Kelvin stood by the window of his hotel room, staring down at the street with a phone pressed to his ear.

"Good evening, Mr MarQueen. I just called to let you know I've landed in Accra and secured a hotel room."

"Good," Mr MarQueen said. "Once you've settled in, I would like you to meet Mr Ben Adams. Neither of you has met before, but knowing you-being the good detective that you are-I'm sure you've done some digging on him. I've arranged a meeting between the two of you. As you know, he recently relocated to this country and set up a law firm. He has requested a private detective to work alongside him, and I recommended you since I hold a share in the firm. I understand your main reason for going there is to find the person who murdered your mother."

Kelvin listened quietly as his adoptive father spoke.

"To avoid raising suspicion about your arrival in another country, asking questions about a well-known tribe could attract the attention of the local authorities. It's best to have something to do that helps you blend in. For that reason, I need you to pause your investigation into your mother's death for now. Let's get you settled as an ordinary citizen first, then later we can look into the clan that owns that medal. I hope you understand, son."

"Of course, sir. I am entirely agreeable," Kelvin replied, gazing at the medal in his palm, his fingers clenching tightly around it.

After the call with Mr MarQueen ended, Kelvin made his way to the luggage on his bed. He unzipped it and began to unpack. His mind drifted back to his father's advice. He understood the importance of blending in, but why did he need to work with that man?

It had been four years since his mother's passing-enough time for Mr MarQueen to move on. However, ever since he had taken Ben Adams MacLen under his wing as his mentee and legal representative for his mother's divorce case, he had grown unusually close to their family-especially Mrs Cassie Adams MacLen, whom he represented in her divorce from her cheating and abusive husband.

The more Kelvin thought about it, the more he realised Mr MarQueen was spending far too much time with that woman. If he wasn't mistaken, he would be bold enough to suggest his adoptive father harboured an interest in her beyond their courtroom dealings-especially since Mr MarQueen had a unique taste for women connected to his cases. Still, Kelvin knew better than to voice such thoughts. If his adoptive father ever discovered what he was thinking, he would be in serious trouble.

He placed the last of his clothes into the built-in wardrobe, then reached for his phone. He decided to call room service for some food, preferring to eat in since it was late. Afterwards, he planned to go to bed early-he was meeting Mr Adams early the next morning.

He wondered if this Ben Adams was truly as pleasant as the media portrayed him.

***

Kelvin sat by the window at the Pavilion restaurant, one arm draped casually over the table, a club beer sweating beneath his fingers. His gaze moved slowly across the lobby-not idle, but measured.

The place spoke of quiet affluence. Clean lines. Tasteful lighting. Seating is arranged to invite conversation without forcing it. The kind of restaurant where deals were sealed and secrets exchanged without raised voices.

He clocked the patrons the way instinct demanded-couples leaning close, families relaxed, friends laughing softly. No tension. No disturbances. The menu boards caught his eye briefly: continental dishes. Lamb shank. Steaks. Beef skewers. Comfort food for people who believed themselves safe.

A waiter approached.

"Sir, are you ready to order?"

Kelvin smiled, polite but distant. "Not yet. I'm waiting for someone. I'll let you know."

The waiter dipped his head and moved away.

Kelvin checked his watch. Late-but not worryingly so. Still, impatience tugged at him. He exhaled through his nose and lifted his gaze again.

That was when he felt it.

Eyes on him.

A woman sat alone two tables away, posture relaxed, attention unmistakably fixed on him. She didn't look away when he noticed her. Instead, she lifted her glass slightly-an unspoken acknowledgement-and smiled. Slow. Controlled. Curious.

Interest.

Kelvin recognised it immediately. He always did.

He was aware of what he projected-the tattoos tracing his forearm, the quiet confidence, the edge that clung to him like a warning label most people ignored. Women had always gravitated toward it. Toward him. Against reason.

Sometimes he wondered why danger drew them in instead of pushing them away. Instinct should have told them to run. Yet some found it intoxicating. Familiar. Exciting.

And those women rarely hesitated.

Well, if they were bold-or foolish-enough to draw closer, who was he to complain? After all, it often got him laid.

She stood and approached, her steps unhurried, deliberate.

"Hello," she said softly. "I couldn't help noticing you've been sitting here alone for a while. Are you waiting for someone?"

"Yes."

Her smile deepened slightly. "Or did they stand you up?"

"Unlikely," Kelvin replied evenly. "They'll be here shortly."

She studied him for a beat-his hands, his eyes, the way he didn't lean forward or pull away.

She sat without being asked.

"That's unfortunate," she said. "I was hoping we might keep each other company."

Before Kelvin could respond, another voice entered the space-calm, firm, immovable.

"I'm afraid that won't be necessary."

The woman stiffened and turned.

The man standing behind her was tall, broad-shouldered, impeccably dressed. Brown skin. Athletic build. Sharp jawline. Eyes that missed nothing. His presence shifted the air around the table, subtle but undeniable. When he spoke again, his British accent carried quiet authority.

"I believe you're in my seat."

The woman's confidence evaporated. Her eyes widened as recognition-or something close to it-flickered across her face. She stammered an apology, cheeks flushing, then retreated quickly to her table without another glance back.

Kelvin watched it all with amusement.

The man took the seat opposite him without asking.

"Apologies for the delay," he said. "The next drink is on me."

Kelvin smiled. "If you insist."

Ben Adams gestured to the waiter, ordering for both of them with the ease of someone accustomed to being obeyed. When the waiter left, Ben's attention returned fully to Kelvin.

"You must be Private Detective Kelvin Bruce," he said. "Mr MarQueen speaks highly of you."

Kelvin leaned back, assessing him openly now. "I hope he didn't exaggerate."

Ben smiled-but it didn't soften his eyes. "We both know that he doesn't strike as the type."

He extended his hand. "Ben Adams."

Kelvin shook it, noting the grip-firm, intentional.

"I believe Mr MarQueen has already filled you in," Ben continued. "I've established a law firm here, and I require a private detective I can rely on. Most of our cases won't be simple. Some won't be clean."

He opened his briefcase and slid a folder across the table.

"That's the contract. Payment. Expectations. Boundaries." A pause. "If you agree, sign and return it to the firm. If you have questions, my number is inside."

Kelvin accepted the folder but didn't open it immediately. He took a sip of his beer instead.

"Do you have any questions?" Ben asked.

"One," Kelvin said.

"Go on."

"I was under the impression this was an interview. You haven't tested me."

Ben's lips curved slightly. "Mr Bruce, I don't offer work without due diligence. I've reviewed your history. Your successes. Your methods."

He leaned forward just enough to matter. "And anyone Mr MarQueen trusts doesn't need proving to me-unless, of course, you doubt his judgment."

Kelvin held his gaze.

No bluff. No insecurity.

Interesting.

He finally opened the folder. "I'll review it and get back to you."

"Good," Ben said, settling back. "Now that business is out of the way-"

He lifted his hand. "Waiter. Let's order."

Kelvin smiled faintly.

This partnership, he already knew, would not be simple.

Mr Ben Adams is surely not someone who dulshit.

_

A/N: Hello, gentle readers. Not all dealings between Kelvin and Ben will be captured in this book. If you are interested in that aspect, check out the Unexpected Encounter books two and three, which have their own titles. As you read, please don't forget to leave a comment or vote.