughter hostage.
Nuellah slapped a hand over her mouth. “I am so sorry—I didn’t even notice you with the shirt, you look… different.”
Ethan’s brow lifted. “Different good or different bad?”
Her eyes scanned him—subtle but noticeable. “Different… corporate villain with soft-boy tendencies.”
Victor wheezed.
Ethan’s jaw flexed. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“Take it however your ego allows,” she teased.
A brief, unexpected spark lit between them.
Mirabel smirked from the door. “I’ll leave you two. This energy is… too much for me.”
She disappeared into her store with the speed of gossip.
Nuellah faced Ethan again. “Thank you for patronizing me. I wasn’t expecting… you.”
Ethan shoved his hands in his pockets. “I saw your post.”
“You follow my blog?” she asked, amused.
“… I follow many things.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He ignored that. She grinned.
Her presence had a strange ability to unsettle him in a way he didn’t hate.
Nuellah nodded toward the shopping bag. “Since you’re here, do you want us to help you style the shirt? I can suggest pieces.”
“I already bought more than I need,” he said stiffly.
“That was obvious,” she muttered.
He narrowed his eyes. “Is that your customer service voice?”
“No, that’s my honesty voice.”
Victor whispered, “Sir, she’s roasting you for free.”
Ethan extended the bag toward her. “Keep the change.”
She raised a brow. “You’re returning the favor. Truly, you are allergic to charity.”
That landed harder than she meant.
He paused. A long, unreadable stare. Like she had peeled back a layer he kept guarded.
“… You see too much,” Ethan murmured.
“I only see what you don’t hide well,” she said softly.
Something shifted between them—quiet, charged, unspoken.
Before anything deeper could surface, Ethan straightened, smirk tugging at his lips.
“Enjoy your evening, Miss Ceekay Luxury.”
She mimicked his tone. “Enjoy yours, Mr… charity-allergic.”
Victor held the door as Ethan stepped out.
But Ethan didn’t walk away immediately.
He looked through the glass—just once—as Nuellah turned to assist another customer, eyes bright, passion alive.
He shouldn’t care.
Yet he did.
Too much.
He finally entered the car, jaw tense.
Victor fastened his seatbelt. “Sir… should I add this place to your regular stops?”
Ethan paused.
“…Maybe.”
Victor smiled knowingly.
Ethan ignored him, staring once more at the store sign glowing softly in the evening breeze.
- Writer
