It has been exactly three weeks since that disastrous Calabar weekend and Lucas had been so caught up in work he barely had time to think about his relationship or his personal life. Following the production of the revolutionary lubricants line he introduced, his father, Eric Caspian-Asiegbu and the board of directors at CAPPEL had reviewed that a major share in the tourism sector was the next big thing. Citing his success on being the biggest supporter of the annual Polo tournament in Abuja, they believed same could be done in Lagos and he was, literally, the man for the job.

Two weeks ago, bidding for the project in partnership with the Minister of Tourism, Mr. Darkle was done and the project was awarded to CAPPEL due to Mr. Archibong's help. And even though he and the pot bellied man were partners on the hospitality arm, the polo resort was an individual project which meant Mr. Archibong would not gain much in monetary terms and hence would not find the arrangement funny. He, as expected, did not and had retaliated in kind by stealing a shopping mall bid from right under their noses.

Asides, things were at a standstill in his personal life. He hadn't spoken or seen Sara since that morning. She was being careful to keep out of his way, it seemed. Of course, she met with her son every Saturday like agreed and Freddie would not stop gushing about how much fun he always had whenever she visited. He hated hearing about her, or that she was happy in her life while loneliness was trying very successfully to drown him. He hated thinking or remembering her.

It was obvious he missed her terribly with the rate his thoughts always drifted to their times together. He didn't even comprehend why she was the only woman that made him feel things. She made him feel so alive it overshadowed their five year separation. And the more he missed her, the more he burrowed into his work to erase the thoughts plaguing him, rarely having time for himself and consequently, less time for his son.

Today was a very busy day at the office though. He had closed the deal with Mr. McHale, his South African partner on the polo resort in Victoria Island and construction was bound to start off next week if all things were in place. The building of the polo resort was estimated to last for a period of eight weeks, give or take a week, and that meant middle of June. The rains would be well underway by the end of construction, the right moment for the growth of the lawn. If delays were encountered, the rains could affect, or possibly destroy the resort. Which ultimately meant losing money. He knew he had to put all hands at deck and not be distracted by personal issues so they wouldn't lose money. Not like he had allowed it five years ago.

He had just finished reviewing the quotation for the concrete materials Mr. McHale sent him over the weekend for the new project, when a knock sounded on his door. He looked up instantaneously to find his cousin, Martin dressed in white polo and black jeans which he paired with a leather brown jacket, white converses and dark shades. If Lucas didn't know better, he'd think him a bachelor.

"Yo, man. What's up?!" He heralded, spraying him arms out and made a spin on his toes which caused a smile to flicker on the billionaire's lips. He seemed be in a jovial mood, Lucas thought. Well, he was always happy. Nothing ever seemed to get him down.

"Is there a particular reason why you are wearing a leather jacket in this weather?"

"Yes, because it's time for me to go live my life."

He raised his brows in suspicion. "Aren't you supposed to be working on marketing strategies for the new products?"

Martin removed his shades and grinned. "Nope, I don't have work to do."

Lucas sighed, agreeing that marketing was not that much workload especially since he has people doing the actual work for him. "I pity your subordinates."

Martin didn't though as he strolled to go plop himself on one of the chairs facing the huge mahogany desk before placing his legs on the desk, a smirk on his face.

"I won't even bother with you, Martin, cause unlike you, I have work to do," he pointed out, concentrating his attention on the file he held. He needed to finish this today so he could focus on other things.

"That's your problem, Lucas. You always take things too seriously!"

"And that's why I'm a billionaire and you're not," he jeered, feeling smug about rubbing that in. Though paternal cousins, with Martin being a year older, they always acted like siblings with all the squabbles and mischiefs to boot since they lived close to each other while growing up.

"Ha, ha. Very funny," his cousin retorted sarcastically and rolled his eyes. "You know money isn't everything, right?"

"You don't have to tell me twice," scoffed the man behind the desk, snapping the file shut. Although he confided in Martin what happened in Calabar, they didn't delve into topics about how he felt concerning the whole issue. Even presently, he still didn't want to talk about it. But all Martin needed to lure him into going out to have fun was to rile him up. A tactic he had used effectively seven years ago that brought Sara into his life.

"Which is exactly why you need to relax and have fun. You've made enough money to last you till you're ninety. That is, if you'll live that long with the way you stress yourself," Martin sniggered, sizing him up.

"I don't want to relax and have fun. It is not expedient for me right now."

Annoyed at his stubbornness, Martin stood up from the chair and marched to the other side of the desk, dragged him up and out of his chair to his complete astonishment. The older man did not stop until they rounded the desk and Lucas was able to pull away from the fierce grip.

"What the heck is wrong with you? I'm a businessman not a child. Stop treating me like one!" He fumed, more ashamed that Martin was able to drag him out of his chair so easily than of the fact that he actually did. He eyed his physique in consternation. When did he begin to weigh so little?

"If Mohammed won't go to the mountain," was the obvious reply. "Seriously, Lucas, I love you as a brother but you annoy me sometimes. Stop. Don't beat yourself up about it. You guys argued, you fought, you broke up. It happens, get over it," he admonished, his features serious.

"I'm not beating myself up about it."

"Really? Then what do you call this rigmarole of business ventures that you have lined up? You have produced a revolutionary lubricants line for this company and we'll still be earning lots of profit from it in the next five years. You don't need to kill yourself for us. Take some time out and enjoy yourself. CAPPEL won't go under if you're not CEO for a day," his eyes were alight with mischief, an indication that he had the whole fun day idea planned out.

Lucas sighed tiredly in resignation. There was no talking Martin out of this agenda so he didn't bother. Besides, he needed the break terribly. As it was, he was starting to see stars on the quotation file he was perusing earlier. Lack of balanced diet and adequate sleep was beginning to take its toll on him. He eyed the clown in front of him. How was he able to drag him out of his chair again?

"This better be worth it. I cannot spend six hours of my blasted life looking at drunk men dancing on stage at a bar in the middle of the day," he warned, cringing at one of the absurd ideas Martin had come up with one time.

The fool had the grace to chuckle before striding intently towards the door. "Just you wait and see," he mocked.

An hour later and Lucas was wishing he had stood his ground about having a fun day out. They were at a bar, high class, but a bar nonetheless. And instead of drunk men dancing butt naked on tables, they were playing pools and throwing darts. It was like a comical show as the criteria to receiving six darts was a generous swig of whiskey shots. It was obvious the organisers of the event were purposely trying to empty their kegs on the dazed customers. Since alcohol did a good job of impairment of the sense of balance, throwing darts on the bull's eye was a damn impossible feat, but it didn't stop any of the customers from trying. Instead the winning prize, a brand new Infiniti Jeep spurred them on even more.

Now, Lucas and Martin were waiting in line to get tickets to their pool table since the former thought throwing darts was a stupid idea and the latter did not particularly feel confident throwing darts while intoxicated. He had his male ego to consider.

"I know we don't need the Jeep but wouldn't it be cool if you won it. I mean, I'm sure any of these campus girls would appreciate my heartfelt gift," Martin murmured, eyeing the young waitresses dressed in short black flair gowns that paraded the open area of the bar.

Lucas refrained from asking him what he meant by the second statement. Judy, his wife, will handle that knowledge expertly. "Why do I need to win it? Why can't you do it?"

"You're better at holding your liquor than either of us ever could," he replied as if it should be obvious. James was a lightweight, Lucas the wine maker's son and he, well, was found dilly dallying somewhere in between.

When he did not counter the statement, Martin looked at him squarely. "Which begs the question why or how you could have gotten drunk that night all those years ago?"

Lucas moved away from him, collecting the ticket and heading towards the pool. The waiter set up the balls for them and made his exit. He then picked up his stick and positioned himself ready to strike the cue ball.

"You don't gain anything by ignoring me you know."

"I really do not want to discuss that point. It's obsolete anyways."

"How is it obsolete? This is the reason why you're in this mess with Sara. Don't you think she has to right to know?"

"And what would it change?" He asked, getting frustrated at this insistence. "Absolutely nothing. I've lost five years with her because of this, I'm not prepared to lose more. It doesn't matter what exactly happened that night. The damage has been done and there's no reversal to it."

Martin sighed, deciding to let the matter go. He was right though. If she didn't believe him all those years ago, she wouldn't now. The mistake was in letting the scandal get out of hand. They had been so preoccupied with the embezzlement issue they had completely overlooked the fact that night was merely a show orchestrated by Karen Thomas. By the time they uncovered the plot, it was too late. Lucas was a divorcee with a four month old son who depended on him for everything and an ex-wife who loathed him.

His eyes caught the men by the dartboard arguing about whose throw was nearer the bullseye. It was ridiculous and he and Lucas could easily best them. Lucas looked up from the pool table to find his mind distracted by the loud chants from the dartboard area.

"Won't you play or is that 'cacophony' more interesting?"

Martin shrugged, "You have to admit that the car is eye-catching."

He glanced at the view behind him, taking note of the sight his cousin had observed earlier. "Tell me why you need that car and I'll win it for you," he propositioned, trying to catch him red-handed.

"Seriously, my heart bleeds when I see all those beautiful girls walking home under the hot sun everyday. I want to help out anyway I can." He paused to rearrange his thoughts. "Do you know younger girls taste better in bed?"

Lucas picked up a black ball and flung it at his head in annoyance. "Those are not the words a happily married man with three kids should be saying."

"But its true!" He was unapologetic, rubbing his forehead where the ball had made his mark. "Besides, what Judy doesn't know won't know her."

Lucas rolled his eyes in defeat at the gleam in his cousin's eyes. He was completely hopeless.

"So, you playing or what?"

Thirty minutes later and Lucas could swear Martin had an identical twin. So much for being able to hold his liquor, he grimaced. Turns out the game was rigged, sort of. There were minor levels before claiming the grand prize and so far they had managed to win a fluffy pink handcuff and a case of cigar. The handcuff he could find usage for but the cigar beat his imagination.

After three rounds of darts and about ten shots, they were among the top contenders. The other two were red-eyed and one was practically swaying to a silent beat. Bearded guy did not blink, Tattoo guy held no fear and Dancer could barely stay still. Lucas heard Martin chanting or fangirling, he couldn't be sure, urging him on as he downed another shot. Right now, he felt no sensation anymore from the shots- it was like drinking water- but the effects were gradually accumulating. He schooled himself to not think about the massive hangover he would have later.

He watched Dancer stumble from his feet to go throw his darts only to plummet to the ground face first in a heap. Those that lost their bets paid up instantly. Tattoo guy stood up, since he was next and staggered to the starting line. The board swayed dangerously to the left and he threw. A man gave a loud yelp and Tattoo guy was disqualified. He wouldn't go easily and contested the game, nearly causing a brawl when he punched a man in the audience in the bid to punch the bouncers. Bearded guy threw his first two darts and got close but not exactly and Lucas heard Martin chanting his name as he collected more money from the audience. The fool was making bets with his name!

Bearded guy threw his last dart, narrowly missing the mark and hence giving Lucas the open chance to best him. Lucas stood up from his chair but swayed dangerously when he realized his legs felt like jelly. He opted to sit this one out but the chants from the crowd, especially those who had wagered heavily on him urged him on. He stood on the line and eyed the board. His palms were sweaty and the dart looked like he could lose. He was an expert at this when he had his wits about him but that was not the case now. He swayed again, nearly tumbling over the line.

Closing his eyes, he willed for the people to stop moving and for the room to stop spinning in general. He opened his eyes and raised his hand to throw. He swayed for the third time but was completely taken by surprise when he felt rather than saw himself somersaulting uncontrollably for the floor. He had been pushed!

Martin screamed foul play, pointing fingers at Bearded guy but he had supporters who stood up to his defense. Still sitting comfortably on the floor because he didn't quite trust his legs, a brawl broke out. No one knew who threw the first punch, it hardly mattered but in a matter of minutes, men were smashing bottles and shots on top each others head. The stronger ones among them opted to use their fists to disfigure faces, even he was not left out.

Tattoo guy, who had managed to sneak back in, grabbed him up from the floor before delivering a blow that sent him falling down again. He felt his nose crack and a red liquid trickled down instantly.

In the midst of the chaos, Martin crawled to him on the floor where he sat, surprisingly bearing no scratch on him. "Who would have thought huh? A CEO involved in a bar brawl. This is definitely front page news!"

Despite himself, Lucas burst out laughing at the image. "My dad would definitely have a fit." He groaned when his face muscles contracted at the action.

"Come on, let's go before the police shows up here," Martin said, pulling him along as they crawled on their knees towards the nearest exit.

"Is this your idea of a fun day out? It's horrible just so you know!" He spat out in anger.

"The horrible thing is not winning that car. And we were so close!" Martin cried in dismay while stuffing the bet money inside his pockets.

Together they made their way to the car park and escaped before the police or media found them. Martin dropped him off at his mansion and he was glad Freddie was spending the school holidays with his parents. He really couldn't deal with a chattering kid that had a formidable voice.

The next morning, Lucas woke up groggily to the sound of grown men marching for war inside his head. He was barely out of bed when his phone rang. Checking the time he groaned to realise he had woken up late. Luckily, he had the sense to put ice on his nose last night before he slept or it would have been swollen. He answered the phone and placed the mouthpiece behind his ear as he strolled to his bathroom to go freshen up.

"Lucas here, what's up?" He asked, picking up his toothbrush. His mouth tasted like sandpaper.

The caller ID had showed James and he wondered what the efficient employee wanted. They had concluded all arrangements concerning the lubricants line and hence he was practically freelancing.

"You need to get here as soon as possible," he stated sharply. "Someone is stealing from the company and I'm afraid you won't like this."

~~~~~~~~~

Guys, I want to say a massive 'thank you' for supporting my book but I wish to use this medium and trouble you guys to go take a look at my girl's book titled: Beneath the Surface by Iyanuoluwa-Temi. You'll definitely love it, I promise.😊❤

Fact: I totally imagined a brawl scene when I thought about what they could do for fun. But drinking heavily during the day doesn't quite fit into the image in my head 😐😞

And oh, James said someone is stealing from the company. Can you guess who it is? 😛😏

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