39. Lucas
CHAPTER 39
Lucas
I mpatience churned in my stomach as I eagerly reached out to Don Martin. My entire future rested on this man's shoulders, so I had to ensure everything was meticulously planned. With precision and care, I invited him to visit my Miami home. "A chance to present you with the latest numbers while we enjoy the fruits of our labor," I said to him.
In preparation for his arrival, I worked tirelessly to create a delectable meal using only the freshest ingredients from my kitchen gardens. After showing him the entire grounds, we dined in the open-air gardens, surrounded by vibrant blooms and the soothing sound of the bay waters just a few feet away.
After our meal, I eagerly led him on a tour of my tropical oasis, showcasing all the exotic plants his contact sourced for me.
I walk through the rows of orchids, philodendrons, and other tropical plants, their delicate petals and leaves brushing against my skin. The humid air clings to me. Don Martin's footsteps crunch on the gravel path behind me.
"Impressive setup you got here, mijo," Don Martin lets out a low whistle as he surveys the lush greenery surrounding us. "I see Martin came through with the plants," he chuckles as he touches one of the leaves of my variegated philodendron Florida Beauty.
What started as a way of keeping Serafina close to my heart has quickly turned into my own personal haven from the stresses of this life. But I hesitate to tell him the entire truth. How can I tell my business partner that each blossom, each unfurling leaf, makes me feel closer to her?
"Helps me clear my head." I force a casual shrug. "Escapar de todo el lío, ya sabes."
Don Martin nods slowly. "We all need our escapes." His eyes meet mine, too, knowing.
I look away, pretending to inspect an orchid. Its fuchsia center draws me in, reminding me of the flush that would bloom on Serafina's cheeks whenever I kissed her. Christ, I can't think about that now.
"Women are the sweetest trouble there is, son. But also the most dangerous."
I bristle slightly. What does he know of my sweet Serafina? She's no mere troublemaker. She's everything good and pure in this tainted world.
But I bite my tongue. Now's not the time. I have bigger preoccupations than defending her honor. The Fabiettis have been causing problems for her family, testing our borders and threatening lives. It's time to remind them who truly holds the power in this city. And for that, I need Don Martin's help.
"I wish I could say you're only here for business," I say abruptly, ready to change the subject. "As you saw from my numbers, the Oakland expansion is quickly exceeding our expectations. The Mancinis and I are eternally grateful to you."
"Así lo he oído. Well done." Don Martin claps me on the shoulder. "I'm the one who's grateful, mijo."
My son. It feels good to hear those words. My throat constricts, and I have to force myself to swallow. "Gracias. That means a lot."
We walk on without speaking, only the soft whir of sprinklers and the distant honking of geese breaking the silence. It's peaceful here, an oasis hidden amid the city's chaos—a place to breathe and think of her.
I come to a halt, turning to face him and taking a deep breath before I continue. "I need another favor. A big one. It's about the Fabiettis."
His eyes narrow. The temperature around us drops a few degrees despite the humid warmth of the greenhouse. "I'm listening," he says, his voice low and serious.
I exhale, feeling a weight lift off my chest. This is the moment of truth. "The Fabiettis, they've been causing trouble for the Mancinis. Long story short, they want the Mancinis gone, and I can't let that happen." I clench my fists at my sides.
Don Martin doesn't even blink. His stony expression remains unmoved. "I see. And what exactly are you proposing?"
"Whatever it takes." I set my jaw and meet his piercing gaze head-on. "Cut off their supply lines. Torch their warehouses. Break some bones if we have to. We need to hit them hard and fast, leave no doubt about who's in charge."
A long, heavy pause stretches between us. I hold my breath, bracing for his response. Will he balk at such brazen measures? Try to talk me down?
But slowly, Don Martin's thin lips curve into a smile. A cold, ruthless thing. "Lucas," he says, clapping a heavy hand on my shoulder. "I thought you'd never ask."
Relief floods through me, followed by a surge of gratitude. "So you'll help us? Give us the manpower and resources we need?"
"I'll give you everything you and the Mancinis need to get rid of them. You name it, you got it." His eyes glint with a predatory intensity. "I've done my research on them; I knew it was only a matter of time before we had to take action. It's about time we show these Fabietti upstarts what happens when they fuck with the wrong familia."
"Gracias, Don Martin. Truly." I clasp his hand firmly, sealing our pact. "The Mancinis won't forget this. I won't forget this. We owe you a great debt."
"No debts between friends, Lucas." He chuckles, a raspy sound. "Besides, I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for me. It's in my interest to exterminate anything, or anyone, who gets in the way of our budding empire. And the Fabiettis? They're bad for business."
I nod slowly, understanding blooming. In this world, there are no true altruists. Only aligned self-interests. And yet, I can't help but feel a swell of appreciation for the man before me. Ruthless and cunning, yes. But also a loyal ally. A rare commodity in our circles.
"Still," I press on, "I'm grateful, Don Martin. More than I can say."
"Save your gratitude for when the job is done, mijo." He looks out over the lush foliage and the vibrant blooms. "Pretty things, your plants. But remember, even the loveliest gardens have thorns."
With that, he turns to leave, footsteps echoing against the concrete. And I'm left alone amidst the plants and my swirling thoughts, steeling myself for the dark road ahead.
But before I can embark on this path, there is one more task that Nora and I must take care of.