Paul’s medicine was running out, barely enough to last a few days, which was causing Josie some anxiety
“I have to go find him.”
When he heard these words, Dexter was sitting in the courtyard, pruning the branches of the flowers. He turned his head and asked, “Who are you looking for?”
“Arnold.”
Dexter withdrew his gaze. “No way.”
“Why? Paul’s medicine is almost finished. I have to find him to continue our dealings, instead of idly waiting here.”
“Do you expect him to give you special treatment because of your wounds?”
Josie glanced at the wound on her arm, unable to find words to express her feelings. When she turned around, she saw that Paul was sitting in the living room, cheerfully looking at her. A wave of discomfort washed over her.
She sat down, her face full of smiles, “Why won’t you let me go, Mr. Russell? You’re not still jealous of us, are you?”
Dexter remained calm and composed. “You’re too narcissistic.”
“Oh, then I must go.”
“Go ahead.”
Josie raised an eyebrow.
Dexter cast a glance at her. “It’s the first time I’ve seen a lamb willingly run into a pack of wolves. Quite courageous.”
Dexter decisively snipped off a wilted flower. “Let’s wait until the design is complete.”
No sooner had the words been spoken than a car sped by, coming to a steady stop outside.
The one who got out of the car was Morgan, reeking of alcohol. He seemed to have just left a late-night bar. He approached and said, “Oh, Mr. Russell, you’re quite the enthusiast, even pruning flowers.”
He rested his hands on the fence, casting a flirtatious glance at Josie.
Josie asked, “How much have you drunk?”
Morgan held out two fingers. “Not many.”
“Two boxes?”
“Two bottles of vodka.”
Dexter put down the scissors after he was done. “What do you think about Louis XIV? In winter, the flowers that bloom turn black.”
Morgan pursed his lips. “Indeed, it’s a good variety, but I can grow half a hectare of such a variety. Come see the results when it’s winter.”
This was said to Josie, who couldn’t be bothered to deal with him.
“Half a hectare, you must be loaded.”
“No amount spent on you will ever be considered too much.”
“You sure have a lot of energy, Mr. Bastille, to be able to manage half a hectare of flowers. I can’t. I can only tend to this one plant, the same goes for people,” Dexter slowly said.
At first, Morgan didn’t catch on. It took him a moment to realize he had been subtly mocked. Rolling his eyes, he said to Josie, “Come and see when the time comes.”
“I have no interest in flowers.”
Morgan didn’t care. He waved his hand and walked away. He didn’t seem to be joking.
The final touches to the design blueprint were completed within the mansion.
Under the pretext of acknowledging everyone’s efforts, Josie extended an invitation to all the studio employees to the mansion and orchestrated a lavish feast.
In the spacious living room, the design blueprint was printed out, ready for the final modifications.
When Dexter emerged from his study, he happened upon a crowd gathered below. Among them, Grape was merrily weaving in and out.
Everyone noticed when he appeared. He gave a slight nod and said, “Thank you for your hard work. If anyone has any dietary restrictions, let me know and I’ll inform the kitchen.”
Everyone exchanged glances, momentarily stunned. His face seemed so familiar. Someone regained their composure and replied, “Thank you, Mr. Russell,”
It’s Mr. Russell! Dexter Russell!
Everyone turned to look at Josie, whispering, “Damn, Ms. Jo, this is…”
Josie rubbed her forehead. “Pretend he doesn’t exist and relax.”
Dexter was none other than the former wealthiest man in Wavery. Everyone in Wavery knew him. It was impossible to ignore his presence.
