The gala at the Oriental Hotel was the peak of Lagos high society. As Co-Chairmen, Alexandra and I were the center of gravity. Every camera lens was pointed at us, every whisper was about the "Street King" and his "Ice Queen."
I adjusted the lapel of my midnight-blue tuxedo, feeling the weight of the new world I now commanded. Alexandra looked breathtaking in a gown that shimmered like moonlight on the Niger River. We were walking toward the VIP section when I felt a cold chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning.
A man was standing by the bar, his back to us. He was wearing an expensive suit, but he carried himself with a rugged, dangerous edge that didn't fit the room. When he turned around, the champagne glass in my hand nearly shattered.
It was Marcus.
The man who had supposedly disappeared after the Chief's arrest. The man who knew the secrets of the streets better than I did. But he wasn't dressed like a thug anymore. He looked like a billionaire.
"Xavier," Marcus said, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. "Or should I say, Mr. Co-Chairman? You've come a long way from the back alleys of Onitsha."
Alexandra stepped closer to me, her eyes narrowing. "Who is this, Xavier?"
"An old... acquaintance," I said, my voice tight.
Marcus stepped forward, lowering his voice so only we could hear. "I saw the news, Alexandra. Very romantic. Burning the old papers, giving him half the throne. But there's one thing Xavier didn't tell you. One little secret from his time on the streets that wasn't in those documents Elias gave him."
My heart hammered against my ribs. "Marcus, don't."
"Why not?" Marcus laughed. "She deserves to know that her 'King' didn't just come from the streets. He was sent to those streets. By her own father. Your marriage isn't just a romance, Alexandra. It's a witness protection program."
Alexandra turned to me, her face pale. "Xavier? What is he talking about?"
Before I could answer, the lights in the ballroom flickered and died.