The Naughty Chocolatier Read online

  The Naughty Chocolatier

  Ana'Gia Wright

  Published by Penned In Blue, LLC, 2022.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE NAUGHTY CHOCOLATIER

  First edition. December 1, 2022.

  Copyright © 2022 Ana'Gia Wright.

  ISBN: 978-1735727783

  Written by Ana'Gia Wright.

  Also by Ana'Gia Wright

  A Guatreaux Family Saga

  The Agency: Reviving Resurrection

  Standalone

  Doubletake

  The Naughty Chocolatier

  Watch for more at Ana'Gia Wright’s site.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Also By Ana'Gia Wright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

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  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Soliel stared out the window as the driver followed the driveway up to an unassuming home perched atop a gentle incline of a manicured lawn. Okay, so maybe among the other homes in this neighborhood Yaddi’s house was unassuming. From the bottom of the hill, the old farm-style house with the wrap around porch seemed like an image out of one of those country television shows, the brick-front single-story abode out of place compared to the two- and three-story mansions they’d passed once entering the gated community. It gave the impression of this house being an original construction, quite possibly the only structure tucked away in the woods; a private lake front sanctuary of years gone by.

  Like with everything else though, progress crept in. Plots of land sold off until the world outside the surrounding wall of trees encroached on the tranquility, albeit a structured and calculated intrusion for those with funds enough to snap up acreage and build their dreams.

  Our vehicle pulled into the turn-around and the man in a black suit and tie rushed around to the rear passenger door to help me out of the plush SUV. I’d opted for a real car service forgoing a regular ride share considering the four suitcases and trunk I traveled with. My entire life packed in the bags as I sought a new beginning from a crumbled past.

  I shooed the driver on to the task of unloading my life from the back of his vehicle. Slinging the carryon bag of immediacies over my shoulder, I started the trek over the brick walkway to the entryway of the house.

  The front door swung open as I approached, my best-friend, Yaddi, bouncing from foot to foot, her fro bobbing in time as she waited for me to pass the last rocking chair before dashing out the door and engulfing me in one of those old big-momma hugs I’d so missed.

  A hefty woman who always held her own, Yaddi knew what she wanted in life and went after it. Damn what others thought. With a warm smile and boisterous personality, she could brighten up any room or make a person feel minuscule with a flick of the wrist.

  “Hey girl!” Yaddi exclaimed a little too close to my ear, her arm full of bangles cool against my bare back.

  I leaned out of the hug, though I didn’t really want too, as I struggled to maintain my composure. I was on the verge of tears; the Georgia heat did little for my asthma. I needed to get into the air conditioning and fast. I offered a questionable smile, the kind that said I’m trying to save face and failing miserably.

  “Let’s get you situated.”

  “But...”

  Yaddi waved off my protest ushering me into the house with the driver on our heels toting two bags. We rounded the corner, a tall shirtless and shoeless brown skinned guy in grey sweatpants, ladies y’all know what that means, cut his eyes in our direction as he leaned casually against the island.

  Embarrassed, for more than one reason, I said, “My bad. I didn’t know you had company.”

  The man crossed his muscular arms, giving me the once over, his tongue rolling across his teeth beneath his lips like he liked what he saw.

  “Who Dwayne? Girl Dwayne is a lot of things. But company, ain’t one of them.”

  With a hitchhiker’s jerk of her thumb, Yaddi directed Dwayne to assist the driver with the rest of my things as she guided me to a door next to the single step up that led to another entrance and a hallway to the back of the house.

  “I thought you might like your own space, so the in-law suite is all yours.”

  We descended the staircase, which to my surprise, didn’t lead to a damp dark dungeon basement. It really was a total in-law suite furnished with black leather movie theater seating, giant television hung from the wall, private bedroom, bathroom, and full kitchen.

  “Wow.” My jaw dropped as I took it all in. The wall of sliding glass doors led out to an in-ground pool, grassy yard with a trampoline and... “Wait, is the lake actually this close?”

  “Really Soliel? When have you known me not to have lakefront with immediate access? And heads up, the pool is saltwater.”

  Yaddi was right, even when she resided in the heart of the hustle and bustle of New York City she kept a condo on Myrtle beach. Something about always needing to reconnect with the sea.

  Still in awe, I crossed the room taking in the sea green of the pool water. “Looks like you are living it up.”

  ‘And now,” Yaddi stepped to the side allowing Dwayne to make his way down the stairs, “so are you.”

  “I won’t be in your hair long.”

  “Take all the time you need. It’ll be nice to have someone else here. I don’t know what I was thinking when I bought this big ass house.”

  “Big? If this is a big ass house, then what do you call what you neighbors have?”

  She laughed, “Obnoxious.”

  I joined in Yaddi’s merriment, just for a second though as my thoughts drifted back to the ever-growing list of to-do's vying for the shining top spot.

  “You mind opening the gate? I’d rather not try to lug that trunk down these stairs.”

  The deep rumble of Dwayne’s voice sent a shiver up my spine. I steadied my hand as I reached for the latch and opened the sliding glass door. Yaddi moved up behind me, the creaking of the stairs indicating Dwayne’s retr
eat.

  I felt her hesitation, that motherly alarm system of hers blaring, “You, okay?” she asked in a gentle tone.

  My arms circled her body, gaze lingering on a white spot out on the lake, “I will be.”

  “I’m here when you’re ready to talk.”

  Yaddi gave me a quick hug before disappearing around the side of the house to open the gate. We did need to talk. So many secrets I needed to purge, and not just about the demise of my marriage. Checking the time, I rushed back to her new kitchen where I’d dropped my bag, the alarm on my phone indicating it was time to start the next leg of my daily pill party.

  After retrieving my carryon bag, I slipped into the bathroom and secured the door behind me. The bathroom was almost as large as the bedroom, with a full walk-in closet, separate makeup vanity, immaculate tiled steam shower, and dual sinks. Whoever designed the place tended to every detail from matching stainless-steel handles to the funky designed chandelier in the closet. It all fit together nicely against the black and white marble with a splash of red trim.

  On to the ritual. I lined the orange bottles with white tops up on the vanity counter in order of number of pills. Two, two, two, one, one. I was down to five different medications from sixteen, a manageable enough number to start a pill pack service to not have to lung around a boat load of bottles or torture myself once a week dividing the pills into containers for travel.

  Not that I traveled much as of late. The discovery of my husband’s infidelity led to my reclusiveness. The decision wreaked havoc on my already struggling immune system. What was the point? Why care about anything? The illness. The meds. Hell, life itself. That was until Yaddi showed up on my doorstep furious at being ignored and avoided. I understood her worry, her mind probably in as much of a dark space as I’d felt. I was slowly killing myself, and Yaddi had thought I was dead.

  She’d nursed me for a week where I’d spilled my guts about Daniel leaving me for some healthy highbrow hussy. While I kept the specifics to a minimum sooner or later, I planned for her to hear the full story. Luckily, I’d managed to hide my sickness then, Yaddi attributing my weakness and discomfort to stress. However, private space or not, I won’t be able to do the same living under her roof.

  I plucked a tissue from the box in the corner, dividing out the pills and taking them with the last of the water from the bottle from the plane. For the first time in months, I looked at myself in the mirror. The long curly lace-front wig. Splash of demure pink lipstick. Airbrush foundation and golden eyeshadow professionally applied before my departure. It was all wrong. All Celestial Soliel Divine Brodie and I was sick of it.

  I flung the bathroom door open with newfound commitment to wash away the façade and again walk in my truth. I’d become a person I no longer desired to be under the watchful eyes of Daniel Brodie and I was done with that. I no longer had any ties to the man aside from the next ten years of alimony payments, full medical coverage, and the seven-figure chunk of change Yaddi’s attorney friend had convinced Daniel it was in his best interest to fork over. Before we married, I warned him Yaddi wasn’t one to be played with and attempting to screw over her friend was like a sheep prancing into a lioness den. It would not end well.

  I found Yaddi perched on one of the dinette table bar stools scrolling through her phone acting like she wasn’t waiting on me to come out and spill my guts.

  “You ready to talk yet?” She said not bothering to advert her eyes from the glowing screen.

  “Not yet. And not here.”

  That made her lower the phone, “What do you have in mind?”

  “Girl’s night?” Even I heard the devilishness in my voice.

  “I’m game if you are?”

  I scanned the room, mentally inventorying the bags to determine which ones I needed to rummage through. “Give me a couple of hours to settled in. “

  “No problem. I’m sure I can find entertainment to my liking...until then.” And up the stairs she went.

  Chapter Two

  Barely five, our driver pulled into the driveway. Excited out of our wits as we dashed out the door leaving Dwayne to his own devices, or quite possibly passed out from exhaustion, I slid into the rear passenger door held open by the driver with Yaddi’s wide hips and thick thighs competing with my own forcing me over to the other side of the seat. Our driver closed the door, rounding the vehicle from the rear before easing back into the driver’s seat. He offered soda, sparkling water, chocolate of which we declined before introducing himself and pulling out of the driveway.

  “Why are you staring at me like I’ve grown another head?” I leaned into the soft leather seats of the Genesis G90 taking in the confusion on Yaddi’s face. Our driver, a perky Black guy named Armond who kept glancing back at us in the rearview mirror flashing a chipped front tooth smile, took the highway headed north on I-75 towards downtown.

  Yaddi did her classic Southern Belle hand over her cleavage in surprise move, “I’m just still in awe.”

  “Of what? I haven’t forgotten when I came from.”

  “Could have fooled me,” she quipped, eye roll included.

  “Okay now. You really want to go there with me.”

  Yaddi’s hand drifted across the seat, fingers running up the side of my thigh as she bit her bottom lip. Her voice dropped, and I felt Armond’s eyes on us, “Now you know I wouldn’t mind....”

  I slapped her hand away, “I didn’t mean that.”

  She snickered, a little on the hey-I’m-just-testing-the-waters side before shifting in her seat to gawk at me.

  “Seriously though,” her fingers tucked part of my oversized puff behind my ear sliding the rhinestone bobby pin back to keep it in what she deemed to be a more acceptable place. “When’s the last time I’ve seen your real hair? And wait,” she grabbed my arm easing the silver cuffed bracelet off, “Is this new ink?”

  I’d forgotten about the tattoo. Our girl’s nights fell few and far between after my marriage and ultimate move seven hundred miles away. And when Yaddi visited we did these dinner dates in fancy restaurants. Daniel loathed my tattoos, so I tended to cover them with makeup. The one on my wrist was only a couple of years old. A three-dimensional gimbal. If she was impressed by this one, she was gonna flip over the Phoenix on my back that played the chorus of Erykah Badu’s Next Lifetime with a special app on my phone.

  “It's a few years old.”

  “Can’t be.” Her brow furrowed as she studied the image closer by twisting my arm in an uncomfortable position. “I don’t remember seeing it the last time I came up.”

  “Now you know Daniel...” She cut me off before I finished the thought. We’d agreed, no ex talk tonight.

  Relinquishing my arm she said, “any others?”

  “Maybe.” I teased, scooting closer to the door on my side to stare at the Atlanta streets as we wove our way down College Ave.

  Armond dropped us in our old stomping grounds. A strip of homes converted into restaurants, trendy shops, and a yoga studio on the main street. The side streets remained residential though the signage indicated not all of the neighbors were keen on the mixed transformation. A MARTA train roared by as we entered the brick front restaurant with old school charm and the glorious scent of fresh ground coffee permeating from the front counter.

  Since Yaddi made reservations, I meandered over to check out the desserts in the display case deciding that before I left, I needed to fully indulge in a slice of triple chocolate mousse cake. When we were seated, I waved off the offered menu knowing exactly what I wanted.

  “Shrimp and grits. Hot Chocolate, and a slice of that chocolate mousse cake. You can bring dessert first.”

  The auburn-haired girl with dark eyeliner and freckles scribbled my order on her little notepad and by the time she completed the task, Yaddi rambled off something about salmon as I took in the surroundings. Sun in My Belly was just as I remembered it. A quaint little café with the best food and best service. We’d sneak over here around this time aft
er class to grab a snack before hitting the clubs or parties for the night. So many great memories.

  “I’m glad this place is still here,” I said my eyes drifting to the artwork hung from the interior brick walls. I often wonder what the place was like before it was converted into a restaurant. Had it always been a storefront, maybe a pharmacy or grocery? Or maybe a family once inhabited these cozy rooms.

  “Me too. I occasionally meet clients here. Mostly small business owners without corporate boardrooms.”

  Good. Start out with something other than why I’d really asked to come back to the A and squat at her house for an undisclosed amount of time. “How is business?”

  ‘Maddening. Especially with these newfound calls for diversity. But you know how I roll. Put up and implement or don’t waste your time calling. I have more business than I know what to do with. I can get you in on it if you want to learn. You been around this circus as long as I have and the system I use is not that complicated.”

  Yaddi worked as a diversity consultant. One of the best in the business. Her reputation for lasting change preceded her and anyone even remotely considering her services knew two things for sure: she didn’t come cheap, and she didn’t half-ass do the job. She expected fifty percent of her negotiated fee up front and staggered payments due upon each complete implementation stage. If a client didn’t follow through, then they went to the bottom of her waitlist which gave them roughly a year to get their shit together and get serious or opt to discontinue her services. At $400 - $600 an hour Yaddi knew her worth and in the current climate she had corporate bigwigs rolling out all the stops just to get on her radar as a potential client.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said as our server returned with my hot chocolate and cake and Yaddi’s wine.

  When the woman scampered away Yaddi asked, “Not drinking?”

  “I should eat first. I’ve had a long day. Stagnant recycled airplane air and all.”

  Accepting my explanation, she took a sip of wine, “I’m serious about the job though. I typically turn down the smaller clients just because I feel like I can make a bigger impact with the Fortune 500s.”