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)
They rushed away.
David faced the window. "Should I get you a larger cup of coffee?"
"What I need is my mouse."
"Blue just messaged and said that they are on their way."
"Why am I just hearing about this now?"
"Because I just heard about it."
I clenched my jaw and gazed out the window.
The bright sun beat down on the white sands. Birds flew in the clear blue morning sky. The ocean waved and rippled with the wind.
I brought the cup to my mouth and took a large gulp of coffee.
Behind me, I heard two or three leather chairs scrape against the table, followed by the soft sound of distant footsteps moving away.
David spoke, "As your number one, I should remind you that the last time you involved a bomb into a plan, Emily threatened the other men and me in the room with violence, and then left you."
"This time is different."
"It is?"
"I evacuated—"
"We evacuated last time."
Turning, I glared at him. "And now, this is a war."
Jean-Pierre's voice sounded behind me. "I would like a chamomile tea with a hint of brown sugar."
I turned. "Get him a coffee."
Wassily had been taking Jean-Pierre's order. Fast, Wassily put the teacup down and grabbed a mug.
What the hell do they have on?
On the other side of the table, the Perfumed Pansies stood across from me, decked out in over exaggerated elegance and clearly heading to someone's ball. They wore tailored pinstriped suits with tailcoats and gold buttons down the front. The extravagance continued with bright blue silk ties, sparkling diamond tie pins, and polished shoes, reflecting the bright lights in the room.
They looked like an antique band about to play for a royal circus.
I was actually shocked they didn't have on diamond brooches shaped in flowers or peacocks, pinned to their lapels.
Jean-Pierre wore a bored expression. "I prefer tea."
Unsure of what to do next, Wassily faced us and held the mug in mid-air.
Frowning, I took a sip. "I never trust a man that doesn't drink coffee."
Jean-Pierre pulled out a chair. "And I don't trust anyone that thinks it makes a difference, between whether a man should drink tea or coffee."
I shrugged. "Drink what you want, Jean-Pierre."
Wassily looked at Jean-Pierre.
"Tea." The Pansy tipped an imaginary hat and lowered in his chair.
Giorgio sat on his left.
Louis on his right.
A couple of the French positioned themselves close to them at the table. The rest of the French backed up and remained against the walls with some of my men.
Apparently still unsure of what to do, Wassily put his view on me.
"Get Jean-Pierre what he wants, just be quick." I took another large gulp and swallowed. "We don't want Jean-Pierre to be late for the ball and miss his Prince Charming."
Some of my men snickered.
"Hmmm." Jean-Pierre checked his Patek Philippe watch, dotted in diamonds, garnered in rose gold, and finished with a sapphire crystal case. "Take your time, Wassily. It's nowhere close to midnight."
Suspicion crept in. "When did Wassily tell you his name?"
Jean-Pierre leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands over his lap. "I never need introductions when it comes to your men."
"But you do need a reason for why you know their names."
"Should I not? Besides, I believe you have bigger problems to deal with." Jean-Pierre scanned the space. "Where is Emily?"
I slammed the cup on the table. "Emily is not your concern."
Jean-Pierre smiled. "Yet, friendships require many things—concern, care, love—"
"Respect."
"I have always had a healthy respect for Emily."
Maxwell barged in with a joint tucked behind his ear. "You all didn't start without the King, right?"
Everyone turned his way.
Ten Harlem Crew soldiers followed him inside.
Maxwell headed over to the small table near Wassily. "Yo, where are the croissants? I specifically requested warm croissants and strawberry jam."
David spoke, "I will have a plate of croissants brought to you during the meeting—"
"Hell no." Chuckling, Maxwell sat at the end of the table. "And have the fucking Butler try to shoot me because I didn't wash my hands. I'm good. I'll eat my croissants after the meeting."
The flat screen came on without anyone touching it. Misha's face greeted us. The view distorted a little and then came into clear focus.
He sat in a dark room. A few people walked around behind him, telling me that he must have been in his techno lair among his team of hackers.
Misha placed a headset with a microphone on and then appeared to be typing onto something in front of him. "Cousin, can you see me?"
"Yes." I walked to the edge of the table. "How did you turn the television on?"
"Even if I took the time to explain it to you, Kazimir, you wouldn't understand it."
I glared.
Misha leaned forward and squinted. "Maxwell, are you wearing our suit?"
"Yeah, man." Maxwell waved. "I figured this was a good time to bring it out—"
"Our suit?" I eyed Maxwell.
"It's a long story, man."