Rhys stepped out of the sleek black Rolls-Royce, the soft glow of streetlights reflecting off its glossy surface. He adjusted the cuff of his white satin shirt, the fabric shimmering under the night sky. The shirt was loose, casually unbuttoned to reveal a toned, chocolate-hued chest that hinted at countless hours in the gym. His crisp black trousers were perfectly tailored, sitting neatly above polished leather shoes. Around his wrist, simple but elegant bracelets clinked softly as he moved, and a thin, dainty gold chain hung around his neck. His mini-twist hair and sharp jawline only enhanced the image of a man who was undeniably good-looking but carried an aura of unapproachability.
As he exited the car, his subordinates moved swiftly to surround him. Their reverence was evident, and they bowed deeply as one.
"Padrino," they said in unison, their voices echoing like a well-rehearsed choir.
Rhys gave them a curt nod, barely acknowledging their presence as he strode forward. His strides were confident, purposeful. The grand hotel loomed before him, and as he stepped inside, the polished marble floors and chandeliers dripping in crystal barely registered in his mind. He was here for a reason, and it wasn't to admire the decor.
Reaching the elevator, he pulled out his sleek black card and slid it into the access slot. The doors opened with a quiet chime, and he stepped inside, pressing the button for the third floor. The elevator moved smoothly, but Rhys's mind was already at the meeting he was about to walk into. He knew what awaited him—resentment, suspicion, maybe even outright hostility. But none of that bothered him. Not outwardly, at least.
As the doors opened on the third floor, Rhys adjusted his chain one last time before stepping into the meeting room. Inside, eleven pairs of eyes snapped toward him. Six older men and five women, all in their fifties or sixties, sat around a polished mahogany table. Their faces were etched with years of experience, power, and a grudging sense of distaste for the young man who now entered.
Rhys could feel their judgment, their silent disapproval. He was young—too young, they thought—for the responsibility he held. But Rhys wasn't here to win their approval. Without so much as a glance in their direction, he walked to an empty chair and sat down, his posture relaxed, bordering on disrespectful.
The room was thick with tension. Finally, one of the older women, her face lined with years of leadership, couldn't hold her tongue any longer.
"Young people these days have no respect," she said, her voice sharp with distaste. "You think everyone has time to wait around for you? If you can't be on time for a meeting as important as this, perhaps you shouldn't bother at all."
Her words were met with murmurs of agreement from the others around the table. Rhys could feel their collective discontent rising, but it only made him smile—his trademark devilish grin that often incited more anger than it calmed.
"If you can't keep to time on serious occasions, why not hand over the reins to someone more capable and go fool around like the other kids your age, huh?" Another man, his head gleaming under the light, barked, his words dripping with mockery.
Laughter rippled through the room, mocking and condescending. Rhys's expression darkened, the annoyance flashing in his eyes.
"Wouldn't you love that, baldy?" Rhys spat, his words slicing through the room like a whip.
The laughter died instantly. The older man's face turned a deep shade of red, his hands clenching into fists. Rhys turned his gaze to the woman who had first spoken, his eyes narrowing.
"And as for you, nosey," Rhys said, his voice dripping with disdain, "I'm not late."
He pointed to his wristwatch, its sleek face showing just a minute past 4 p.m.
"This meeting was set for 4 p.m. on the dot. And guess what? It's 4:01 now. Right on time. Or are you two getting picky because of old age?" His words were laced with venom, and the small smirk playing on his lips only made their fury burn hotter.
The woman's eyes flared with anger, but before she could retort, another man spoke up, his voice measured but dripping with irritation.
"It's not just about being on time, Rhys," the man said, his tone laced with exasperation. "The point is, we've all been here, and we could have started earlier if you had bothered to come before the appointed time."
Rhys shifted in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, his eyes glinting with mischief.
"Notice me," he said, addressing the man before shifting his attention to the entire room now. "You all decided to show up early. That's on you, not me. Don't think everyone has as much free time as you. I run a tight ship, and I've got plenty to manage." His gaze swept over the room, his grin widening as he saw their faces twist in annoyance. "And thank you for your concern about my personal life, but trust me, I'm having all the fun I need."
He was about to continue when a loud bang interrupted him. The sound echoed through the room, instantly silencing everyone. At the head of the table sat an elderly woman in her late seventies, her frail body seated in a wheelchair. Four imposing bodyguards flanked her, two on each side. Despite her age, her presence commanded the room. Her sharp, piercing eyes burned with authority, and the entire room seemed to quiver under her gaze.
"Bickering like children fighting over scraps in the streets!" she thundered, her voice a mix of frustration and disgust.
"Apologies, Donna," the room echoed in unison, their voices subdued. The respect they held for her was undeniable, and even Rhys lowered his eyes as she spoke.
The Donna, the matriarch of the Khaos family, scanned the room, her expression one of thinly veiled contempt. Her gaze lingered on Rhys for a moment longer than the others before she nodded to one of her guards. He stepped forward and turned on a projector, displaying a gruesome image on the screen.
A dead body. Brutally stabbed, the man's lifeless eyes staring blankly at the camera. Blood soaked the ground around him, and the brutality of the scene made even the most hardened members of the room shift uncomfortably in their seats.
The Donna's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "I don't need to tell you who this is."
The room fell into a tense silence. They all knew. Their eyes shifted to the empty chair at the table, the one that should have been occupied. It was glaringly vacant.
"Eddy," the Donna continued, her voice firm. "Someone had the guts to touch one of our own. They were so bold with their statement, looking at his body."
Rhys felt his pulse quicken. Fear flickered at the edges of his consciousness, but he forced himself to maintain his calm exterior. He had perfected his poker face over the years, but under the table, his fingers trembled slightly.
"I don't care what your theories are," the Donna said, her gaze sweeping the room. "This is not just a murder. This is a message. And until we find out who dared to touch one of ours, I want you all on high alert. Triple-check your security. Trust no one, not even your partners."
The weight of her words hung heavily in the air. The Khaos family was the most formidable mafia syndicate in the country, feared and respected by all. For someone to kill one of their own meant that a new threat had emerged—one bold enough to challenge them directly.
"Eddy's funeral will be held tomorrow night," the Donna continued. "His family will be well taken care of, and his business divided among you until his son is old enough to inherit it."
She looked pointedly at Rhys, her eyes narrowing as if to warn him against any reckless behavior.
"If you wish, you may contribute to a donation for his family. Now, you are dismissed."
The room stood as one, bowing their heads in respect. "Donna," they murmured in unison before the meeting dispersed.
The Donna's guards moved quickly, wheeling her out of the room as the others began filing out. Conversations erupted among the members, theories and speculations swirling about who could have been behind Eddy's murder. Who would have dared to make such a bold move? Was it a rival family? A traitor from within? The Khaos family was known for its involvement in cutting-edge nanotechnology, a business that had made them both rich and dangerous. But it also made them targets.
As Rhys walked toward the door, his mind raced.
"Rhys," a voice called from behind him. He turned to see one of the older men from the meeting approaching him.
"Be careful, boy," the man said, his voice low. "If they could get to Eddy, they can get to any of us. Keep your head down and your eyes open. This isn't over."
Rhys nodded, his jaw tight. His palms sweating. Donna was definitely looking into this and if he wasn't careful, he'd be exposed.
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Rhys sat in his luxurious study, surrounded by the dim glow of a single desk lamp. He was deep in thought, his fingers drumming rhythmically on the dark mahogany surface. The events of the previous day kept replaying in his mind. The meeting from yesterday, Donna's cold command and words, and the looming threat —it was all tangled up in his thoughts. But there was something else too. Something, or rather someone, he had to deal with.
He picked up his sleek, black phone, dialling a number with quick precision. The phone rang only twice before it clicked, signalling that someone had picked up the call.
"How's it going?" Rhys's voice was low, but the concentration in his tone was unmistakable.
"Padrino," came the voice on the other end. "We found her. Do you want me to get her, or—?"
"No!" Rhys interrupted sharply, sitting up in his chair. His brow furrowed, and his jaw clenched slightly. "Send me the address. I'll go myself."
There was a brief pause before the reply came, obedient and unwavering. "Yes, Padrino. I'll send it right away."
"And one more thing," Rhys added, his voice dropping an octave. "Investigate her. I want to know every single thing about her background. And everyone else… they are to stay back at the villa."
"Understood," came the reply before the line went dead.
Rhys lowered his phone just in time to see a message pop up with an address. He stared at it for a moment, feeling a strange pull in his chest before he forwarded it to his driver.
"Get the car ready. We're leaving now."
Within minutes, the sleek Rolls Royce was purring softly as it glided through the city streets. Rhys sat in the back, silent, his gaze focused out the window as the city lights blurred past. His mind, however, was far from the outside world. He had questions—questions that needed answers, and soon.
After a short drive, the car pulled up in front of a quaint little shop. A small, quirky sign above the door read, "Nature's Bloom," the words painted in bright, cheerful colours that seemed at odds with Rhys's brooding demeanour.
He stepped out of the car, his leather shoes crunching softly on the gravel. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and walked toward the shop door. A small bell chimed as he pushed it open, the soft tinkle announcing his presence.
"Welcome to Nature's Bloom!" a voice greeted him warmly.
Rhys's sharp gaze landed on the source of the voice, a young man standing behind the counter. The man was tall and good-looking, with an easy smile and a basket of flowers in his arms. He wore an apron that looked slightly too large for him, and his eyes sparkled with an infectious energy that made Rhys feel out of place.
Rhys nodded curtly, scanning the shop with a careful eye. The shelves were lined with flowers of every colour and variety, their scents mingling in the air. Yet, despite the beauty around him, there was no sign of the person he was looking for.
The young man noticed Rhys's quiet inspection and stepped aside politely, giving him room to browse. As Rhys moved through the aisles, his ears perked up at the sound of the young man's voice again—this time, on the phone.
"Yeah, I'm here now... no, I can't find it… Mom's not here. She's off signing some new contract, I guess... Yeah, okay, I'll wait. But hurry up, I've got a lecture in forty-five minutes."
Rhys, who had been listening carefully, felt a flicker of interest at the conversation of the young with the other person on the phone. He turned down another aisle, picking up a random flower and pretending to examine it. His sharp senses told him that the person he is looking for is on the phone with this young man.
The young man, now off the phone, noticed Rhys standing near the counter and asked politely, "Are you looking for something in particular?"
Rhys managed a small, enigmatic smile, his eyes scanning the young man's face for any signs of recognition. "No, just looking around a bit more."
The young man nodded, but there was something in his gaze—perhaps a subtle wariness, or maybe just curiosity. He didn't push further and turned back to his task, still occasionally glancing in Rhys's direction.
After another minute of browsing, Rhys finally grabbed a second flower and made his way to the counter. The young man looked at the flowers Rhys had chosen, his expression unreadable, before wrapping them up neatly.
Rhys pulled out his black card, swiping it with a casual flick of his wrist. The young man handed him the bag with the flowers, his eyes lingering on Rhys a little longer than necessary.
As Rhys turned to leave, the young man couldn't help but call after him. "A Venus flytrap, huh?" he said, his tone half-amused. "That's an… interesting choice."
Rhys paused, glancing over his shoulder with a knowing smirk. "I suppose it is."
He walked out of the shop, tossing the bag with the flowers into the back seat of the car as if it held no importance. "Park somewhere inconspicuous," Rhys instructed his driver as he slid into the seat. "We'll wait."
Twenty minutes passed, and Rhys's patience was rewarded when he saw a young woman approach the shop. His breath hitched ever so slightly. She walked with a confident stride, her long, Brown braided hair flowing behind her, and there was something about the way she moved that captivated his attention. But he didn't make a move yet. Not yet.