His broad muscular shoulder wrapped in an olive green jacket flexed just as his fingers coiled around his palm and held tight. His obstinate jaw twitched and his nostrils flared, forcing his dark pupils to contract as a result. Expelling a breath from his thin lips, he channelled his dark irises on the multimedia screen in front of him.

One skim was all it took before his brown leather clad feet were firmly planted on the carpeted floor supporting over six feet of muscles in a upright, rigid stance. With one armani leather placed in front of the other, he soon found himself in front of the glass panelled window. The golden streaks of sunlight filtered through to cast a bronze tan on his dark skin tone, bathing him in a golden halo.

Being exposed to the calming effects of the morning sun relaxed his nerves a bit, forcing his fists to unclench. Slim, unfurled palms found their way into the pockets of the trouser, the same hue as the jacket, and a rush of stuffed air rushed out, briefly staining the glass with moisture.

"Do we know why?"

Adjusting the heavy rimmed spectacles a notch on the bridge of his hawk-like nose, the noticeably thin man, with a lighter skin tone in comparison to the statue metres apart from the glass, spared the tablet between his grasp a glance before replying.

"They are offering him a sizeable amount of shares in their company if he used their importing services."

"What about exporting?"

"Nigerian market isn't exactly keen on..."

The sharp, mirthless chuckle that silenced the serenity of the room had goosebumps rising on his skin.

Turning slightly, about an angle that allowed him to regard the assistant without undue stress, he snorted,

"The Esoghans aren't offering shares in their exporting line because they are crooks. Absolute, positive frauds." Turning back to his original stance, he added in frustration, "I don't understand why my father insists on bringing them into this company. I would never work with them even if my life depended on it."

Greg opted to add that he had no choice in the matter since he wasn't the chairman yet, but he hated the thought of unemployment so he bit his lips instead.

Annoyed with the crossroad he found himself, Gabriel moved to his desk before settling into the chair, hands stretched out and ready to resume work.

His assistant eyed him warily, wondering what was going on in his mind. It was unlike his boss to accept defeat. Even when he knew he was out of options, or favors, he would always manage to squeeze out alternatives that helped him get the job done.

The end justifies the means, after all.

Sighing deeply, Greg decided to help out however he could. The cassava flour production was a great deal and it would be a shame to watch the effort go to waste because of pride. Gabriel would never solicit for help from people he already wrote off as worthless, and Raphael would never give him the satisfaction of raising his shoulders any higher than he already has.

"What is the meaning of this?" The deep timbre of the man sitting across the room had Greg snapping back into reality like a zap of electricity. The blank yet confused stare in his almond shaped eyes were unmissable.

"Why did the board cancel our project? Didn't they give their approval for its production two months ago?"

As a habit, the man nudged the rim of his glasses higher up on his nose as he formulated the best response to give. He was wisely avoiding the short end of the stick, so to speak.

"Greg, I asked you a question." His eyes were now trained on the slightly fidgeting man who gripped his tablet in a weak attempt for composure.

"They sent the mail days ago, Sir, and I tried to inquire about and rectify the situation myself before bringing it to your notice."

The latter part of his ramblings was falsehood but who, in their right mind, informed their boss that they had committed the gross act of forgetfulness?

Gabriel stretched his lips into a fine line before speaking tautly. "That is not the answer to my question."

It wasn't?

Biting his lips to prevent it from demanding a repeat of the original questiom, he turned to his tablet for help. Scrolling through the interface, he found the required mail and his mouth nearly dropped open in shock as he read out the contents.

"The reasons stated for project unapproval include overestimated budget, cost of import and export and inadequate manpower. They also cited scale of preference on the company's objectives for the year, thereby pushing the project to next year's agenda."

Taking a deep breath, he continued but not before casting a glance at the man who eyes were closed as he listened.

"In addendum, they are refusing the source of funding since it is not coming from the company's investment bank. As a result, they have began an investigation into the source of funding. They believe it's an act of financial crime and the defaulting parties will be sanctioned and indicted."

Contrary to his assumptions, Gabriel reclined back in his chair and began to chuckle, a humourless laughter judging by the sarcastic innuendo exuding from the sound. Instead of lashing out, he was hiding his annoyance under the cloak of indifference. How surprisingly odd, Greg wondered in perplexity.

"Why am I not surprised?" He sat up and faced his computer, tapping away at the keyboard. "Financial crime, my foot. If Malcolm wants me removed, he needs to do better than this."

Greg adjusted his glasses again, briefly toying with the idea of buying a new one after work today, or getting a doctor's recommendation for contact lenses. He had enough problems that would awoken a headache -woman problems, nonetheless- to worry about the power tussle between the Asika men. Besides, none of them were good, so why bother taking sides in this ridiculous war?

"What should we do about the project, Sir?"

He hated himself for asking this as his boss would find a way to insinuate he was a complete wastrel, but he couldn't watch months of sleepless nights, black coffee diets and sex deprivation go to waste. This project was their best idea, yet.

"You just informed me you had rectified the situation and I must applaud you for that, Greg." He took a second to look away from the monitor to flash him a curt smile before going back to his work. "Keep up the good work."

Keep up which stupid yeye work? Greg wondered before cursing inaudibly. His boss was downright infuriating, period. He couldn't wait for the day the man would be disgraced and ridiculed publicly.

A pop up sound dragged his attention to the electronic device he held in his hands and his face scrunched up in confusion. He watched in horror as the message attached to the notification became comprehensible. If he was any paler, the whiteness of his face would have been as clear as day.

"Sir?" He swallowed against the lump lodged in his throat. He didn't know how to word his sentence without stuttering like a fool. How could he have forgotten such an important event? Was he already that old?

The only indication that his boss gave at the attempt to win his attention was the deep lines that marred his forehead.

Biting his lips, Greg let out a deep exhale before blurting out. "Sir, the meeting with the board of directors scheduled for this morning has begun. They are waiting for you."

"I know they are." Came the offhanded reply. "I mean it's not everyday you request for a meeting with the top executives in the company and appear an hour later."

"What?!" Greg was rendered speechless. The man knew all this while, and here he was thinking the man had forgotten.

"Greg, move up the meeting with the board of directors to the next hour. I am in no hurry to talk thrash with a bunch of empty birdbrains."

His jaws dropped at the audacity of this callous man. An impromptu change in schedule would practically cause a riot in the company as every chain of command would contest this decision. As he was worried about the tardiness issue, he decided to decipher the degrading words later.

"With all due respect, Sir, I do not believe that is a good idea." He did not believe whatever egg his boss was hatching was a benign idea but the obstinate man would never take his advice. Frankly, he was not in the mood to be offering them, either.

"What do you think is a good idea, then?"

Did he not agree with himself to stop consulting just seconds ago? Was this man a witch?

"I believe you should attend the meeting, Sir. They have started probing into our project funding, so, this would be the perfect opportunity to defend it."

Somehow, the remark made more impact than Greg was aiming for. It came as a surprise, not completely, when Gabriels' fingers paused on the keys as he digested the advice his personal assistant had offered. He faced Gregory squarely before seething.

"I will not attend that sham of a meeting just to get shunned and insulted for using my own investment to make returns for this company. The days are coming when no one would have the power to challenge me or humiliate me in front of lesser men."

Shocked at the outburst, the skinny man could only stare on as his boss raged.

"Do you know how tired I am of receiving orders from my father when I should be the one giving them? Have you any idea how fed up I am with barking to his every whim?" It was all rhetorical, so Gregory refrained from responding.

"I have sacrificed my entire life and my chance at happiness for this company and I'm not about to let some greedy, ungrateful bastard take it away just because he loves his position of complete dominance."

Lost in a faraway thought, he continued to speak grimly.

"I will get my hands on that power he wields, and when I do, I will make him beg and grovel at my feet for all the times he has humiliated me."

What would have made his eloquent speech more sinister was if he followed up it up with a maniacal laugh, Greg wished, trying to pretend hearing his boss speak like this was a normal occurrence.

However, when Gabriel's lips stretched into a finely carved bow with no trace of humor in it, goosebumps filled his skin causing him to shiver in his big boy pants.

Slightly peaked, Gregory watched as the man regained his normal composure as if he did not just let out grim Gabbie before going back to his typing.

Thoughts about the meeting long gone, Greg was plesantly surprised when he shut down the computer and turned in his chair to regard him.

"You're right. This meeting is the perfect opportunity for me fight for the approval of our projects. I will not let sentiments get in the way."

Gregory nodded too, happy that thoughts of power takeover were at bay for now. Although he was no fool to know whatever Gabriel wants, Gabriel gets.

Looking around his office, Gabriel linked his fingers together before speaking in a grave tone.

"I have important and highly confidential documents secured in this room. In this world of dog eat dog, I would appreciate it if I knew you were on my side. That is the reason I will demand that you stayed put in this office for the remainder of this meeting. I do not trust anyone in this company apart from you, Greg. You must remember that."

As if a chilling breeze had blown through the air vents, an icy atmosphere enveloped the room. To clear the awkward air, Gabriel reached out and grabbed his tablet from the desk before standing from his chair and striding out of the room.

He was almost at the door when he remembered something. His back to the door, he grinned at his stupefied assistant.

"I want you to know, Gregory Ajala, that whatever evil thoughts you have conceived and wished for me, that you're not the first. There are a lot of you, in fact, so it would be nice to form a club whose sole aim is wishing me death."

Pausing to add a smirk, he continued, "I also thought it wise to let you know that I'll keep frustrating you till the day I die, even after being disgraced in front of everyone."

Greg barely refrained from flinging the tablet in his hand at the departing frame.

++++++

Thirty minutes later and boredom was begining to creep into Gregorys' bones. He adjusted the rim of his glasses to improve his vision, only to hiss before pulling it off by the edge to dust it. As if to compound his problems, a random search around his pockets yielded neither wipes nor handkerchief. Annoyed with the floor Secretary and majorly with himself, for flirting with her earlier where he assumed he had forgotten the hanky, he stood to his height in an attempt to leave the room.

He was almost at the door when the formidable voice of his employer had him halting in his step. He contemplated disobeying but he knew he would sooner be out of job faster than he could blink if Gabriel got wind of his insubordination.

Out of options, he turned around and strided towards the huge office desk intent on finding something to wipe his foggy glasses with. A scan of the workspace had Greg scoffing. The files had been neatly stacked together, the stationeries, with the tip up, had been lined neatly in a box. The jet black monitor, attached to a keyboard with similar hue, was placed strategically in the middle of the two distinct sections, giving off a surreal feel of an efficient yet detailed employer. His assistant was not surprised with the setting. The blasted boss of his associated neatness with meticulous work.

Agreeing that wasting precious time being scornful about his boss would not add substantial benefits to his life, he moved away from the desk and made for the refrigerator in the office. Somehow, a sick, twisted idea crossed his mind and he opted to live out his fantasy, even for just -he brought his watch to his eye level and hissed at the blurry image- roughly half an hour.

Pulling open the compartment, he whistled lowly at the assorted beverages and wines stacked inside with no space to fit in the stick man. He smiled cockily knowing that Gabriel would never notice if a bottle of wine or two went missing. The man was always buried in work that life passed him by in a huge blur.

Shaking his egg-shaped head from side to side, he grabbed a bottle of alcoholic red wine, smirked as the expensive label sparkled at him before standing to his full height.

Dancing lightly on his steps, he pranced to the swivel chair, made a dramatic bow to an invisible audience before sitting gracefully down. Feeling giddy for the act of insurgencency, he swirled around with the help of the chair, giggling like a little girl in front of a candy shop. By the end of the third rotation, his epinephrine had worn down drastically and he silently chided himself for being ridiculous.

Now in a somber mood, he pulled open the first drawer on the left side of the desk and dug his hand in, searching around blindly for a corkscrew. One of the benefits of being a personal assistant was the level of privy he had concerning his boss's affairs and properties. He knew where everything was in this office. Well, almost everything.

Bottle opened, glass filled twice in a row and downed, the happy hormone kicked in and Greg reclined on the chair slightly swaying. Edged on by the spirit of rebellion, he yanked the initial drawer open and pulled out a remote controller. Few punches later and soft, classical music filled the room from the speakers attached at the edges of the rectangular shaped room.

Lost in his fantasy, he forgot to calculate the actual distance between his long, scrawny legs covered by iron soled leather shoes and the upholstery. The impact was sudden and unaccounted for. Documents upon documents of different sizes and colours escaped into the air from the dozens of files piling the table as the whole arrangement went barrelling down to the floor with reckless abandon.

Greg cursed savagely in another tongue.

The white cover made by the fallen papers was in sharp contrast to the dark rug but blended nicely into it still. After minutes of sulking at the mishap and mayhem that had befallen him, Greg slid down from his high throne and knelt on the floor before gathering up the stacks one after the other.

Twenty minutes later had the fair complexioned assistant cursing and swearing in his mother tongue. As the files were about a dozen and the papers had been sorted based on correspondence, it was almost impossible to determine where each paper went. Fortunately for him, however, sorting files and documents were a part of his job description.

Panic set in when he realised the meeting should be rounding off now. As if on cue, deep, rough voices sounding from metres to his right hinted the meeting was done with. Gabriel would be on his way back as he hated dilly-dallying after important decisions had been made. In his haste, he stacked the remainder of the documents into a blank file he had separated earlier, having failed to sort them due to lack of correspondence.

He lifted the rest and placed them on the desk, in what he hoped was the original layered arrangement before bending down to lift the last file. The sound of sturdy steps coming from the passageway had him freezing on the spot. Gabriel would be livid if he were to chance upon this disarray.

Beads of already formed sweat on his forehead began to trail down his body in rapid, continuous movement and he found his grip on the files tighten. Without delay, he dumped the file on the desk, and then lifted it and stuffed it underneath in the pile after a second guess. He could swear, using memory from earlier, that the unlabelled file was not at the top of the file stacking .

In a mad dash, he grabbed the bottle and the glass and dropped them on the floor beside the table, strategically out of sight from Gabriel's view. He would be heavily sanctioned if the man suspected him of intoxication during official hours.

The doorknob was pulled and pushed in at the same time his rapidly darting eye vision caught a piece of paper lying diagonally at the base of the refrigerator. There was no doubt in his mind that this paper belonged to the last file he had sorted. Torn between awaiting his boss's return and hiding all traces of his recklessness, he made a dive for the paper instead.

Now on bended knee, he snatched the paper and his eyes inadvertently caught the words printed in bold fonts.

Ownership of forty percent shares, transferable to my great grandson.

Confused for a moment, he allowed his eyes peruse the document for any line or phrase that might explain the heading.

Deep introspection had him oblivious to his immediate surrounding, and more so, to the presence that had paused stealthily behind him. Goosebumps appeared on his skin, intermittently warning him of danger and he turned around at the exact second a heavy metal object made successful impact with his head. His auditory senses captured a cracking sound just before the world took a nosedive into a black hole.

~~~~~~~

I was outright laughing at the end of this chapter. This book is slowly turning into a mystery caricature. Please, pardon me, the secrecy is important for the plot.

Any guesses who had clobbered Gregory?

Vote and comment as many times as you like. (I'm being serious).

Thank you.