''Boss, I got the info on the Bem's family and sent them over to you.''
Arnold's voice crackled over the phone, sharp and efficient, as usual. Tonna dropped the call without a word, his fingers already swiping across the screen. He shook his head slowly, a look of grim satisfaction crossing his face. His phone buzzed again, pulling him back.
''Boss, what do I do with it?''
Arnold's tone was cautious, probing for direction.
''Nothing.''
A small silence stretched between them, Arnold absorbing his boss's instructions with unspoken questions.
''Okay, Boss.''
He said finally
''And how about the other things I asked for?''
Tonna's voice was low, steady, his tone shifting back to business.
''In motion, Boss. Everything is being prepared meticulously''
''Good. Make sure it's done accordingly.''
Tonna stressed the last word, with quiet intensity.
Arnold's response came quickly.
''Sure, Boss.''
The call ended, and Tonna walked to his closet, pulling on an oversized floral collar shirt that draped loosely over his frame, pairing it with a bucket hat and black baggy jeans. A change far removed from his usual bespoke suits. He grabbed his dark shades. His phone rang once more.
''Yes? I'll be on my way.''
He strode out of his room, brushing past the butler and the cook without picking up his car keys. Their eyes widened at the sight they had just witnessed. Their usually well-composed boss was , in street clothes, and he seemed to be in a hurry. He just ignored them, slipping through the gate into a waiting car.
''What's with the whole mysterious get-up? I almost didn't recognise you.''
Wren's voice carried a mix of amusement and suspicion from the driver's seat. Tonna slid in, snapping off the dark shades that swallowed half his face, and flashed a knowing smile.
"We're going to witness a show. And you my friend have the best view from the front-row seat."
Wren eyed him up and down, his mouth twitching as if words were fighting to escape. He could sense the storm brewing in Tonna's calm demeanour—whatever this was, it reeked of trouble, the kind he was sure would be disastrous knowing Tonna. Without another word, Wren pulled away, navigating the city streets toward the address Tonna provided. As they drove, Tonna tapped out a quick message, sending the gallery location to an anonymous contact with a simple invite:
*Come see the masterpiece unfold.*
Meanwhile at Spectrum Gallery
Amy stepped into the Spectrum Gallery like she owned the space, her bold makeup catching the warm overhead lights—deep crimson lips and smoky eyes that dared anyone to look away. Her high stiletto heels clicked against the polished tiled floor, each step echoing with confidence. The long black tie-back pencil dress hugged her curves, its high thigh split on the right side flashing just enough skin to turn heads without trying too hard. Her braids were twisted into an elegant updo doughnut ponytail, with loose curls framing her face, bouncing lightly as she moved. She carried a tiny rhinestone bag that sparkled like scattered stars, drawing eyes from every corner of the room. Whispers followed her, a low hum of admiration and envy.
''Glad you could make it.''
Chief Ami approached her, his eyes gleaming with something hungry, arms opening for a hug. But Amy was quicker, extending her hand smoothly for a handshake, turning the moment into a graceful deflection. It was so seamless, so cool, that only someone watching closely would catch the sidestep. No embarrassment for him, no vulnerability for her. A flicker of awkwardness crossed his face, but he recovered with a hearty laugh, clasping her hand firmly.
''I wouldn't miss it for the world,'' she replied, her smile bright, her voice warm but edged with control.
FLASHBACK - FEW WEEKS AGO
Earlier, there was a knock on the study door.
''Come in.''
Tonna's voice boomed from inside, deep and commanding, without looking up from the stack of documents sprawled across his desk. Amy pushed the door open, stepping in wearing an oversized shirt that skimmed her thighs, hiding the shorts beneath and giving the illusion of bare legs. The Air conditioner in the room cooled against her skin as she moved in deeper.
''Nedu said you wanted to see me?''
She asked, her tone casual and curious. Tonna kept his eyes on the papers, shuffling them with such dedication. Amy studied him in the silence. It was the first time she'd seen his twists tied up, exposing the sharp lines of his face. His skin was smooth, almost unfairly so, and those long lashes framed eyes hidden behind those oversized glasses he had on. His nose was thin and pointed, leading down to full, red lips that looked soft enough to tempt forbidden thoughts. She wondered, just for a split second, what they might taste like—sweet, maybe, or something darker. The idea hit her like a jolt, and she pinched her thigh hard to snap out of it, cursing under her breath.
'Gosh, what the hell is wrong with you, Amy? Is it because you're starved of sex? Now you want to jump your benefactor? Get a grip on yourself and focus. There's so much to be done, and sex should be the last thing on your mind right now. But he looks so damn good; how can I not have these thoughts?'
Tonna finally looked up, adjusting his glasses with the knuckle of his forefinger. The motion was simple, but it stole her breath— he looked breathtaking, adorable even, with that intense gaze locking onto hers. Her mind raced, taking in every detail: the depth in his eyes, the subtle bob of his Adam's apple when he swallowed. It mesmerised her, pulling her into a trance where she imagined tracing it with her fingers, her lips. Her chest fluttered with a mix of nerves and electric thrill. A sharp knock on the table yanked her back.
''What are you thinking about in that pretty little head of yours?''
Tonna's question hung in the air, his voice low and teasing. Amy licked her lips, glancing down, cheeks flushing with embarrassment, like a kid caught sneaking sweets. She drew a deep breath, forcing focus.
''Sorry, boss.''
Her apology was sincere, heat rising in her face from the whirlwind of thoughts. He tapped his forefinger and middle finger on the table twice, a rhythmic command.
''Focus.''
The word came slowly, mildly authoritative, a gentle rein on her rebellious thoughts. She nodded, straightening up.
''You will be coming with me to a party.''
He said it casually, shuffling files into folders with such grace.
''I need you to put on a show with me at this party.''
He handed her a file, their fingers brushing briefly—long, slender digits against hers, sending tingles racing up her arm. It took everything not to grab his hand, to imagine it exploring her skin.
''You have seen Mr Ami, the current manager of RB Petroleum and host of this party. He is being promoted to chief of the district. I need you to fawn over him just enough for him to invite you to his Gallery. He never accepts paintings from anyone other than his source, so I need you to convince him to show some pieces not from his source.''
She flipped through the documents, nodding as she absorbed the details.
''A word of advice though: That old man is extremely filthy, so be careful. Think you can handle it?''
She licked her lips, meeting his watchful gaze.
''Yes, boss!''
A fleeting smile touched his lips, but was gone in an instant, Like it was never there.
''Right, I'll leave this to you then.''
She turned to leave, but he called out.
''Amy.''
She pivoted back.
''Yes, boss?''
His face shifted from adorable to deadly serious.
''You can refuse if you don't want to, and it's absolutely fine. You know that, right?''
He asked, genuine concern threading his words.
''I can handle it, boss. I would say if I couldn't.''
He nodded, and she walked out. As the door clicked shut, a broad smile spread across Tonna's face. He knew she was capable. He'd always been aware of the strong force wrapped in poise that was Amy. He wouldn't have given her this task if he didn't think she would take care of it properly.
BACK TO REALITY
"Come, let me show you around." Ami tried to place a hand on her exposed shoulder, but Amy slipped away effortlessly, pretending oblivion as she plucked a drink from a server's tray. She sipped it cautiously, not trusting a drink handed to her directly by Ami. No chance. She wouldn't put drugging past a man like him.
''Oh my!''
She giggled, the sound light and feigned delight, as he watched her with a self-satisfied smile, filthy thoughts churning behind his eyes. She drifted toward the wall of paintings, arranged in chronological order, each frame a chapter in a silent story. Starting at the beginning, she took in the first: a man and woman laughing, hands intertwined, her dress flowing in an invisible wind, him in an army uniform with a gold emblem of crossed sword and baton, a star, and an eagle on his shoulder. Their foreheads touched, eyes sparking with love. His left hand hid behind him, clutching an open box with a ring peeking out. In the corner, two older couples watched lovingly, hands linked.
''Wow, the brush strokes are deep, carrying every emotion. This style reminds me of The Mask. Remember him?''
She turned to Ami, but his eyes weren't on the art—they roved over her exposed skin with disgusting hunger. As she faced him fully, she caught the lewd stare, but instead of retreating, she stepped closer, clinking her glass against his.
''Mr. Ami, do you remember The Mask?''
She asked again, snapping him back to the moment, blinking.
''Oh yes! When you told me how much you love his paintings, I was immediately intrigued. You said you especially love him because of the storytelling in his work. But let me tell you, it was so difficult finding this artist. He's so anonymous, I almost thought he didn't exist. But you know I found a way.''
He bragged, inching closer, his arm brushing hers. She held her ground, forcing a smile.
''Gosh! You are so amazing, sir! So how did you find him?''
She feigned interest, though this was all scripted by Tonna. She'd never cared for art before this assignment—knew nothing of The Mask or brush strokes. Since the briefing, she had devoured everything she could find on art history, focusing intensely on Ami's preferences, specifically his appreciation for strong, independent women like the Goddess Athena—a subtle weakness she was now exploiting. He was surprisingly easy to manipulate. His smile widened at her excitement.
''Well, I have my sources. I must tell you, this artist is amazing. Their style is unique—something I've never seen as an art lover. And I have you to thank for opening my eyes to it. This whole wall is a collection of their art. Apparently, they do them in series, and this was the only one they had. They weren't willing to sell or let go, even after several negotiations. The painter was going on hiatus indefinitely, and this is the last they did. I knew I had to get my hands on them no matter what.''
''So, how did you manage to get the paintings?''
Her question was laced with wide-eyed curiosity, flipping his heart into overdrive. His voice boomed with pride.
I spent around fifty-five million Drex for these. I disturbed the agent of The Mask several times, offering whatever the painter wanted, no matter how many rejections. I guess my sincerity paid off, and I'm glad it did. I don't regret it one bit. If this can cause a huge smile on your face, then it was more than worth the chicken change I spent on it.''
What a liar, she thought, masking her disdain. He'd grovelled, and begged, even spun a sob story about a dying wife who adored The Mask, claiming it was her final wish. He'd offered fifty-five million Drex initially—she would know because she was the agent. She mostly dealt with him through handling the texts and voice-modulated calls. Tonna had instructed her to only accept selling the painting if he agreed to pay a hundred and fifty million Drex for it.
''Wow, she's good.''
Wren murmured as they observed from the shadows, Ami and Amy deep in conversation. Tonna shook his head at the man's blatant lies. Ami had scrambled for the cash, eventually parting with three properties as partial payment—one being the prime land Tonna coveted for his refinery. That spot was perfect, strategic, and Ami had stonewalled direct negotiations, never directly refusing but always finding reasons not to agree to the terms, no matter how high Tonna raised the price. It was clear he was acting under orders from someone higher up. Tonna had no choice but to engineer this detour. The land was worthless to Ami because its soil composition and location were only suitable for an industrial refinery. The old fool's stubbornness and greed, coupled with his weakness for flattery and beautiful women, had made this route Tonna's only option and sealed his fate. Tonna smiled faintly, a predator's satisfaction.
Wren watched him, slowly starting to realise the depth of the scheme. He pieced it together, a chill rippling through him. Before he could voice it, Tonna spoke.
''I got the land for the refinery, so that's out of the way.''
He turned, flashing Wren a seductive smirk that sent goosebumps racing across Wren's skin. Tonna sauntered off, trailing Ami and Amy as they moved along the paintings, leaving Wren rooted in place, mouth agape at the ruthlessness of this man. The air felt colder suddenly, charged with the weight of Tonna's unyielding drive— a reminder that in this game, mercy was just another word for weakness.