Charles sank deeper into the soft leather couch, stretching his legs out like he owned the place. The knife was still stuck in the cushion next to him, but he didn't even look at it. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he spoke.
"So, after your nice crew swapped the artifact for a fake," he said with a proud grin at the two angry women, "we knew rushing in wasn't smart. Did you see what they did to the guards? Poor Tony's now drinking his lunch through a straw."
One of the women, Joan, scoffed loudly, crossing her arms tight. Her glare was sharp enough to cut stone.
Charles smile widened. "Instead of going all Rambo, we used our brains—we followed them. Alarms were going off, exits were locked, but your girls thought they had the perfect escape. It wasn't hard to guess where they'd go next. The hotel across the street. Pretty low-key."
He looked at Don Sylvester, raising his eyebrows. "While you stayed calm and acted innocent during the lockdown—walking out with the other important people after the search—your girls were across the street, popping stolen champagne like it was New Year's Eve."
The Don didn't say anything, but a small smile appeared on his lips.
"They didn't even try to hide. No passes, no fake names. Just walked into that auction like it was an open mic night."
The second woman, Jane, shifted, clearly annoyed. Her fingers dug into the armrest. Joan looked like she wanted to throw something—probably at Charles.
"But here's the best part," he said, raising a finger like it was important. "I've got a little talent. Especially when it comes to charming a pretty face."
"Oh, please," Jane said quietly, rolling her eyes.
Charles didn't pay attention. "I put on a waiter's uniform, pushed a room service cart to their door, and knocked like a real gentleman. They were suspicious—'We didn't order anything!'—but then Jane here saw this fine-looking guy," he said, pointing to his chest proudly, "and gave in."
He pointed right at her. "You! You let me in. And as soon as I walked inside—bam! You slapped my behind like we were on a honeymoon at the beach."
Jane's face twisted in shock and disgust. "I should've broken your arm."
"Now, now," Charles joked. "Joan was smarter. She told me to leave. But while you two were busy acting like bosses, neither of you saw that I dropped a little surprise in your fruit bowl."
Joan's eyes got sharp and angry. Jane looked like she was about to explode. A vein throbbed on her forehead.
The Don tilted his head. "You knew their real names?"
Charles shrugged. "Jane and Joan. You think I guessed? Come on, Boss—those fake names? Not exactly Bond girl level."
Joan crossed her arms even tighter. Jane kept glaring like she wanted to stab someone. They didn't say a word, but the room felt heavier with tension.
"Then the fight started," Charles said it like it was no big deal. "Jane asked me to pour her a drink. I acted shy, a little nervous. That's when Joan—sharp as always—got suspicious. She told me to take off my shirt."
He paused and smirked. "I said no, of course. Gotta protect the goods. But she didn't like that. Next thing I know, a dagger's flying at my head. Barely missed and hit the wall."
He chuckled. "Honestly, my grandma throws better. She doesn't miss. But I got the message. I started unbuttoning, nice and slow. Let's just say... they both stared."
Jane looked away, clearly angry. Joan's face turned red with a mix of anger and embarrassment, her lips pressed in a tight line.
"They drank the wine," Charles went on. "Jane first, then Joan. And after a few sips? Boom. The Aphrodisiac I slipped in kicked in."
Charles held out his hands, eyes wide like he was innocent. "Total mood swing."
"Boss, none of that—" Jane started to protest.
"—is a lie," Charles cut in smoothly, raising his hand. "Every word is true. I mean, come on—if I was making this up, would I be holding the real artifact?"
Charles leaned in a bit, lowering his voice. "The Aphrodisiac kicked in. Their urges got... wild. They started begging—not for more wine, well maybe a little—but mostly for me to sleep with them," he said with fake seriousness. "I told them, if they wanted that, they had to give me something first."
He looked at the Don, still smirking. "That's how I got their real names. That's how I found out where the artifact was. And believe me, Boss... they really wouldn't want you knowing what happened next."
The Don's face stayed calm, but the disappointment in his eyes showed. He gave a dry chuckle, hiding it with a small smile as his fingers slowly tapped the armrest.
Charles leaned back again, arms wide like he just won a prize. "So yeah, that's how your best agents got outplayed—thanks to a borrowed tux, some muscles, and one tricky bottle of wine."
Then he leaned forward, voice more serious now, locking eyes with the Don. "And that, my friend, is how I got the artifact. But what really shocked me... was learning what it's actually worth."
He paused for a second, letting the silence hang, then smirked. "Now here's the part that'll blow your mind."
He tapped his temple. "That little thing I 'borrowed' from your girls? It's not just old junk from some lost temple. It's a hidden treasure that once belonged to Emir Hassan Al-Rashid."
A heavy silence filled the room, like a thick fog. The Don's fingers stopped tapping. Jane and Joan didn't move. Even the air felt still.
But Charles just kept smiling.
"He was the one who bought it at the auction," Charles said calmly, though his eyes were sharp. "He paid a fortune for it—because he knew something no one else did. That artifact? It's not just valuable. It has a hidden purpose. A secret only the rightful owner and their bloodline would know."
He slowly opened his hands, like revealing a trick. "If you break it using obsidian from the Arafah mines, there's something inside. A glowing orb—it looks like it came from space."
He leaned in, voice low. "And that orb? It gives you the right to claim the throne of Almarah."
Joan blinked. Jane scoffed a little, but even she looked interested now. Don Sylvester Al-Fayeed narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening.
Charles laughed lightly. "Oh yeah. The second you walk into that country holding this thing, it's over. You're not just a man anymore—you're the next king."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"But here's the catch," he said, lowering his voice, "if you're just a regular guy? Showing up with that orb is a death wish. The royal guards won't wait to ask questions—they'll kill you on sight. That's why you need backup. Power. A solid plan."
He shifted, crossing one leg and tilting his head.
"I could sell it to someone else, no problem. Lots of big names out there would kill for it. But lucky you—I'm feeling generous. And honestly, I kind of like you, Boss. So I'm offering to sell it back to you."
He smiled even wider, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"But there's one condition."
Don Sylvester didn't react. The room suddenly felt colder. Joan glanced between them, and Jane sat stiff, her lips pressed so tight they looked white.
Charles tapped the armrest with one finger. "You give me this casino empire," he said casually, like he was asking for a snack. "And you... you go claim the throne of Almarah, Mr. Sylvester Al-Fayeed."
The room went quiet. Then, slowly, the Don leaned forward, his face hard to read.
Charles lifted his hands like he meant no harm. "Come on, it's a win-win. I get a kingdom of flashing lights and fun, and you get a real crown. No fights, no mess. Just two smart men making a classy deal."
Charles smirked.
"Well... one gentleman, and one charming devil."
The Don didn't blink. Charles's grin only grew bigger.
"You're welcome, Your Majesty."
Don Sylvester leaned on the arm of his chair, a slow, cold smile spreading on his face.
"You want my casino empire?" he said with a dry laugh. "The one I built from scratch? Years of hard work, blood, and dirty deals?"
He took a step closer, and the room seemed to grow heavier.
"What makes you think I can't have both—the throne and the empire?" His voice turned cold and sharp.
"One word from me, and my men will make you spill every detail. You'll be begging to talk. And maybe," he looked over at Jane and Joan, "I'll let my girls finish what they started with you."
Charles stood his ground, still calm, though his jaw tightened for a split second.
"Hassan Al-Rashid is still in town," he said, fixing his collar like it was no big deal. "He's got almost the same power you do—maybe even more. And he's offering me double."
The Don's eyes narrowed just a bit—but that small look said a lot.
"Torture me if you want," Charles went on, voice steady but with a warning tone. "But the moment one of your men touches me, the artifact disappears. No clues. No way to find it. You'll be chasing shadows."
Silence filled the room. Thick and tense.
Then Don Sylvester let out a low, cold laugh.
"You're either really brave... or really dumb," he said. "But I gotta admit, I respect the guts."
He tilted his head slightly.
"You'll get the casino. But only after I'm holding the artifact in my hands."
Charles gave a smug grin and tapped his chest with two fingers. "Nice try. But I'm not that easy to fool. Get the ownership papers ready in two days, Boss. Only then will you get your precious relic."
The Don's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding a bit before he finally said, "Fine."
Charles stood up from the couch, stretched, and casually dusted off his sleeves like the whole talk was nothing. "Now, how do I get out of this underground cave? The air's thick, smells like cigars and old grudges. I need fresh air before one of your lovely ladies throws another knife at me."
The Don gave a small wave. Two guards stepped forward without a word.
"Show him out," he said coldly.
Charles gave a lazy salute, smirk still in place, and walked toward the elevator with his usual confident stride. As the doors closed behind him, he started whistling again—cool, bold, and completely unbothered.