Aliona Lucia Vasilisa Monti Mikhailov, once an innocent five-year-old princess of the Monti family, is now the Donna of the Russian mafia and wife to Amir and Axton Mikhailov. Kidnapped as a child and shaped into a ruthless assassin, she has grown i...
Do The Conti Family think I'm a fucken idiot? That I would not notice that these statements are part of a written script. Like, seriously! There have been multiple parts where I've read nearly identical descriptions of what happened. Oh, and don't get me started on the unusual phrasing and language used in the reports, which is one of the many signs indicating a cover-up.
Let's just hope I don't have to eliminate them. "Donna." Asya strides into my office, speaking Russian, and grabs my attention. After a brief nod, acknowledging her presence. Asya informs me that Elijah Conti and his son, Elias, are here. I will say this: my actions here in the next few moments have already been determined; nothing can change that now.
"Show them in," I order in Russian, closing my eyes momentarily, taking a deep breath, bracing for what lies ahead.
Allowing even the slightest misconduct without accountability sends the message that anyone can get off scot-free. It reflects poorly on my leadership, indicating an inability on my part to control my men. It not only tarnishes my image but destroys the reputation of The Russian Mafia, aka The Mikhailov Family. I'm just thinking about the potential backslashes that may occur if I don't watch my actions carefully.
My office door swings open again, but this time revealing Elijah and Elias Conti. As I observe them, Elijah stands out in his sleek black suit, emanating confidence. His son, Elias, mirrors his father's style in a sophisticated light gray charcoal suit. Their coordinated black dress shoes and white pocket squares complete their refined appearance.
"Donna," Elijah Conti acknowledges my presence in Russian, bowing down his head with his son. "What can we do for you?" He inquires, carrying a mix of caution and hesitation as he feels the weight of my demanding aura.
Shooting up from my desk, I slam down the report right in front of them. "What. Heck. Is. This!" I exploded in Russian, expressing my evident displeasure. Elias was so shocked he jumped along with his father, who was taken aback by my reaction but wasn't startled. His response was of someone who was expecting something like this to happen.
"D-Donna, I-I can explain." Elijah, a full-grown man, stutters, speaking in Russian in fear of my wrath.
Elijah takes a deep breath, nervously glancing at his son before going on about this. It was all a misunderstanding, and the information got twisted around while working on the report. Moreover, he makes the excuse that the Italians were the ones who initiated the conflict, not him. It's clear that he is only trying to justify his actions. Like, come on, I know you were only defending your honor and reputation, Elijah Conti.
Narrowing my eyes at him, "So, this is all just complications with the Italians?" I retort in Russian, my tone laced with anger. "Do you really expect me to believe that this whole mess is just a 'misunderstanding'?"
Elis, shifting his weight around, speaks up on behalf of his father. "D-Donna, they caught us by surprise." He stutters back to me, making a pathetic excuse, unconsciously acknowledging the fact that they knew what was happening but didn't stop it from escalating even further.
Continuing the conversation for a little longer, Elijah makes several attempts to salvage the situation, but each effort falls short. At the same time, his son, Elias, also tries multiple times to downplay his father's words. However, I refuse to lend an ear to his explanations; things have already been decided.
Why am I even entertaining this nonsense? I have more pressing matters to attend to than listening to these bullshit excuses. Fortunately, I've consulted with my husbands and Ivan prior to this meeting on how to handle Elijah. Considering his role as Capo, the expanding list of enemies he has accumulated, the consistent patterns of disregarding the chain of command, and the history of past incidents that have continually escalated, we have collectively reached the conclusion that the most appropriate course of action is to kill him.
We do recognize the potential in his son, Elias. However, given his father's impending removal, we've decided to give him two choices: One, Remain loyal to The Mikhailov Family and live, or two, face the consequences and die alongside your father.
"Elijah Conti, based on not just recent events but also previous ones." I lock eyes with him, making him more incredibly nervous. "You have become a liability," I say in Russian.
It takes him a moment to register. Elis tries pleading for his father's life. "Asya," I order in Russian. Bang! Before Elijah could even finish processing, Asya pulled the trigger, sending the bullet right through his skull. Splattering blood everywhere made me groan after realizing that I now needed to get my office cleaned again.
"Elis," I say his name in Russian, snapping back into reality. "I am giving you two options." I continued, staying strong and not portraying any weakness. "One, stay loyal and live," I stated firmly. "Or two, die."
"Thank you, Donna," Elias bowed his head. "I want to live." Kneeling with a knife in hand, Elias Conti, son of Elijah and Kamari Conti, swears his unwavering loyalty to Vasilisa Mikhailov and The Mikhailov Family, pledging allegiance through life and death. He solemnly cuts his palm, symbolizing his steadfast loyalty to the mafia.
Now focusing on some legal work, I start reading the report for BlackGuard Technology's office in Milan, Italy. This month, BlackGuard's Protection successfully achieved success within Russian, Italian, and American offices, and they have all reached their quotas. Revenue has increased by 3%. Bababba.. Surprisingly, operations expenses have managed to remain within budget.
Click, I hear my office door open. "Vasilisa, you're black, no sugar coffee."
"Thank you, Mishka." I praised my assistant's work.
Noticing my phone was going off with an unknown number, I declined it. "Anything e-." My phone goes off again with the same unknown number, interrupting Mishka. Busy at the moment, I decline again.
Seeing Mishka close my office door behind her, my phone goes off again. "This better be important!" I grumbled in Italian, accepting the call.
Hearing a male voice, I immediately recognized it was Micheal Lettiere's. "Mr. Lettiere, what have I told you about calling me on an unknown number," I demanded sharply, my tone carrying a note of frustration.
"My apologies, Donna," Ivan began, his tone respectful yet urgent. "I have the file you've been searching for."
"Good," I responded, a hint of satisfaction creeping into my voice. "Itay, Milian, Poco Caffè in two hours. I will order the strawberry croissant with extra powdered sugar." The directive was clear, conveying the importance of the meeting and the need for discretion.
Disconnecting the call, I summon into my office, "Mishka!"
"Yes?" Mishka enters my office with her reading glasses still on her face and her blouse in chaos as if she was abruptly interrupted.
Grabbing my wallet and my coat, I tell my assistant briefly what is going to happen. "I am going out and will be back around after one pm."
"Understood...?" Mishka replied back, confused, but didn't question me.
- Continue on to Chapter Four -
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