Chapter 4 The Pakhan's Invitation

MOSCOW, RUSSIA – MIKHAIL'S PENTHOUSE

Mikhail entered his penthouse, the Moscow skyline glittering beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Every step he took echoed authority, every breath quiet and controlled. The air changed when he walked in - colder, sharper.

He peeled off his suit jacket, unfastened his cufflinks, and walked up the floating staircase. His home was pristine, designed in slate and steel - like the man himself. Emotionless. Unyielding.

Vera was waiting. Draped in black lace, poised at the edge of his bed, she oozed confidence and temptation. Her tone was soft, sultry:

"You're late."

Mikhail didn't answer with apologies - just silence and steel. Their arrangement had never been about affection. It was physical, convenient, transactional. She approached, slid her arms around him - and for a second, her touch lingered near warmth.

But as she reached his belt, he caught her wrist.

Not cruel. Just final.

A silent dismissal.

He walked away.

Later, steam drifted from the bathroom as he returned, robe loose, body glistening with heat. Vera was still there, waiting like a statue carved in desire.

"Strip," he ordered, voice clipped and cold.

She obeyed instantly.

No hesitation.

Her fingers moved quickly, sliding the straps from her shoulders, the lace falling away like surrender.

She crawled towards him in a seductive way, but Mikhail wasn't turned on by that. Vera was on her knees and pulled his trouser, and his cock sprang out looking huge and long with veins on it.

"My favorite thing about you." She said laughing.

"Suck." his voice was commanding.

Vera sprang into action as she took the cock deep in her mouth, sucking like her life depends on it. Mikhail's cock became hard and Vera took him deeper and gagged plenty of times, but didn't stop.

"On all fours." The order came flat, unemotional.

Vera giggled while standing to climb the bed. She positioned herself in a doggy style, raising her huge ass so he could see her pussy dripping wet. "See what you caused Hail, my pussy is ready for you." She whispers.

Mikhail walked towards the bed and climbed it while holding his cock. He positioned himself and dived in with huge force, that Vera had to gasp loudly.

He was thrusting so fast like a devil that he was- a maniac, ruthless and heartless. He felt no pity as he thrust into her deeper and deeper.

Vera felt both pain and pleasure mixed together. She moaned so loud.

"Yes...faster..harder!.."she said.

"You..thrust..Don't..thrust..Get.. thrust...To..thrust...Tell me what to do.. thrust.. I command and you obey." his voice dropping with malice.

Mikhail dragged her hair as he was behind her and held her close to him, while he fucked life out of her. Her moan echoed inside his bedroom.

"I'm gonna cum.. so good.."she moaned so loud.

His grunts came next and he released his hold on her and came out of her. Vera turned and held his cock as he came all over her face.

"Whore...fucking whore." He said as he came so hard.

Her laughter filled the room. Mikhail came down from the bed and walked towards the bathroom.

*********

Mikhail sat in the bar area of his penthouse, sipping his whiskey as he gazed out the window. The dim lighting and smooth jazz playing in the background did little to ease the tension in his shoulders. Vera sauntered in, her movements fluid and sensual, a sly smile playing on her lips.

"You're done," Mikhail said, his voice cold and detached, not even looking in her direction. "You can go."

Vera left without a glance. Natalia, his younger sister, entered seconds later, fury in her eyes.

"She's a slut," she hissed. "You can do better."

Mikhail barely reacted.

"Do you think I care?"

Their exchange turned icy. Natalia, bratty and spoiled, demanded to stay the night.

"Go home, Nat," Mikhail snapped.

Mikhail watched Natalia storm out, the sound of her grumbling fading into the distance. He turned back to the bar, his eyes scanning the room before settling on the window. His mind began to wander, recalling his grandfather's words.

"Nikolai isn't fit to be Pakhan, Mikhail. He's too soft, too emotional. He lets his personal feelings cloud his judgment. You, on the other hand, have the makings of a great leader. I want you to consider getting married, Mikhail. It's time you settle down."

Mikhail's mind recoiled at the idea of marriage, a visceral reaction that went beyond mere distaste. It was a concept that grated against his very being, a constraint that threatened to suffocate the very essence of his existence. He was a force of nature, unyielding and unrelenting, driven by his own desires and ambitions. The thought of being tied down, of being beholden to someone else's needs and expectations, was anathema to him.

In his world, weakness was a luxury he couldn't afford. Marriage was a vulnerability, a crack in the armor that would allow others to exploit and manipulate him. He'd seen it happen to others, watched as they'd been worn down by the expectations and demands of their partners. Mikhail had no intention of becoming one of them.

He was a predator, a killer without conscience or remorse. His world was one of power and control, where the strong survived and the weak were devoured. Marriage had no place in that world, and Mikhail wouldn't be swayed by the idea of settling down or finding love. He was what he was, and he'd never apologize for it.

SICILY, ITALY – DE LUCA RESIDENCE

The family had just returned from Giovanni's burial, and the atmosphere was somber. Ivan, still visibly shaken, was trying to hold it together for his family's sake. His wife, Anastasia, noticed his distress and gently took his hand.

"Let me take you upstairs and take care of you, Mio Amore," she said softly.

Ivan nodded, and Anastasia guided him upstairs, her eyes scanning their daughters, Donatella, Valerie, and Ariana, who were watching with concern.

As they disappeared upstairs, Donatella let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm so tired of this mafia stuff. It's just so irritating. Giovanni was just 35, and now he's gone. Papa didn't even tell us how he died."

Valerie shrugged. "I don't think it's any of our concern how he died. What we know is that he was killed."

Donatella rolled her eyes. "Well, I don't care right now. I need to start preparing for my 20th birthday two month away. I'm going to talk to my friends and plan something."

With that, Donatella climbed upstairs,and entered her room, shutting the door behind her. She flopped onto her bed, surrounded by fashion magazines and birthday party ideas scattered across her comforter. She picked up her phone and started scrolling through social media, getting inspiration for her party theme.

As she browsed, she couldn't help but think about her family's expectations and the mafia lifestyle. She felt trapped and suffocated, longing for freedom and autonomy. Why did she have to be bound by the rules and traditions of the De Luca family? Why couldn't she just live a normal life, free from the danger and violence that came with being part of the mafia?

Donatella sighed and tossed her phone aside. Despite her reservations, Donatella couldn't wait to let loose and have fun tonight. She was meeting her friends at a club downtown, and she was planning to dance the night away. She put on a little black dress and some heels, feeling like a completely different person from the one who had been mourning Giovanni's death just hours before.

As she finished getting ready, Donatella's phone buzzed with a text from her friend. "Hey, girl! We're waiting for you at the club. Can't wait to celebrate your pre-birthday!"

Donatella smiled and grabbed her clutch. Tonight, she was going to forget about the mafia and just be a normal 19-year-old. She was going to party, dance, and live in the moment.

SAINT PETERSBURG, RUSSIA (THE BRATVA'S EMPIRE)

The Pakhan sat in his office, surrounded by a small team of advisors. "It's time to finalize the guest list for my birthday celebration," he said.

One of his advisors spoke up. "Sir, what about the Lafamiglia De Luca? I heard they just lost their consigliere."

The room fell silent for a moment. "Really? That's unfortunate," another advisor said.

The Pakhan nodded thoughtfully. "What do you think? Should we invite them?"

One of his advisors spoke up. "At least this party might bring them some ease. They're going through a tough time. If they're interested in attending, let's send them an invitation."

The Pakhan nodded. "Very well. If they're interested, send them an invitation. It will be interesting to see if they attend."

The meeting adjourned, and the team began making the necessary arrangements.

PALERMO, SICILY (LA FAMIGLIA DE LUCA EMPIRE)

As the morning sun cast its golden glow over the city, Ronan entered Ivan's study. "Sir, Barino Moretti is waiting to see you."

Ivan nodded, and Ronan ushered Barino into the study.

Barino bowed slightly. "Ivan, I've come to discuss something with you. We've received an invitation from the Pakhan. He's celebrating his birthday, and he's invited us to attend."

Ivan's eyes widened in shock and excitement. "What? How did you manage that?"

Barino smiled. "There's no need to know the details, sir. The main thing is that we've received the invitation. I told you I'd handle it, and I have."

Ivan's excitement grew. "This is incredible! We'll attend the party, and I'll make sure to make a good impression. This could be the opportunity we've been waiting for."

Barino nodded. "I'll make the necessary arrangements, sir."

Ivan's face set in determination. "I must make sure the Pakhan accepts our alliance. I won't fail my people for the second time. This is our chance to secure our future. And making sure the La Mano Rojas pay for the loss of our Consigliere."