Taming My Mafia Stepbrother

Luca’s pov

I watched in thorough entertainment as Cara basically scurried into her apartment building the moment I pulled in front of the old house, her pert ass jiggling in her hurry to disappear from my presence.

She had been skittish since I had picked her up from the pizza shop, obviously embarrassed about the fact that we had sex, her awkwardness was another consequence.

Expert my ass.

I would show her mercy by not going after her, just for today, and that was mainly because I had something urgent to attend to. That aside, I didn’t think I would have been able to stop myself from barging into her apartment and burying myself inside her. It’s been less than two days since I finally had a taste of her sweetness but it felt like it was months.

I groaned, suppressing the twitch in my pants.

Unfortunately, I had to head to my biggest club to deal with some things even though I’d love nothing more than to spend the rest of the day with her and make her scream my name all night long.

Sighing, I pulled back the gearshift, reversed out of the place and drove back into the road.

I dialed Dominic’s number and his answer was prompt as ever.

“Don.”

“What’s the situation?” I demanded.

“The Mexicans are pissed and have shut down their operations for now to deal with the mess. Trying to talk through them doesn’t seem like it’d work at the moment.” Dominic’s tone was annoyed just like I knew it would be.

My good friend hated anything that disrupted order and Ronan Mikhalov’s heir was probably now at the top of his ‘to kill’ list.

My hand gripped tighter on the steering wheel, the Russians had struck again and they’ve advanced from messing with my storage to messing with my supplier.NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

Quite the upgrade.

My men were already waiting when I pulled up at the club.

Club Nova was my oldest and biggest establishment. The place was among the top three clubs in Chicago and was famous for hosting the famous.

To the outside world, it served as a luxuriously exclusive club, but on the darker side, it was home to the richest junkies and sexually depraved people in Chicago. Top notch celebrities and even powerful men of politics can be found in the VIP areas engaging in whatever sick acts they were into.

I got out of my lambo, tossing my key to a jittering valet and straightened my black suit that was now cast in purple from the large neon sign on the large building.

“Welcome boss,” my men said in unison, their stance straight and unmoving with respect as I walked through the aisle they formed with their bodies.

Booming music and flashing strobe lights hit me as soon as I got into the soundproof building, I strode straight to the private area, not having to weave through the crowd of dancing bodies as everyone made sure to move out of the way when they noticed me and my soldiers. Most of them probably didn’t know who I was but acted out of an innate impulse to avoid me.

We moved down the stairs leading to the basement area that was only accessible to a handful of men. Dominic was pacing the dimly lit room that was our meeting ground when I strode in.

Everyone rose to their feet. I put a hand out, motioning for them to return to their seats and took mine at the head of the table.

“So, what are the details?” I said, my tone serious.

Grigori pointed to the projector and a picture of a young blonde man flanked by bodyguards appeared. “So we discovered that Ronan Mikhalov had no hand in everything that had happened.”

I frowned, my eyebrows furrowing into one then the realisation came to me. “The pakhan is retired.”

Grigori nodded solemnly. “Alexei Mikhalov; age 23, height six foot two. He’s Ronan’s only child who succeeded him six months ago. He is known for his inflexibility and unforgiving disposition. Every attack on us has been under his months old administration.”

I watched as different pictures of the stuck-up looking prince slided through; one of him meeting the polish boss, one of him arriving at Chicago, one of him coming out of Fernando Cruz, the Mexican capo’s biggest club.

Things suddenly made a lot more sense. Ronan Mikhalov had been quiet for so long to suddenly start acting out. It was his son who was out for blood. The bastard had dealt a big blow to my biggest suppliers because they were stupid enough to do more than we agreed on with the polish.

That weakling Alesky had run to the younger Mikhalov for help and the pakhan had almost crippled the Mexicans with his move.

Regardless of how recent his succession was, he was not an easy opponent.

Grigori continued. “The new pakhan doesn’t share his father’s view of letting bygones be bygones hence his desire to seek retribution.”

“How badly are the Mexicans affected?” I asked, my finger tapping on the long conference table.

Grigori typed away on his laptop and a picture of a burned down building came up. “One of their major production houses was destroyed. The cartel’s capo wishes to join our fight as soon as he recovers from the loss.”

Of course he would, the young pakhan had caused him billions of dollars.

My eyes found Dominic. “How badly are we affected?”

Dominic rubbed at his jaw, “luckily for us, our meth shipment had already been sent out before the fire. Unfortunately, our cocaine supply was caught in the blaze.”

My fingers seized their tapping.

Che cazzo.

That was about 500 million dollars gone to the wind. Anger boiled beneath my skin as my eyes bored into the projected picture of Alexei Mikhalov. I wanted nothing but to waste a round of bullets into his body and let careful consideration be damned.

I turned to Grigori, my voice growing gravelly with my anger. “Keep close tabs on his movement and personal activities for now. I’ll pay Fernando a visit.”

I faced Dominic again, “any news of the polish boss?”

“Except gloating about and abusing the power his new ally provided him, he hasn’t taken any significant action.”

A sardonic smile tugged on my lips. I would crush the fucker when he least expected it, he had no idea what was coming for him. I would make an example out of him, use him as a cautionary tale for the rest of the small fries.

“We will have to deal with Alesky to send a message to the pakhan, one that’d stop him from being too bold with his activities.” I drawled.

Somebody needed to teach the baby pakhan that the affairs of the Costra Nostra weren’t to be messed with. Alexei Mikhalov was going to rethink his next decision where I was concerned. He will soon learn what it meant to mess around with Luca Salvatore.