King

There were two types of ladies - the punctual ones and others. The others group were of three categories: those who were always a few minutes late, the I'm almost there, can't you see me while they were still sitting at home and then the let me just apply my makeup I'll be there in a minute only to end up arriving minutes, if not hours later.

Twenty minutes after calling Tibiebi Bassey for the second time this evening, I realized that she was in the others category, the worst type of all. This was my first encounter with that category as I always went for the punctual ones or the first category and the only reason I was still seated here was because I needed her help.

The first time I called her, she claimed she was about to apply her lipstick, the second time, she was about to leave the house, the third and fourth time, she didn't pick.

Taking a sip from the glass of water in front of me, an image of the caramel skin vixen with eyes the colour of wet ash reared itself, unlocking memories I chose to forget. The way her brown lips had pressed together into a straight line to keep from talking, the manner in which she pulled the corner of her left eye to stop the twitching and the threatening look that crossed her face had me wanting to push her buttons a little bit more.

On a cold Saturday morning, I could imagine those lips on certain parts of my body and her long legs wrapped around my waist while we moved together in a rhythm that was sure to bring both of us to the brink of ecstasy.

Ass instead of assignment?

That was a quick lie that amazed even me.

"What has got you smiling like that?" Turning my head in the direction in which the voice came from, the world around me slowed as my gaze landed on Tibiebi.

She was garbed in a wine ruffle off shoulder jumpsuit that showed a decent amount of cleavage with a silver belt decorating her cinched waist. Black curls framed her madeup face, complementing fair skin that seemed to be glowing. Her whole ensemble was completed by the nude block high heeled sandals on her feet; she was oozing confidence.

Standing up to greet her, my arms automatically went around her waist while my lips aimed for her cheek. She must have had other ideas though because she turned just in time for our lips to meet in a chaste kiss.

"My apologies for coming late," she smiled sultrily, relishing in the stupefied look on my face at her brazen action and the lustful glances of the other men seated at the tables she walked past.

She looked nothing like the woman I met at the golf course; that female was short and sweaty but the lady seated across me, leisurely taking a sip from my half-empty glass of lime water could dominate the world if she chose to.

A foreign emotion took over me, one that added to my unpreparedness of meeting this version of Tibiebi. I crossed and uncrossed my legs under the table, furiously thinking up a better plan that would see both of us leaving this restaurant happy with my proposal.

"You look good," she continued, undeterred by my lack of response.

My eyes trailed from the swell of her breasts to her manicured nails that were placed protectively over her silver purse and back to her face, slightly taken aback by her compliment. Flattery and praises were two of the methods I employed in getting the ladies to loosen up, attributes that they highly appreciated.

"So do you, Tibi," I paused, waiting for her to call me out for using the shortened version of her name but she didn't. "I was beginning to think you would never show up," she raised a perfectly carved eyebrow, blinking cat eyes at me before shaking her head.

"Nice purse."

"I know what you want," we said at the same time.

"Ladies first," she rolled her eyes at my statement, a sly smile quickly replacing her initial look of annoyance. I masked my growing anxiety with a shrug, afraid for her next words; they could make or mar my future at Madiba.

"I know you want my father to sell his land to you but in truth, it doesn't belong to him." Subconsciously, my fingers ran over my tie, a habit formed out of nervousness. If she was right, then this meeting was a waste of time.

Still wary, I watched as she reached for her purse, retrieving documents that had been folded neatly to fit into the small space. She pushed it to me, the heading, first line and the signatures on the last line knocking the wind out of me.

"What do you want?" I caught a glimpse of a triumphant smile that was quickly masked at my question.

"Your sperm." Mirthless laughter spilled from my lips, dying out when she gave me a blank, unimpressed look. "I'll transfer ownership of my land to you only if you agree to get me pregnant."

"No."

"I don't need the land and I never will but Madiba does," she pulled out her phone, typing furiously on the screen before nodding thoughtfully. "From my estimation and with the help of the new modular construction technique, Madiba can have their new hotel standing in six months. Just enough time to rack in enough funds to get you, Mr. King Daniels into the Forbes list of Billionaire under 30."

As a CEO, I was entitled to 20 percent of the shares from Madiba while Mr. Adams held the highest share at a rate of 55 percent. That 20 percent, when combined with the shares inherited from my elite billionaire parents, could see me on the Forbes list but it didn't explain how she knew these facts.

"Don't look so surprised, it's called research for a reason." She muttered confidently, snatching the proof of ownership that was still seated in front of me.

Chief Edward Bassey was a tactical businessman and when he announced that his first daughter was going to succeed him after his retirement, we had all laughed at the news. But now, I knew we had made a big mistake by underestimating her. Not only had she inherited her father's manipulative skill, but he had also passed down his ruthlessness which was well hidden behind her innocent smile.

If I had thought that my charms would work on her, then I was wrong. With her being the new property owner, the only way we would see our signature on the transfer of ownership documents was if she chose to let us append it there. But that was proving to be as difficult as passing a camel through the eye of a needle.

"How about, I hook you up with a man who will be happy to make babies with you." I countered. "Or better still, adopt or get a man willing to do that yourself."

"I am a beautiful 26-year-old millionaire and I have no problems finding myself a man, I simply don't need one. What I need is a child that was pushed out from my vagina." She sounded like she was giving a pitch, like the idea of having a baby was a task she had to check off her to-do list.

"You are a go-getter, assertive, handsome, smart though a playboy but that's not an issue for me; all of these qualities make you the perfect man for the job of a sperm donor." I scoffed in disbelief; I had been called many things but this was a first.

She had a lot of guts, I had to give her that. If I was not the one on the hot seat, I might have admired her bargaining skills.

"Don't answer now, take a few days to think about it. Maybe when I do take over from my father, we could even discuss a partnership between the two companies." She stood up from her seat, patting a few thousand naira notes on the table, "for your drink."

"Oh. And don't worry about those tickets, I already got mine," she added with a smile, bending down to place a sloppy kiss on my lips.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Violently wiping the residue of her kiss, my eyes landed on the naira notes she dropped and the anger I tried to keep in check unleashed itself at the sight. The faces on the note stared back at me and their lips parted in soundless laughter, mocking my predicament.

This was only the first week and it seemed like my fate had already been decided. I shook my head to rid me of the laughing faces, resisting the urge to rip the notes into multiple pieces. One thing was certain, I needed a release, one that a private session with Amber Lee could guarantee.

*****

That Tibiebi girl sha, she was not supposed to make such a strong appearance but she insisted and I just had to give her the chance. I hope y'all enjoyed seeing someone else put King in his place.

Cover on media was made by _plehthora, if you want a chapter dedicated to you, then send in your covers.