A scatterbrain. That was the best word Micheal could use to categorize Christina Wellington. The doctor had assured them that she was only reacting to the multiple painkillers they had given her but something about her confusion felt a bit too real, too innocent, to have just been the drugs and that in itself piqued his interest.

“So this was the famous Christina Wellington?” He thought to himself out loud.

He had barely recognized her in her dazed and panicked demeanor, she looked too fragile to be the woman that evoked fear in her competitors' hearts. He wished he had met her in other circumstances just so he could see how she was from another angle. For now she was someone else. Far off from who he had imagined her to be.

It wasn't long before her relatives came in and pushed him to the corner– in literal terms– but he didn't mind, he excused himself from her side as he perched at the corner, watching them throw arms of affection around her.

Her bright dough eyes swept the room in a childlike manner and as her gaze rested on him the heat within him began to rise slowly. Something about it felt like she was seeing through his skin. It challenged him, it was different from the way he was used to being looked at, with respect and fear. He could feel his walls crack within a split second as his breathing hitched. He tore his gaze from hers as quickly as he could, pretending to listen to the man in a white coat in front of him. But even with that he could still feel her eyes imprinting her gaze on his skin like she owned it, he clenched my jaw in a bid to calm himself down. The lack of control he had with her in the same room bugged him.

The doctor said something about signing papers. He instantly took it as his cue to leave, taking his exit as the grandmother; Deborah Wellington and her bimbo daughter in law headed for the doctor's office.

“Micheal Storme…right?” I heard her call out instantly, halting his steps. He turned to her and found her a few feet from him as she gestured at a corner.

“That's what they call me,” he said confidently.

“I'll be right there” she assured the doctor as Micheal followed her lead.

“Yes?” Michael asked once they were further enough from the office. His brows raised in amusement.

“What could the notorious Deborah Wellington want to speak with me about?”

They had rubbed shoulders on very rare occasions and with each time they crossed paths her pride seemed to have added an extra height.

“Probably to thank me for my good efforts in saving her granddaughter.”

A smirk etched on his chiseled face at that thought.

He had never envisioned her to be the kind to show gratitude, today would be a first.

She exhaled “I don't know how you were able to come in contact with my granddaughter but I am grateful” she started without dropping eye contact, making his smirk turn into a small smile.

“Well-”

She raised her manicured hand “But I don't want you anywhere near us anymore, you are no longer needed”

He suddenly felt the weight of my smile drop.

“Who does this woman think she is? The queen of Sheba?”

He scoffed, “And who said I was going to stick around?”

She gave him a cold smile, a smile that would have shaken me up if I hadn't seen more gruesome things in life.

“You are a Storme, you're known to stick around. If you know what I mean” her voice echoed in my skull.

“Again with the prejudice I see”

He would be lying if he said that didn't hurt his pride, but indeed he was his father's son and would rather die than to show weakness to this five foot tall old prude.

“If I were you” he replied, taking a step forward “I'd be more worried about my broken family than what I am. Don't worry I won't tell anyone about your brain damaged granddaughter”

“How dare you-”

“Have a nice evening”

He made slow steps to the door, he knew she wouldn't dare say another word . He easily spotted his private car.

“You took awhile sir” his chauffeur peaked from the driver's seat rear view mirror.

“Indeed I did” He lit my cigar, clamping it on both lips then nodded his head at him. Peter, his driver, understood the message and started the engine.

“You seem tense sir,” he tried again.

Michael huffed, blowing out a generous amount of smoke. “I'm not tense, I'm pissed. Those Wellingtons are the most snooty people to ever exist, especially that old hag, Deborah”

His blood boiled as the thought of their conversation played out in his head.

“She's crazier than she's reckoned that's for sure. Walking around like she owned the place. Couldn't even say a proper thank you”

“Well what about the girl?”

Michael paused, his mind immediately going to Christina and her arresting eyes that hid under her long curly lashes. He found myself licking my lips as he turned his head to watch the city as they passed the heat of the night life.

The city of New York was beautiful at night, it was mysterious, young and vibrant. Just like her.

“She seemed alright.” He took another drag.

Michael tried to think of other things but it seemed like he was cursed, doomed to only think of her for the rest of the quiet ride home. She was glued to the corner of his mind never fully going away, not even after the splendor of the villa he lived in came into view. The gates opened with ease as they swerved in, exhaustion finally settling in as the thought of the unfinished work from the project he was working on clouded his mind but something about that relieved him as it brought the feeling of normalcy back to him, the feeling that he could control.

He checked his phone as he got out of the vehicle and found various texts and calls from his assistant Bianca. He scrolled some more till his sister's name came into view and he momentarily stopped in his tracks.

She wasn't one to call unless there was a problem. His mind picked up speed as he began thinking what the issue might have been while he walked into the house.

“Sir-” Michael heard the distant voice of Sarah, his maid followed by a gasp.

“Yeah, good evening” He half mumbled walking past her

“Sir you're-”

“I'm fine” He responded, walking up the stairs.

“The poor thing must have been frightened with the sight of the crimson stain on my shirt. I'd call Victor later to make a new one for me. Only he knows how to make custom made items the way I like them.”

“But sir….” Her voice drowned out the moment he was upstairs. He walked briskly to his room, throwing his phone on the bed once he got in, his top went over his beard after as it fell on the ground with a thud leaving him with his trousers and holster.

He didn't bother turning on the lights, he knew his way around. He liked it this way, the darkness was soothing, better still predictable. He always knew what he was coming home to.

He caught a reflection on the mirror on the corner of his room but it wasn't his reflection that caught his attention. His eyes caught sight of a pair of earbuds, last time he checked he didn't own any.

“Was Sarah dumb enough to let someone in without telling me?”

He pulled out the revolver that was strapped to his holster. Wasting no time to cock it.

“Come out now” he ordered.

His peripheral vision caught his office chair where his desk was swiveling around and his arm pointed in that direction as the chair turned completely revealing his sister, Rebecca.

“Get that gun out of my fucking face” she snapped and he hissed tossing the gun on the bed.

“What are you doing here, Rebecca?”

“Is that how you greet your older sister? Ten years of raising your sorry ass and this is how you repay me?”

“I apologize” I sighed “Good evening”

She smirked “Nice to see you too”

“Why didn't you tell me you were coming? You know I don't like surprises. I couldn't have shot you”

“Oh please” she got up before she showed him her iPad which he took from her as his eyes scanned the news.

His eyes caught pictures of him first coming out from the club, followed by the pictures of him taking Christina into the car then him getting into the hospital.

“I got this from my Intel” she broke the silence. “You were being followed, Michael, you're just lucky I got a hold of this before it got out. Do you know what would have happened to our image if people knew you were in contact with those disgusting Wellingtons? After everything they've done?” Her voice was a little higher now.

He was more concerned with how fast whoever did this could cook up a story. It had barely been a few hours since this happened.

He was already used to the hysteria that emanated from her every time she mentioned their name. Their families had been rivals for as long as he could remember but before then his father used to be a family friend. That was until they tried to sink their company. Their family hasn't been the same ever since.

“Who did this?” He demanded as he handed it back to her.

“Doesn't matter now, I already took care of it. It cost me an arm too”

“I'll reimburse you”

“I don't want your money”

He rolled his eyes. She always said that.

“Hey don't you roll your eyes at me, out there you're a big shot but in here you're my little brother and I won't hesitate to slap that attitude out of you” she walked out the door.

“I'm a grown ass man, Rebecca”

“Sure”

Rebecca always made it her job to remind him that he was her little brother even years after he had become old enough to take over the family business. But he wouldn't blame her, she had practically raised him like her son after their parents passed away. He was only six at the time.

“I'm going home” she picked her purse off the table.

“So soon? You should at least have dinner”

“No, your chef doesn't know how to cook. Fire her”

He rolled my eyes again, Rebecca had always been a picky eater and liked seafood food and his chef wasn't very accommodating.

“Call me when you get home” He said, accepting defeat as she sashayed out of his house.

…….

He sank into his chair, swiveling around, Christina suddenly flooding his thoughts for the millionth time, but only now he didn't fight it as he allowed it to distract him from the draft magazine in front of me. Bianca had given it to him to give his final verdict on it, it was supposed to be the monthly issue but none of the stories in it were up to par, not to his standard. She promised him that it was still a work in progress but it wouldn't be good even if it was finished from what he had seen.

He tossed it into the bin not bothering to look through the other pages. He'd probably have to start firing someone by tomorrow. He dialed her number pressing the phone to his ear. Her phone rang twice till there was a click followed by her steady voice.

“Good evening sir-”

“I've gone through the magazine you sent”

“Did you like them?”

“No” he said “I want it fixed”

“What exactly?”

“Everything”

“Oh I see, I'll let the editorial team know”

“Good” with that he hung up, a tired sigh slipped out of my mouth right after as he massaged his eyes.

He loved his job, more importantly he loved his company but there was always this nagging feeling that crept in the back of his neck that made him realize something was missing. It always was.

Building his company all from the ashes his sister and him found it in, to where it stood now took years of almost everything they had. He never wanted it to be where they found it ever again. He wanted to preserve the legacy their parents left them with, it was the closest thing they had to their deceased parents. It was family.

They hadn't released an issue in over a span of two months and the public were beginning to notice but they weren't ready yet. Not at this rate. Onyx Inc was only known to release the best stories, nothing but the best. That alone made him anxious.

“What if we didn't this time?”

“Oh damn it all” He slouched in his chair.

He picked up his phone, scrolling through social media aimlessly as sleep refused to do its thing. That was when he saw her, the one and only Christina Wellington. His eyes trailed off wandering down her slender physique in her red knee length latex dress,her curly hair brushing against her high cheekbones as she looked into the camera, her full lips parted in a small yet calculated smile as she waved at the paparazzi. The next slide showed her entering the club, the last place she was seen before her alleged kidnapping.

His fingers followed the names tagged in the post till he came across her profile and his eyes feasted on every post she had ever made.

She was beautiful, sophisticatedly beautiful and her feed showcased that a lot. But then he noticed that each post was either of her behind a desk in her office or of her attending some boring seminar, it was like a big PR scheme. She was never in a relaxed environment, she seemed so different from the person glued to my memory. The one he was looking at had a commanding air of authority and carried herself in that light whereas she; the woman in my head seemed meek.

“Call me crazy but a little shorter too.”

He shook his head.

“No, it's probably because she wasn't wearing heels when we met,” he thought, contrary to the woman on the screen that wore heels that made her at least three inches taller. Shoes strong enough to crush people's dreams with.

A smile played on his lips at that thought as he continued to scroll down. A large part of him wished she wasn't a member of that family as his desire piqued, not that it mattered though. She was just a mere muse. But even he knew that when a muse was all a man thought of then it became his obsession.

“I wouldn't let it come to that.”

However, for now he could use a little thrill in my life. Nothing serious.

But first he had to find out who he was really dealing with. If he was lucky he could have some fun and he remembered clearly he didn't need luck to win.

He took a long look at another photo as his heart rate suddenly pumped excitement to every corner of his brain.

“Who really are you Christina?”