Chapter One
The air-conditioning on the fourteenth floor of Max Energy’s Victoria Island headquarters was cold enough to preserve meat, yet sweat still gathered beneath Segun Ogunlabi’s crisp, off-the-rack collar.
Twenty minutes earlier, Chief Ojo had fixed him with a look that left zero room for argument. “Nobody wants this boy, Segun, but what can we do?” Chief Ojo had said, tapping a heavy gold signet ring against his mahogany desk. “He comes with ‘recommendations from above.’ Anything that happens, someone has to answer for it. Anything he ruins, it’s on your head. So manage him properly.”
He wasnt sure if this overnight supervisor role was a promotion or a threat to his job. He was a Level One Petroleum Engineer. He had earned his place through brutal workweeks, punishing offshore appraisals, and sheer discipline. Coming from a humble background, his position was well deserved. He hadn’t clawed his way into one of the most competitive oil firms in Nigeria just to pamper a Nepo baby whose background was so heavily redacted. Now, standing in the marble lobby, Segun checked his watch.
8:30 a.m.
Thirty minutes late on day one. Wonderful
Five minutes later, the double glass doors slid open, letting in a thick gust of humid Lagos heat, and a man who walked into the building as if his father personally owned the bedrock it was built on. He was enormous. Well over six foot two, broad enough to eclipse the doorway as he stepped inside. Dark skin. Thick, perfectly groomed beard. A jaw carved like polished granite. His charcoal suit had clearly never seen an off-the-rack hanger. Three buttons hung open at the neck, exposing warm skin and a thin gold chain shaped like the map of Africa that caught the morning light. A single diamond stud glinted in one ear. He was staring at his phone, his face locked in a mask of soul-crushing boredom.
“Jide?” Segun stepped forward.
Jide didn’t look up immediately. He finished scrolling, slipped his phone into his pocket, and finally dragged his eyes up to Segun. The guy was unfair to look at. Thick lashes. A sculpted beard. Full lips set in permanent arrogance. The sort of face that had probably never heard the word no.
“And you are…?” Jide’s voice was smooth, carrying a lazy, unbothered cadence. “Where’s the coffee around here? And where’s the VIP parking spot? Whatever that was out there, just won’t do.”
Segun held his ground, refusing to look intimidated.“Good morning to you too. My name is Segun Ogunlabi. I am your supervising engineer.” Jide blinked before a slow, mocking smirk curled at the edge of his lips.
“Right. The supervisor.” He sighed dramatically. “I really don’t have time for this. Just find me a quiet air-conditioned corner so we don’t bother each other. I’m sure you have work to do.” “Hmm… That’s not how this works,” Segun said, trying his best to sound stern. “You’re already thirty five minutes late. Follow me.”
“Shey this one dey whine me ni?” Jide said raising an eyebrow, as he crowded Segun’s personal space to challenge him. As much as Jide towered over him, Segun was not a grass. He had fought too hard to get here to be shoved around by a rich kid playing corporate dress-up.
“Then I have no choice but to document and report your insubordination,” Segun said, keeping his voice as serious as he could.
He noticed Jide’s composure crack for a second. A flash of panic flared in his dark, shiny eyes before he masked it behind a cold scowl. Touché, Segun thought. Whatever secret Jide was hiding, he cared very much about staying in this building. Jide let out a sharp, dramatic sigh and rolled his eyes.
“Fine. Show me to my office, Pretty Boy.”
Jide wanted to call his father, the Minister, and tell him to stick his oil company, his black cards, and his stupid ultimatum where the sun didn’t shine.
But he couldn’t. He was broke. Broke-broke. He had max out his cards a couple of times, squandered his trust funds on fast cars and strippers his father always forgave him but this time around it was different.
“If anyone in that building finds out you are my son,” his father had instructed over breakfast three days ago, “or if you get fired before the internship ends, your accounts stay frozen permanently. You will live on your intern salary. Let’s see how long your friends stay around when you’re taking the bus to Lekki.”
He was stuck with this arrangement, trapped in a cubicle that smelled of industrial cleaner. What was the point of being the CEO’s son? His cubicle was next to Segun’s, this bare-faced pretty boy with warm brown curls and a face too cute to be this irritating.
“Here is the pipeline pressure log for the Escravos channel,” Segun said, dropping a thick blue folder onto Jide’s desk with a thud that vibrated through the wood. “Cross-reference these entries with the automated sensor logs from Q2 to orient yourself for today. I want a discrepancy summary on my desk by two p.m.”
Jide looked from the stack of paper to Segun’s calm, unbothered face. The idiot stood ramrod straight in his cheap, neatly ironed button-down that somehow made him look even more self-righteous. Everything about him annoyed Jide to the core..
“You’re joking,” Jide said, leaning back in his chair. “What the fuck is this?”
“Is what?” Segun asked, tilting his head.
“I’m not here to do shit.”
“Umm… yes, you are,” Segun replied smoothly. “Whatever you don’t know, ask. Get to work.”
He walked back to his desk, leaving Jide grinding his teeth in silence.
Jide glared at the blurred numbers on the page. How was he supposed to survive this? He needed his cards back. And also, he had to wipe that smug look off this pretty boy’s face.
The thought of making him lose that seemingly unshakeable composure and watching the him finally crack, sent a strange, hot pulse of satisfaction through Jide’s chest. He picked up the top page of the report, crumpled it into a tight ball, and tossed it cleanly into the bin.
