THAT SWEET BOY IS MINE

The phone rang. The dreaded Petya Duscha Zaytsev Ivanov, stroked her temples slowly, dying and reeking of alcohol and tobacco, something not surprising after a night in different bars accompanied by her people, enjoying, above all, the evening together with the crowd, ecstatic and eager for more adrenaline, adventure and madness. She opened her blue, blushing eyes, mumbling every possible rudeness.

She stood up staggering, half naked, showing her sculpted and worked body to no one, her perfect and adequate attributes, made her look like a goddess, imposing, that dictator, she was having a migraine and that made her even more angry. She picked up the phone a few steps away and lazily put it to her ear, listening to the voice of her friend, happy and content, Donato Pyotr Pasha Dimitrieva De Angelis.

-Good morning princess, are you done fucking yesterday's guy yet? -he smiles teasingly, sticking his head out of the window of his Heroleck.

-Bastard, before you even thought about it I had already eaten the whole thing, what do you want? Hurry up, I have a fucking headache. -I've got a fucking headache.-she yawns, tired and satisfied. -I don't even know what time they took it out of my house. -She rubs her eyes softly, slightly impatient. -Talk now or I'm going to hang up on you.

-Oh, but what a bad mood you're in today. -he sighs. -Today we have the meeting with the Yakuza. Bitch, I know that Sunday is for resting, but clearly you took it too seriously to forget that you have commitments today... -he chews the cigarette that seconds before he had put in his mouth, thoughtfully. -Duscha... Did something happen at the bar?

Silence reigned, almost penumbral. The dictator, demanding and cold Petya Ivanov, stared at the ceiling of the great hall, untidy and smelling of sex and tobacco, hypnotized, dry-lipped and gaping, looking for some air, to breathe in that place? It was impossible, she felt herself floating in the clouds, deeply absorbed in her thoughts, until she finally took a deep breath, staggered once again and looked around.

-I leave in an hour, wait for me outside the castle.

-Duscha, wait...

She hangs up quickly, gently placing the phone on the desk. Watching it as this one holds big secrets through the screen. "Damn it, I can't have come to my house and fuck without getting in trouble first, that's what's wrong." Enraged she throws the chairs towards the wall, smashing them, full of anger. You stroke her abundant, newly short hair, a little more than halfway down her neck. You rub her green eyes, slightly red from drunkenness; She drops onto the white leather couch and screams angrily, ending with curses into the air, takes a deep breath and rubs her lips together.

-Fuck, fuck, fuck! -she mumbles angrily. -Jessica! -she calls irritatedly to her housekeeper. She appears instantly, as always elegant and clean. Undoubtedly that woman during her youth was the most beautiful woman in that rich area and the secrets she could reveal of everything she had seen in more than 30 years of experience would ruin the name of anyone who dared to touch a hair on her head.

-I may be his housekeeper, but I wiped your ass and I still have to keep on doing it. -With finesse and without losing the perfect posture of her shoulders, she went inside and started picking up all the dirty clothes from the floor, including men's underwear, black habaneros and a couple of dirty condoms. -What in God's name is that? -she questioned, looking at the thing with utter disgust.

-Have you never seen a sex toy before? -she asks calmly, closing her eyes seconds later.

-No wonder that boy limped out of this room, we had to drive him home, and I say we had to drive him home because I had to accompany him, your men were trying to make fun of him and I hit each of them with a rod in the back. -she mumbles, irritated. -Educate that pack of animals, no, it's more... Start with you, get up and fix your room, I'm not going to clean it.

-But...

-Nothing. -Inflexible, she points her index finger authoritatively, closing her mouth between grumbles to the young blonde-haired girl. -Hurry up, breakfast is almost ready. Got it?

-Yes. -she sighs and looks at her, still standing in the doorway. -Yes, ma'am.

Lazily and sticky with sweat, she diligently cleans the room, mumbling and cursing every now and then, until the job is done. Certainly, to Madame Volkova no one could give orders, she is the one who gives orders when it comes to the care of the household and good behavior, regardless of how dangerous was the guest entering that castle in the middle of the cold and greenish countryside, she inspired respect and sometimes fear. "To challenge Madame Volkova, is to challenge the devil, daughter, don't you dare to contradict her, unless it is very, very necessary to do so," are the words of her father, Vladimir Viktor Zaytsev Tarasov, former patriarch of the Romanov Clan. After inheriting everything to his daughter, he decided to retire to the forest, about 20 kilometers from the family castle, it was literally another world in that small hut, sometimes the silence despaired Duscha when she goes to visit him, causing laughter in her father who watches her and sighs, "When you learn to make patient, you will understand how important silence is at some point in our lives", Duscha, of course, just laughed and told him that he was already old and that's why he thought he was some kind of mountain monk. But all those actions had a reason to be, the tiredness, without the exhaustion, had come sooner than Mr. Vladimir thought, but that, which is power, did not interest him anymore and he wished only to eat sardines from the small stream and drink hot water with honey on cold and rainy nights.

-Finally, damn, it smelled like shit. -she sighs, inhaling the smell of oatmeal soap on her skin and the sweet smell of cinnamon shampoo. Her stomach growls. -Fuck. -she pats her stomach and quickly pulls on the black turtleneck sweater, matching perfectly with her grayish suit, with light plaid stitching, tight to her muscular arms, enhancing her worked buttocks and enhancing her athletic and imposing figure. She quickly descends the stairs, finding her men in the kitchen dining room, eating, if that's what you call eating decently, bread, butter, cereal and other baked goods.

-Chief, good morning.

-What's so good about them? Oh, my goodness. -shakes out his suit jacket and combs his slightly wavy hair to the side. -Let's eat quickly, you must accompany me to a meeting. -she says with her usual expression, neutral, cold and certainly, to a certain extent, pacific. The three men who were watching her from time to time, jump in their chairs, slightly startled, seeing her thoughtful face and then raising her left hand, instantly, "The left hand", thought the troglodytes in the kitchen. -I don't want any fight, I remind you that no matter how much your asses itch, the Japanese are our allies. -she observes them carefully; to which they nod. -Jasha, I'm serious, I don't want your crappy mood at the meeting, I swear, if you provoke any of the members, I'll put you in a coma myself. -she says with dull, opaque eyes, sipping from her coffee cup. -Jasha, also nicknamed "The Quiet One", nods and wrinkles his nose, annoyed by the call for attention. -Okay, not being any more, let's wait for Donato to arrive and then we'll leave, meanwhile get the cars ready, Alexey! -she takes a deep breath and observes the man with black eyes, who, silently, finishes chewing his fifth loaf of bread with cheese and ham. The man nicknamed "El comelón", smiles trying to make his boss's face change. -I'm not laughing, stop eating, in fact, I shouldn't even give you a glass of water after you disappeared the two-story cake from the house, to eat it by yourself.

-Duscha! -shouts her dear friend, Donato. -Hurry up, I don't have all day! -he plops down on the seat, licking a lemon popsicle. The heat was infernal, he needed to cool his brain.

-Get up!, he was much earlier, I'll see you at the big house. See you at the big house.

She quickly finishes her coffee and adjusts her clothes, and then goes out to meet the green haired man, smiling like a happy child with his lemon popsicle. She climbs into the car quickly, thundering her bones as she sits down next to him.

-Shit, what a long night.

-It looks like it sucked, except for the fucking?

-Yeah, pretty much except for the fucking. -she laughs loudly and sighs. -Start, we have to keep to the schedule. -sigh. -Inu Yasha clan, let's talk... Let's talk very well. -she smiles slyly, closing her eyes in anticipation of bad news.

Naturally, most skilled readers do not appreciate the little notes of the writers, they do not go deeper or even identify themselves with little notes before they start reading.

Do they go deeper or reflect? For Duscha Ivanov, it represents the same thing, to deepen, to go beyond what the author only pretends to quote, it is to reflect to her feeling, perhaps a genius should not even consider that, but Duscha, much to her hostility and reluctance, knew that her soul, no matter how dirty her hands were justifiably in the eyes of many, was there, resting in the warmth of the strength and character that for years she was forced to form to earn the respect of her allies and enemies.

"On being asked what the demon was like, the aged miracle-worker Misquamacus covered his face so that only his eyes were visible, and then made a very curious and circumstantial relation, saying that sometimes he was small and solid, like his Great Highness the Many-marbled Squire, but sometimes he was large and cloudy, without form, though with a face from which serpents issued." In the middle of his walk to the great hall of the Yasha's great house, he recalls the book he was reading yesterday, Manitú by Graham Masterton, he clearly appreciates Lovecraft's universe and that work, it spoke of a red skin growing on the back of a woman's neck, "Metaphorically speaking, you're talking about a person's inner demons. Well, it's all psychology in the end, maybe, is that... I have my own demons, do I miss it? I've never fought them... I guess," thoughtfully, she strokes her hair and sighs, then yawns.

-Duscha. -Alexey, touches her arm lightly so that she pays attention to the man approaching her.

-Mr. Kobayashi, it is a pleasure to meet you. -she stops without looking away from the other man. She places her hands back and sighs sonorously, raising her eyes. -So?

-You're still so insolent, ever since you were a child.

Hiroshi Dai Kobayashi. Head of the Yakuza clan, Inu Yasha, known for managing, on a business level, several manufacturing companies in his country. Besides all the dead he has buried, he is respected among the Yakuza community and no boss, even if she could, would dare to kill him, that's getting a life sentence and becoming a big game rabbit.

-Exactly, you said it, when I was a child, I guess not anymore, right? -she carelessly walks to the meeting room leaving behind the 45 year old man smiling and shaking her head. Her disciples offended, she tries to approach, but Mr. Dai tells them to stop, as it is not necessary to get to this point. She warns the guards of both clans with her gaze and finally retires to the private room.

-You really haven't changed. -He closes the large door behind him, locking it.

-And you have aged too much. -she takes off her jacket and stretches her neck. -I'm tired and stop looking at me like that. -The man laughs and sits down across from her. -Don't your knees hurt from doing seiza? -she picks up a glass and pours some rice beer.

-No, I'm fine, this is the good sitting compared to your composure, you lazy bum.

-You still insult me.

-That has formed your character.

-Partly. -Looks at him and holds his gaze. -Fuck, what's the matter now?

-The Aziz clan is planning something, Duscha. Yesterday one of my people saw a member of Aziz leaving a corporate company specializing in software. And the next day, they found the girl who supplied him with the items hanging in his house. -subtly pours a nice shot of Japanese sake in its traditional glass or better known as O-choko. -The police took it as a suicide, but we found out that 6 policemen were bribed to fabricate evidence. Remember we can be as dangerous as you want, but justice comes in various forms no matter how much we wish to avoid it, so why not buy the nearest threat? -he greedily takes the sip of sake and holds his gaze with the young woman in front of him, who with thoughtful eyes, but full of fury at the same time, was looking at the glass with rice beer. -Duscha, don't act rashly, you know that Aziz's members are fucking crazy, think, I won't tell you patiently, you need that donut. -he pours some more sake and offers it to the young woman.

-Fucking sons of bitches. -she says apparently with kindness. -They made peace agreements, but envy won't let them sleep. And now they want to attack me, because I know it's me and my people, am I wrong?

-No, you are right.

-Then, since I don't have "the gift of patience", sorry "the wonderful gift of patience" ... What do you suggest, old man? -letting her rage blind her, she takes the sake. Mr. Dai knows how furious she is, he can't make her explore knowing how impulsive she is.

-Listen, brat and behave yourself. -he slams his fist on the table, to which Duscha rolls her eyes and smiles slyly. -You're too impulsive, you clearly lack the patience of your late grandmother, may she rest in peace with the gods. But this time you can't just go to calm the beasts, this time the Bashar brothers are determined to wipe out the Romanóv clan, we must be smarter, out of respect for your father, out of respect for your grandmother. -Losing his little patience, he takes one more drink of serve. -You spend your time in bars, parties and having sex anywhere, without measuring consequences. Anyone can kill you, taking your pleasures as an object of profit... I know you are not stupid, of that I have no doubt, but since you knew how to control the mafia in this country and out of here, you have believed yourself to be some kind of immortal God, Damn it, Duscha! Because of your inordinate security you're letting loose ends and now those bastards started acting right under your nose. -he takes a deep breath and rubs his frustrated face. -Listen, you'd better get going now or else there will be a war against Aziz and his allies!

-...-She opens her mouth to try to say something, but only strokes his hair, licks her lips, takes a drink of rice beer and looks into the eyes of the man in front of her. -What do you suggest, old man? -That look for Dai, is a sign that she is attentive and that her pride would not let her apologize, because every word of the man, overflows with truth. -Tell me what you suggest or I'll leave right now, I don't have time for your sermons.

-You are impossible. -he shakes his head and closes his eyes trying to remember. -I got it... But, listen very carefully. -he removes the drinks and rests his hands side by side on the small table. -I swear by my daughter Momo, killed by Yamato Ayaka, that, if you dare to cause harm to that boy, I will cut off your fingers myself and make you swallow them.

He points his finger at the young blonde, who, expressionless, swallows whole, for Mr. Kobayashi only swears on behalf of his deceased daughter when he feels threatened or knows that someone close to him is being threatened... "Someone he loves and cherishes very much...", he recalls his father's words when telling him about Mr. Hiroshi.

-I don't care if your own father comes after my head later, I'll die in peace. -nods vigorously and takes a swig of sake quickly. -Go to the Valkyria Zhōu Táo coffee shop, look for Mrs. Píng guǒ Zhōu Chén, tell her that I sent you on my behalf and tell her that I will take responsibility for everything and protect her grandson. Tell him that we need his knowledge.

-Well, is that all? -she sighs and gets up annoyed by the situation.

-Impertinent, I haven't even finished talking....

-Then finish it. -Demanding and imposing, she fixes her jacket and then puts it on.

-Buy a giant Totoro stuffed animal, the biggest you can find, it will be the only way to gain his trust. Oh, and a classic book, he doesn't like current books.

-Tuta what? Hey, what the fuck are you talking about? I'm going to deal with a preschooler.

-Shut up and do as I say, he'll soon find out who he is. -smirks mockingly. -You'd better start meditating, dear Duscha.

-Shut your mouth, goodbye. -she says, out of her box and without crossing words with those present in the corridor, she gets into the car where Donato laughs when he sees her face enraged and reddened by the same thing. -Stop laughing and start, you bastard.

-What's got into you now?

-Later we'll talk about it at home, in the meantime we're going to eat something at a cafeteria that was recommended to me.

-You're paying, right?

-Insolent... Yes, I'm paying.

-Perfect because I've only eaten a breakfast popsicle, the damn heat didn't let me have breakfast in peace.

-You look andropausic, are you older and you've been cheating on me all these years?

-Damn you. -laughs out loud. -Now, tell me, what's going on?

-Aziz is provoking me, and you know what I lack?

-Pacience. Duscha, you better learn to have it, our generation is not as diplomatic as our parents, these bastards like conflict and our context is death and blood assured. -slow down the car. -That coffee shop isn't just to go and fill up on sweets, is it?

-No. -she shakes her head softly. -We'll watch the owners of the establishment for a while. Just that and then we'll go to an Asian store, whatever it is to buy a few things, I have to make sure one hundred percent, the help of that boy.

-I think I know who you are talking about. -he continues to drive the car. -I've never seen him, but my father said we'd better not touch a hair on the boy's head or Mr. Kobayashi....

-He'll cut off our fingers and make us swallow him... Yeah, I know.

All this unknown was making his chest itch. It was the first time such a thing had happened to her, and what made the moment worse was that giant sign in front of her -WANT TO FIND OUT WHAT'S BEHIND THE DOORS?! THEN COME AND COME TO THE GREAT MOSCOW PLAZA! My God, that was giving her a migraine again and it would be the second time with a migraine that day, something would definitely happen when she got to the cafeteria, who would she see, that guy is so scary? She wasn't sure about that, but knowing his likes for that childish creature, he had to be some kind of psychopath or something. She smiled, thoughtful and triumphant "Surely I can squeeze the breath out of him," she babbled pervertedly and closed her eyes to rest from the sun.

Those memories surfaced again among the rambling, in the middle of the trip, that smell of mud, blood and the image of that face, of that boy on the....

-Duscha.

The dictator and despot, Petya, came back to her senses, slightly agitated and disoriented. Again those living nightmares were tormenting her. But today? Why?

-Hey, come on, we've reached the cafeteria.

-Yes, where is it? -she asked with a frown, looking around?

-There. -he smilingly points to the small café.

-That matchbox is a café now.

-Well, that matchbox is another story inside, my friend.

-Anyway, let's go inside.

-Ohe!, wait. -he hands her a rubber band for her hair. -Make yourself a little frill so you look less intimidating, otherwise they'll throw us out, and when they throw us out we have to leave, you can't do whatever you want here. -she wrinkles her face and rolls her eyes impatiently.

-So, that's it? -she turns around shamelessly, mocking his warnings. -Let's go inside before I come to blows, you're stressing me out.

He carelessly opens the glassy, neat door, ringing the bell loudly and earning the stares of the people inside the establishment. A strange feeling, called embarrassment, settled in her for a few seconds and she arrogantly sat down at the second table of the place. The customers continued their munching while they talked quietly about their daily lives.

-Stupid. -Donato sits laughing in front of her. -Hey, was the fuck of the year so good that you're so sensitive today?

-You fucking brat. -she tries to reach for him with her hands, but he bursts out laughing, attracting the attention of the users.

-You're lucky today, motherfucker. -she mumbles, still glaring at him with hostility.