The Eko Hotel ballroom glittered under a thousand chandeliers. Waiters floated between tables, balancing champagne flutes like they were part of the décor. The air was thick with the perfume of Lagos' elite oil tycoons, governors, billionaires all gathered under the guise of charity.
Luther leaned casually against the marble bar, his eyes scanning the crowd with practiced ease. He had attended dozens of such galas, and usually the faces blurred into the same mask of polished wealth. But tonight was different. Tonight, he felt the air shift before he even saw her.
Kemi entered with her father's entourage, her dark dress flowing like it had been cut from the night itself. Cameras flashed as she paused at the entrance, and Luther caught the faintest lift of her chin, a gesture that said she wasn't here to be looked at she was here because she chose to be.
Their eyes met across the room. Neither of them looked away.
Moments later, Kemi excused herself from her father's circle of politicians and investors. She moved with quiet confidence, her heels clicking lightly against the polished floor as she approached the bar. Luther didn't move until she was beside him.
"Mr. Okonjo," she said smoothly, her voice low enough that only he could hear. "I'm surprised to see you here."
Luther turned to her, his smile faint but deliberate. "Miss Adeyemi. I could say the same. I thought your father avoided rooms where mine might be present."
A flicker of amusement touched her lips. "My father doesn't need to avoid anyone. Neither do I."
He raised a brow, studying her. "Confident. I like that." He paused, then leaned slightly closer. "But tell me, did you come over here to test me, or just to prove a point?"
Kemi didn't flinch. She picked up a champagne glass from a passing waiter and met his gaze. "Maybe both. Or maybe I just got tired of being in the middle of a conversation about golf courses and oil prices."
Luther chuckled, a low sound that surprised even himself. "Then we might have something in common. I hate golf."
For a moment, the weight of their surnames seemed to dissolve. They were just two people at a bar, speaking like equals.
But Kemi tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You know this…whatever this is… it wouldn't please our fathers."
Luther's smile sharpened. "Our fathers have had their war for years. Why should we inherit their battlefield?"
She looked at him longer this time, as though trying to measure the danger of believing him. Finally, she set her glass down, untouched.
"Careful, Mr. Okonjo," she said softly. "Wars have a way of swallowing even those who claim they don't want to fight."
And with that, she turned, disappearing back into the glittering crowd before he could reply.
Luther watched her go, a strange pull tightening in his chest. He had faced rivals, boardroom predators, and even his own father's harsh expectations. But Kemi Adeyemi was different. She was not an enemy, not yet a friend—something else entirely.
And for the first time in years, Luther felt the thrill of a challenge that had nothing to do with business.