Nocturne was the kind of place that existed in whispers. Not a club, not a regular restaurant. A private, members-only enclave atop one of Victoria Island's sleekest towers, where the music was low, the lights were lower, and transactions of all kinds occurred in plush, shadowy booths.
Peter felt every eye on him as he was led through the main room. He wore the blue shirt, as commanded, with dark trousers. He looked like he belonged, but his posture was a rod of defiance. He spotted Akanbi immediately. He was seated in the most secluded booth in the back, a throne overlooking the glittering Lagos lagoon. He wore a black shirt open at the collar, sipping what looked like neat whiskey. He was a silhouette of controlled power.
Akanbi watched him approach, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. He didn't stand.
"Peter. You came. I knew you were… pragmatic." He gestured to the plush seat opposite him. "Sit."
Peter remained standing for a beat, letting the silent challenge hang. Then he sat, not sinking into the cushions, but perching on the edge. "Let's talk about the Dantata contract, Mr. Onobanjo. What exactly do you need from me to endorse the bid?"
Akanbi's smile widened, amused by the directness. He signaled a waiter, who appeared and vanished silently, leaving a second glass of whiskey in front of Peter. "Straight to business. I admire that. But first, a drink. To new… understandings."
Peter didn't touch the glass. "I'm not here for a social call. You offered a transaction. I'm listening to the terms."
The amusement in Akanbi's eyes hardened into something sharper, more interested. The defiance was a spice he hadn't fully anticipated. "The terms are simple. My name on your bid guarantees it. My continued goodwill guarantees more. Your family's business could rise very quickly with the right patronage."
"And in return?" Peter asked, his gaze unwavering.
Akanbi leaned forward, the dim light carving the angles of his face. His voice was a velvet rumble. "In return, you spend time with me. You're an interesting distraction, Peter. I want to understand what makes you tick. I want that defiance… redirected."
"Redirected where?"
"Towards mutual pleasure," Akanbi said, the words a clear, obscene promise. "I am a man who appreciates rare things. And I take very good care of what is mine."
What is mine. The possession in his tone was absolute.
Peter finally picked up the whiskey glass. He didn't drink. He held it, feeling the cool crystal. "So, to be clear. You're offering your influence to help my family. And in exchange, you want me to become your… kept boy."
Akanbi's eyes flashed, not with offense, but with dark delight at the crude phrasing. "I prefer the term 'exclusive companion.' The benefits, as you can imagine, extend far beyond a single contract."
Peter swirled the amber liquid, his mind cold and clear. He had rehearsed this. He looked up, meeting Akanbi's hungry gaze. "And what if I'm not interested in being a 'companion,' exclusive or otherwise? What if I find the entire idea… repellent?"
Akanbi's smile didn't falter, but it turned icy. He leaned back, spreading his arms along the back of the booth. "Then you walk away. And the Dantata contract becomes the first of many impossibilities for Emmanuel & Sons. Lagos is a small ecosystem, Peter. I am the apex predator in it. You can swim with me, or you can be part of the chum."
The threat was naked now. It was no longer a seduction. It was an ultimatum.
Peter placed the glass down, untouched. He stood up. Akanbi watched him, confident that he was watching the beginning of a surrender, a negotiation of the surrender terms.
But Peter didn't sit back down. He looked down at Akanbi, his expression not of fear, but of profound, icy pity.
"You know, Akanbi," Peter said, using his first name for the first time, like dropping a stone, "all this? The money, the threats, the creepy obsession? It's just sad. It screams that you're so empty, you have to try to buy and bully people into pretending you're worth their time."
Akanbi's face went perfectly, terrifyingly blank.
"I don't want your contract," Peter continued, his voice low and carrying in the intimate space. "I don't want your money. And I would rather set myself on fire than let you touch me. You're not a predator. You're a parasite who confuses fear with respect. Stay away from me, and stay away from my family."
He turned and began to walk away, his heart hammering against his ribs.
He had taken only three steps when Akanbi's voice stopped him, cold and flat, devoid of all pretense of charm.
"That was a very expensive speech, Peter."
Peter paused but didn't turn.
"You just condemned your family's business to a slow, painful death over your pride," Akanbi continued, his voice like a surgical blade. "And you think you've won? You've only made the game more interesting for me. I don't just want you in my bed anymore, Peter Emmanuel."
Peter finally glanced back. Akanbi was still seated, but he looked like a different man. All the polished manipulation was gone, stripped away to reveal the raw, freaky core of his desire. His eyes glinted with a terrifying, obsessive light.
"Now," Akanbi whispered, the sound carrying clearly, "I want to break you first."
Into pieces like garri