Maiden Passion

Chapter 10

The midday heat in Lagos was relentless as Ben pulled into the private parking lot of one of the most exclusive restaurants in Victoria Island. The building stood like a modern marvel—glass panels reflecting the sun, a sleek design that whispered wealth and exclusivity. Today’s meeting could change the trajectory of Vinx Wrist Collections. If he played his cards right, he could secure a solid investment that would push his brand into the international market.

But Ben’s mind wasn’t solely on Vinx. The situation with Collins’ reckless financial move weighed heavily on him. His brother had withdrawn a staggering sum from the company’s offshore account to fund a private, high-stakes casino tournament in Dubai. The consequences of that decision were already rippling through Boca Holdings. If their father, Chief Laz, found out before Ben could fix the situation, the fallout would be catastrophic.

The Investor Meeting

Inside the restaurant, a hostess led Ben to a private dining room where Jonathan Pierce was already seated. The American investor exuded authority. He was in his late fifties, with sharp gray eyes, a clean-shaven face, and dressed in a bespoke navy suit. He was the kind of man who had turned small African startups into global phenomena.

"Ben, I’ve heard good things about you," Pierce said, standing to shake hands.

"And I’ve heard you have a keen eye for promising ventures," Ben replied, his voice confident but composed as he took his seat.

They exchanged pleasantries and ordered lunch, but the real discussion started the moment the waiter left.

Ben launched into a passionate but calculated pitch, detailing his vision for Vinx: a brand that combined the precision of Swiss craftsmanship with the elegance and boldness of African artistry. He highlighted Lagos’s growing luxury consumer market, the cultural influence of West Africa, and the uniqueness of positioning Vinx as a symbol of new African wealth.

Pierce listened, tapping his fingers on the table, occasionally nodding.

"It’s a compelling idea," he said after a pause. "But branding and ambition are one thing. Do you have the infrastructure to sustain this? The supply chain, distribution, manufacturing guarantees?"

Ben was prepared.

"We’ve secured a long-term production contract with a reputable manufacturer in Switzerland. We’re currently finalizing distribution partnerships in Los Angeles and Melbourne. Additionally, my wife’s family in Gambia—her father’s part of the Wolof merchant elite—has introduced me to private investors who’ve expressed interest in supporting the brand."

Pierce raised an eyebrow.

"That’s a powerful network. You’re playing a smart game."

Ben offered a thin smile. "I believe in calculated risks, not reckless ambition."

Pierce chuckled. "Send me the documentation on these partnerships. I’ll review everything personally. If it checks out, I’m in."

They stood and shook hands, the agreement unspoken but understood.

As Ben exited the restaurant, the intense heat didn’t bother him. He had made significant progress. But the victory was short-lived.

Collins’ Gamble Catches Up

Ben was just stepping into his car when his phone buzzed. Tomiwa.

"Boss, we have a problem," Tomiwa said, voice low but urgent. "Collins’ little casino stunt is making waves."

Ben froze, engine off. "Talk."

"A Dubai investor Collins borrowed from is demanding repayment. He claims Collins gave a personal guarantee and now owes over two million dollars. The man’s not bluffing, Ben. He’s threatening to leak everything to the media if the money isn’t paid in forty-eight hours."

Ben’s expression darkened. "Name?"

"Adem Farooq. Known for financing underground casino rings and laundering money through high-stakes games. He’s not someone we want publicity from."

Ben clenched the steering wheel. Collins had managed to entangle Boca Holdings with a dangerous figure.

"Does Chief Laz know yet?"

"No, but word is spreading fast. If this leaks, we’ll have board members asking uncomfortable questions by tomorrow."

Ben exhaled slowly, forcing himself to think clearly. "Find out what Farooq really wants. If he’s after money, we’ll negotiate. If he wants to make an example out of Collins, we may need to buy time."

Tomiwa paused. "And Collins?"

Ben’s tone shifted to steel. "I’ll handle him. Personally."

A Brewing Storm

That evening, Collins swaggered into Ben’s private apartment in Ikoyi like a man without a care in the world. His linen shirt was unbuttoned halfway, sunglasses still on.

"Bro! You won't believe the night I had. Dubai knows how to—"

Ben stood, arms crossed. "Two million dollars, Collins."

Collins flinched.

"How did you—"

"I know everything," Ben cut in. "You’ve dragged Boca Holdings into your chaos again. And this time, you might have crossed the wrong man."

Collins sank into the couch, suddenly sober. "It wasn’t supposed to get out of hand. I thought I could flip it. Double the money and—"

Ben shook his head. "You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t some poker game you can bluff your way out of. You signed personal guarantees. You brought a criminal into our family’s business."

Collins stared at the floor. "Can you fix it?"

"I’ll try," Ben said coldly. "But if this blows back on us, you’ll answer to Dad. Not me."

A Silent Threat

Back at Boca Holdings, Frank watched the entire day unfold through his digital surveillance access. He had eyes everywhere—emails, office cameras, and even Ben’s calendar.

He typed a message on his encrypted device:

"Ben’s closing international deals. He’s pulling in high-profile investors and stabilizing the company. Should I intervene?"

The reply was swift.

"Not yet. But he’s becoming a threat. If he consolidates power, we’ll lose control. Watch him. If necessary… neutralize."

Frank smirked and leaned back in his chair. Ben was sharp, but not sharp enough to see who was circling him.