Plans With Who?

(SERGIO)

Beads of sweat trickle down my body and drip onto the belt of my treadmill. Every morning, I run in my gym but today, I just can't seem to stop, punishing myself for reasons that I don't understand.

While it was my idea to force Ivanna and Karlen to go out for dinner last night, I hadn't expected them to stay out that late. So when they came back, I studied the camera footage and saw Karlen take her up to his room. And they stayed there for an extended time. Then Ivanna came out, barefoot with her heels in her hands. And her hair was mused. Did Karlen fuck her?

I sneer. Boys. If my son had truly fucked her, then he did a piss poor job at it. If I had her in my bed instead, I'd keep her there all night. I'd give her more orgasms than her body could handle. I'd have her in all positions, up against the wall, over me, under me, against the wall, you name it. And I wouldn't stop doing all the depraved things that my mind would think of at the moment, until she screamed, begged, unable to handle anymore.

God! Why can't I stop fantasizing about her?

I crank up the speed and run faster. My muscles burn and scream from the effort. Sweat trickles from my face down to my shorts. Ivanna is becoming an obsession that I can't afford to act on. I even fucked Marlene, trying to get Ivanna out of my mind, but it didn't work. This constant, dark need keeps crawling inside me like some junkie that is desperate for a fix.

I should send them away after they get married. Much as I'd love to have family around, I'm not sure that I will bear watching them live happily ever after as a married couple, knowing that he is fucking her silly on the other side of the house. Watching her grow round with his babies on her belly. I might as well put a bullet in my brain.

I slap the stop button, slow down then finally step off. My chest is heaving heavily from my efforts to breathe, and I head into the shower. There are tons of unpleasant tasks awaiting me today, that includes finding the discrepancy with Karlen's shipment two nights ago. Then at some point, Ivanna will choose her wedding dress so that I can return her satchel. That means I will see her today, which I desire, but dreads me at the same time.

I allow myself to fantasize one more time while I'm in the shower. One more daydream of fucking my son's fiancée. She is tied up on my bed, her bratty mouth gagged and eyes remain hot and angry on me. Her naked body rid with pleasure and frustration. Her pussy swollen and wet, begging to be filled. My erection is hard as steel, and I jerk myself off furiously like a possessed person as the images keep flashing in my mind. Finally, I moan, thick ropes of cum tainting the wall and washing down the drain.

I dry off and put on a dark gray suit, vowing that this will be the last time. I will focus on the important issues at hand instead of panting after a lady young enough to be my daughter.

Resolved, I send word for Karen to dress up and meet me in my office. I need answers. Lucia is unusually quiet when I arrive into the kitchen, maybe sensing my dark mood. So, I don't linger. Once I have my coffee, I settle in my office and begin to work.

Karlen comes into the office about an hour later.

"Come in, I say and motion to a chair." I need to speak with you."

He is holding a cup and a saucer in his hand, which he places on my desk as he takes a seat. "Is something the matter?"

I lean back. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me about the other night?"

He blinks, going unusually still. "Which night?"

"The delivery, the one that you were in charge of?"

He seems relaxed as he picks up his espresso. "What about it?"

"It's light."

"No, that's impossible."

"So you're saying that Sergey is lying?" Sergey is one of my most loyal trusted men, which is why I had Karlen under him.

"No, but there has to be a mistake somewhere. I counted it myself. Before I left."

"And you were the last to leave." He shifts on his chair and from his body language, he reeks of suspicion. "Were you the last person to leave, Karlen?"

"Papa," he begins in a tone that I recognise from a long time ago. The same one he used when he wanted to get himself out of trouble.

"I'm not speaking to you as your father. I'm speaking to you as your boss. Were you the last person to leave? Or did you shirk your duties to someone else?"

He exhales slowly. "I was supposed to stay, but I left early Lev and Mikhail finished up."

I know the boys. They are about Karlen's age, and aren't as responsible. Anger gnaws at me at my son's stupidity that I feel the tendons at the back of my neck tighten. "Why?"

"I had plans." He says quietly.

"With who?"

"A friend. It's not important."

"Yes it is." I slam my desk with my palm. "You have a job, you do it. Not leave it to some idioms to do it so you can go get some pussy instead."

His cheeks flush and defensiveness paints the lines of his face. "It wasn't about pussy, papa. It was a friend."

I smother an aggravated sigh. I know that he is lying. I'm certain of it even. Nobody would leave such a sensitive task to have beer and watch football with his friend. "You should set an example, Karlen. As a Sakharov, you must be better than anyone else. More loyal, more accountable. More bloodthirsty. One day, all this property will be in your name, and that is what will get the men to respect you."

"I know, Papa. You've told me this since I was old enough to hear it."

"Yet I'm missing four hundred grams of uncut cocaine?"

"You will get it back."

"No. I won't. I will handle this with Sergey. You will pretend like nothing is a miss, okay?"

"What will you do to Lev and Mikhail?

"I don't know. I haven't decided yet. But you know stealing from the Dvina cannot be tolerated."

A muscle jerks in his jaw, but he doesn't plead for the other men. Not that it would help anything because when it comes down to family decisions, I make them. If I decide to kill or let them live, Karlen has nothing to say or do to stop it.

I can't help but ask about last night. "How was dinner?"

"Fine."

"Maksim says you took her to the club after."

"Yes."

Karlen knows how much I hate one worded answers. "Did you two get along well?"

What I really mean to ask though is, 'Did you fuck her after?'

"Of course. I like her. A lot."

I tap my pen on the desk, trying to resist the urge to stab myself on the thigh with it. "Good. She's going to choose her wedding dress today. But I want your crew out making collections. We need to clean up the books before the general meeting."

"I heard. Are we done here? I haven't had any breakfast yet, so I need to get going."

I nod. He leaves quickly, leaving me unsettled. Something about the said friend bothers me. Who is this woman he's seeing who's made him go against orders? I need to find out who this woman is and put a stop to this nonsense.

Karlen's first priority should be to family and family alone.

A few minutes later, Maksim walks in and I fill him in on all the details. He looks as confused as I was. "That's so unlike Karlen. He wouldn't leave his job for some random woman. He isn't one to play with girls in clubs. He is always very respectful. I haven't seen him accept a blowjob once."

I have never worried about whoever Karlen is fucking. But now that it has interfered with business, I have to know. I have to get involved. "Find out who she is. Have him follow every night, discreetly."

I rub my eyes. Feeling tired and worn out by responsibility. Some days, life threatens to drag me under and steal the little sanity I have left.

But then, I know nothing else. Since birth, I was raised to sit in this very chair and direct one of the biggest crime networks in Russia. And I'm fucking great at my job. My gut is telling me that something isn't right with Karlen, and I have to find out what.

"Did you sleep last night?" Maksim asks.

"Yeah, three hours or so." That is the usual amount. I have barely had a good night's sleep since I was thirteen.

"You can't keep going like this, Sergio. You will soon have a heart attack on your desk."

"Then I expect you to cry at my funeral."

"I'll be sure to show up in white."

"Asshole."

"You love me." He grins at my insult.

I do. He is the one person that I trust with my life. "Speaking of, Ophelia arrives at noon. I need you to handle it. Set her up in the ballroom and have Ivanna choose a dress. Make sure she does."

"You're sure you don't want to see her select the dress? Maybe watch her try them on?"

I do, what infuriates me so badly that he could read it plain on my face. "Fuck you."

"He didn't fuck her. Last night."

I try to keep my expression unchanged. "Oh, and how would you know that? They were in Karlen's room, and she had her shoes in her hands when she came out."

"No swollen lips, no beard burn. She looked pensive. Not satiated."

I hate to admit it, but the news gives me a bit of relief. Christ! I'm so pathetic. "Fucking her before the wedding would be do disrespectful. Karlen knows his place. Besides, I'm not sure why you think I'd care."

Maksim smirks. "Sure. Sergio. Anything else?"

"Get out of here. I need to work."