┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
"It always amazes me that you
never seem to notice how
annoying you can be..."

- Vincent
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Chapter 1 - A Russian Issue

▪️S E R G E Y▪️

Click. Snap.

Click. Snap.

Click. Snap.

The metallic sound of my silver and gold zippo lighter opening and closing echoed while I leaned against the glass wall of the elevator. My eyes focused on the purple illuminated numbers taking us to the top floor.

"Not how you expected to spend your birthday, eh Sergey?" Aleksandr commented sourly.

Shrugging a shoulder, I replied, "Thirty-four isn't really a special year..."

The Russian mafia boss nodded, his 6'5 frame tense. I could not blame him; the news we had received from New York a few days ago had unnerved us all. Moving my gaze towards our reflection on the mirrored doors, I watched as I stood next to my best friend.

Aleksandr wore one of his dark navy-coloured suits which he had paired with a white shirt. The layering effect brought out those piercing dark blue eyes of his. I, on the other hand, was clothed in my usual black on black. The top two buttons of my shirt were undone, showing a peak of my chest tattoos.

Even though I was only about an inch shorter than Aleksandr, the way in which I usually pulled my black hair up behind my head gave the appearance that we were the same height. In my arrogance, I tended to acknowledge that we were two very handsome men, as there was no use in denying the physique we had both been blessed with.

Biting the corner of my bottom lip, I continued my silent observation.

Noticing where my eyes were focused, Aleksandr relaxed slightly and grinned, "Your man bun looks fine, Seryozha."

"Haha, very funny, Sasha! But how many times must I tell you that it's called a top knot!"

The deep rumble of his laugh tickled my ears and I grumbled and bumped my shoulder into his. He playfully reciprocated with a gentle nudge of his own, trying to push me off balance.

Here, in the privacy of the elevator, we allowed ourselves a brief moment of ease. 

We rarely ever used the diminutive form of our names out in public. Only those close to us were allowed to call us by our nicknames and even among those individuals, we often kept many of these intimate exchanges between us private.   

Suddenly, the elevator doors pinged open, causing us to refocus our attention and straighten our posture.

"Let's get this shit over with," Aleksandr said as we stepped out.

The elevator doors opened into a large penthouse suite and the first sight that greeted me was nothing out of the ordinary.

Dominic Calvetti was pacing about, his commanding voice hissing while he spoke on his mobile phone. The pale-faced Italian mafia boss was a pyromaniac and while I could appreciate our shared love of fire, I often wondered about his taste in wardrobe.

The man was obsessed with purple!

My grey eyes observed the eccentric purple pinstripe suit he was wearing today and I wrinkled my nose slightly, unable to stop myself from comparing my own dark attire to his.

Dominic's appearance was appalling to most people when they saw him for the first time. He had a rare skin condition that resulted in him having very pale skin as well as silvery-white hair. Even though some people called him a freak of nature, I honestly could not picture him looking any other way.

Coupled with that creepy laugh of his, he could give the Joker a run for his money.

When my eyes trailed over to Dominic's second in command, I found Vincent Scanello sitting off to the side. His dark brown eyes stared intently back at me, the colour often reminding me of fine aged whiskey. The man was as uptight as they came, but even though I felt like he should adjust the stick up his ass, he had earned my respect.

Sending him a wink, I grinned when he responded with a scowl before looking away.

Aleksandr rumbled low in his throat, wordlessly telling me to behave. Running my tongue over my teeth, I did as he commanded even though I was tempted to act up a little.

Without making another sound, Aleksandr moved towards the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. He pushed his tattooed hands into his pockets while his eyes looked down at the city lights below.

Even though it was just after midnight, the Aelbank City was buzzing.

My fingers tightened around my lighter. Using the pad of my thumb, I trailed over the engraved patterns while I went to sit in a chair close to Vincent where I proceeded to engage the surly man.

"How's the boyfriend?" I asked softly.

Vincent visible stiffened next to me, an inaudible grumble was his reply.

A few days ago, after a meeting, I had seen him gently caressing a man's cheek when he thought no one was looking. Before I could have made my presence known, Aleksandr had grabbed me by the back of the neck and dragged me away, telling me to mind my own business.

But I have always been a curious man and I enjoyed pestering Vincent.

Leaning over to him, I whispered with a grin, "Oh come on, don't be like that! You know such things don't bother me. Besides, I have no discernment about where a man chooses to stick his cock."

Scoffing, he muttered, "You need not concern yourself with my cock..."

"And you really need to stop being so tense. Damn, I was just trying to have a friendly conversation."

Narrowing his eyes, Vincent said, "You know, it always amazes me that you never seem to notice how annoying you can be..."

"Ah, Vincent, you wound me!" I gasped and clutched at my chest.

This was my usual response to his typical scathing replies. With a soft chuckle, I decided that I would give Vincent a break and stop pestering him, for now at least. I cleared my throat, and turned my attention back to the room.

Dominic had just finished his call and was walking over to Aleksandr.

"Alright, everything's been sorted! We're ready to head up to New York, let me know what time you wish to depart."

With his eyes still focused on the city, Aleksandr replied, "I think it's best you and your men sit this one out."

Glowering, Dominic asked, "Are you sure you don't need my help?"

I stifled a snort and continued to observe the two men. Aleksandr's only response was to exhale slowly while tightening his fists in his pockets.

"Look, Tolstoy, I know that Alessandro fucked up–"

Cutting him off, Aleksandr said, "No offense, Dominic, but this is a Russian issue..."

Vincent made a sound while shifting in his seat, no doubt ready to move between them in the event that a fight was to ensue. At this, I tapped my free hand on the arm of Vincent's chair. When he glanced at me, my eyes told him to let them be, for seeing the two mafia bosses argue was always entertaining.

"You really are annoying," Vincent grumbled.

"Please, don't act like you don't enjoy watching their faces go red as they squabble with each other..." I answered in a whisper.

In front of us were two of the most powerful men in Aelbank City.

Aleksandr was an imposing man, known to many as the King of meat hook sodomy. Dominic, meanwhile, was as ruthless as they came and had a volatile personality to match. My eyes flitted between them and even though Dominic was the boss of Aelbank City, there was a silent acknowledgement that Aleksandr could take over if he truly desired to.

After all, whenever Dominic was absent, he always left Aleksandr in charge.

Lucky for most, my best friend was an honest man and would never stab anyone in the back. Especially someone who helped him.

Even if the Calvetti mafia boss might be the devil himself, everyone knew that Aleksandr had an even bigger monster inside of him. The only difference was that the Russian kept his in a cage, and I prided myself on having access to the keys.

I knew why Dominic and Vincent were so invested in coming to New York with us.

Two words: Jade and Quintin.

Two Orphans whom they had rescued from a depraved paedophile by the name of Enzo. Now adults, they were slowly making a name for themselves within the mafia world. Having been in a similar situation, it was only obvious that Jade and Quintin wanted to come and help free those being held captive.

The skin trade was absolutely forbidden in Aelbank City.

Having an operation as big as the one uncovered going on under Alessandro's nose was something that we just could not ignore. More so since we had partnerships with New York.

From the glare in Dominic's intense blue eyes, I knew that a clash between these two powerful men was about to take place and the corner of my lips tugged in excitement. As the mafia bosses began to argue in hushed tones, I felt one of my phones vibrate in my jacket.

Putting my lighter away, I then took out the space grey device.

Swiping up the screen, I stared at the semi-nude photo of a leggy brunette named Tiffany, she was holding a red velvet cupcake with a single black candle on it, the wax dripping onto her well-endowed chest.

One would never think that the prudish daughter of a well-respected politician would have a fetish for being gagged and tied up by tattooed mobsters. But then again, there was a saying that the quiet ones were usually the kinkiest, and in my experience, it was true more often than it was not.

After quickly viewing the image, my eyes moved lower to read her message.

Mayor's Daughter:
"Happy Birthday Master Sergey!
My husband's out of town this weekend. Will I be seeing you?
I miss that big cock of yours..."

Sergey:
"Can't, busy."

Mayor's Daughter:
"😳👉👈
Aww alright,
I'll wait for your call then, Sir..."

Without replying, I stuffed the phone back into my pocket.

If there was one thing that I liked about Tiffany, it was that she understood her role. What we had was just sex and nothing more. Unlike other women, she knew better than to demand more than I could give.

As much as I liked getting my dick wet, sex was the furthest thing from my mind right now due to the severity of the situation on hand.

Lifting my gaze back towards the wall of windows, I observed the way in which Dominic scowled at Aleksandr as the outcome of their discussion became obvious. The Calvetti mafia boss and his men would not be accompanying us.

It made no sense for the two of them to go to New York anyway. One of them was more than enough, and like Aleksandr has said, this was a Russian issue.

The perpetrator in question was an old business partner of Vadim, Aleksandr's uncle. The fact that Artyom thought it would be a good idea to run a sex trafficking ring in New York only proved that he was indeed going senile in his old age.

"Sergey, let's go," Aleksandr commanded and walked towards the elevator.

"Da, nachalnik!" I replied, getting up to follow him.

Minutes later, when we settled into the backseat of the car, I mentally prepared myself for the night ahead. Honestly, I was not looking forward to what we would find in New York.

Aleksandr placed his hand on my knee, the warmth of his palm radiating through the material. When his thumb gently caressed the curve of my joint, I knew that he was trying to reassure me, and perhaps himself as well.

We had been friends since childhood.

My father had worked for his and we had grown up together, the mafia playing an important role in our lives. Since his own mother had died when he was young, my mother, Katina, had treated Aleksandr as her own and the two of us had grown up like brothers.

Although, if I were to be honest, the bond between us ran deeper than any familial affiliation could.

I would gladly give my life for Aleksandr and would not hesitate to take a bullet for him. Even though he would do the same for me, I often had to remind him that it was my job to keep him safe because fuck, I did not need the responsibility of taking over the Aelbank Russian mafia.

"This is my fault; I should've fucking killed Artyom and his sons when I had the chance! I promise I will fix this," he said, pulling me from my thoughts.

Shaking my head, I countered, "It's not your fault, there's no way any of us could have foreseen this! Unfortunately, as much as we would like to, we can't have ears and eyes everywhere,"

"I know, but we'll make things right, we'll rescue them," Aleksandr affirmed.

With his palm still resting against my knee, I replied with a nod then placed my own hand over the back of his before softly squeezing. It was my turn to offer silent comfort, knowing that Aleksandr was blaming himself for the travesty that had occurred in New York.

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A/N: Welcome to another Aelbank City Mafia book! 😊

The Russian term, "Da, nachalnik!" simply means, 'yes boss'.

Once again, I'd like to give a special shout out to the lovely DariaLamtsova for helping me with all the Russian translations that will be found in this book.