Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
Maxwell looked at him. “Why does it smell so good in here? I keep sniffing the orange trees, but don’t get that fragrance I’m looking for.”
The Don pointed to a small tree in the corner. It was three feet tall and about a foot wide. It had four lemons hanging from thick branches. And these lemons looked different. They were bright yellow with deep green stripes. “You are smelling the Variegated Pink lemon tree.”
“What?” Maxwell grinned and headed to it. “This little baby is making the whole room smell?”
“It is.” The Don adjusted his mask. “It is also an eye-catching variety because, as the name implies, it’s not yellow on the inside, but pink.”
“Damn!”
“Variegated Pink lemons are prized for their sweet, juicy fruit.”
“That’s probably why they smell so good too.” Maxwell bent over and inhaled one. “Yep! This is the smell.”
“When my wife was alive, she would make an amazing pink lemon cake with these.” The Don leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Salvatore would slice a few and put it in a glass of soda to give it an added taste.”
“You know what?” Maxwell bobbed his head. “For some reason, I’m now remembering that my mother used to use lemons to condition her hair. On Sunday mornings, I remember squeezing a bunch of them for her. Her hair shined after it.”
“My daughters used the juice for their nails.”
“That’s smart.”
“The plant you are currently in front of took four years to produce fruit.”
“Damn, man. that’s a long time.”
“Gardening requires patience.”
I glared at Maxwell. “Are you done asking questions about the lemon tree or would you like the Don to give you a tour of the garden?”
Maxwell rolled his eyes. “This motherfucker.”
I turned to Jean-Pierre. “Is Fela coming or not?”
Jean-Pierre nodded. “He planned to not only bring the Italians men, but they discussed a ploy to take Pavel’s son and lure out the Mouse.”
I put my attention back on the Don. “Is that right?”
“It was simply a discussion, not a clear plan put into place.”
“Hmmm.” I aimed my gun at him.
The Don raised his hands. “I can be useful to you.”
Jean-Pierre walked over with the phone. “He probably could.”
I frowned. “I have enough frenemies.”
“Let me live so that I can—”
I shot him in the head and lowered the gun. “Let’s wait to see if Fela will arrive.”
“Too bad we couldn’t just wait for the Don to finish his fucking sentence.” Maxwell flipped his middle finger at me.
I sneered. “Do you want that broken off?”
“You are too quick with the gun, man. You got all that knowledge about fucking ancient Italians and shit, but your street smarts be off sometimes.” Maxwell picked up the lemon tree and headed to the balcony.
“Where are you going?”
“To smoke!”
I frowned. “But, why are you taking the tree?”
“Motherfucker, it is a Variegated Pink lemon tree. I’m keeping it!”
King David came over. “So we wait for Fela’s arrival?”
I nodded. “Two birds. One blood bath.”
“No need.” Jean-Pierre scrolled through the phone and shook his head. “Fela saw the smoke from the roof.”
The Butcher handed me the phone.
I read the text.
Fela: I see smoke. It looked like an explosion. Are you in trouble?
Don Fabrizio: The Russians are here! Help!
Fela never responded.
I put the Don's phone in my pocket. "Then, we head to the new hotel."
"I'll grab Maxwell." David glared at Jean-Pierre. "Perhaps, you can tell your idiot cousin to dry off and dress."
I shut the bookshelf, closing the dead don inside. I was eager to get to Emily.
Why didn't you answer, mysh?
I smirked.
Do you need to be disciplined with my cock this evening?
I headed away.
Talking on his phone, David walked off the balcony.
Maxwell followed, holding the lemon tree in one arm and taking a hit of his joint with the other hand.
"Alright." David hung up and looked at me. "The other problem could be fixed this week."
I stopped in front of him. "What problem?"
"Pavel's son."
Maxwell looked at us.
I nodded. "You found suitable guardians?"
David smiled. "I had someone doing a search on possible guardians for Paolo. They already have possibilities for Italy and they are in this region."
"Good."
David nodded. "And even Baba would like these people."
"Have them sent to the new hotel tonight. Emily and I will meet them."
Max blew out smoke. "Meet who?"
"The guardians. Paolo's new parents."
"Dude, Em put braids in his hair. It's a wrap." Maxwell took another hit of his joint.
"What do you mean it is a wrap?"
"That's your son now."
I glared at him. "My mouse understands that we will not be keeping Paolo."
"She put cornrows in his hair."
"Maxwell, I do not know what hair braiding means in America, but in Russia, it is simply styling."
"Naw, man. It's not an American thing. It's an Em thing. She is putting her little print on him when she does that."
"Fine. If that is true then even more, we will meet the guardians tonight, so she doesn't imprint anymore."