ACT 1

DUTIES

"information may inform the mind, but revelation will set the heart on fire,"
-Matt Redman

Dakota Marie Jukic took another anxious sip of relief, the problems of her world only demuring as she felt the cold, lucid liquid now slowly sipped through and down her throat as with that slowly washed away her problems.

The bright sunstone locks now tied back into a loose ponytail, her chocolate eyes scanned the tiny battalions of alcohol bottles lines up perfectly behind the counter. Checking her Cartier watch lined with diamonds she laments and pushes the empty glass cut cup back as she takes out a Canadian five hundred she calls out to the bartender, "Keep the change," she saunters out.

Walking along the black carpet jarring yet complimenting with the red marble floors she makes her way to the lounge as before a word leaves her mouth her eyes had finally caught up with her brain at the sight in front of her.

"Mum?!" her voice echoes across the room, "Wha-, who is this?!"

The older carbon copy of the young female dressed in a Yves Saint Laurent jumpsuit only sighs and gives a warm smile, "Dakota, I want you to meet your father,"

It was a deadly silence that followed that last statement, Dakota's heart was pacing, wanting to lunge out of her chest. The drenched-in designer teenager hesitantly-, shakingly took cautious steps closer to her mother.

Dakota's mother was a strong, independent self-made billionaire. She had been brought up in at first rough environment, a mother juggling supporting a child she bared at a young unexpected age whose father was unknown and trying to land any successful job to fit her subdued resume. But Eliza Jukic didn't give up, she landed a job on a small television show as a presenter, then catching attention for her personality she went on to become the most successful talk show host in America earning her first billion within two years, then becoming an influential woman figure of society earning billions yearly from her successful books to girl's clothing store that promoted girl's independence.

Then sending her child to the renowned Wentworth Academy in New York, befriended then hierarchical queen Verena von Huxley and close companion. Dakota wasn't short of any less, she was a philanthropist queen starting multiple campaigns, turned out to the world that she had likes people of the opposite sex and showed no insecurity at all.

But now Dakota had finally looked at the man who was missing all her life, the man that wasn't there play with her, teach her to ride a bike, read her stories at night or let her sit on his soldiers when there were crowds. No. He was simply not there, and the audacity that after some false scandal and now being upfronted that this man was her long lost father.

She assessed the man's look, with a strong looking face, a big build yet not bulky but having an aristocratic ambience radiating off him, and platinum blonde hair with few grey hairs camouflaging within.

---

Through the jade eyes and the help of her gold-framed glasses, Talia scanned the text as she answered the question writing notes along with the gold and white Cordell lamp shade irradiating her books. In a white shirt and La Perla silk pants, she sighed untieing her bun as she let her ebony locks roll down her shoulders as she grabbed her robe and let her skin slip through the fluffy robe.

"Sleep, bed," she yawned as her eyes made their way to her bed, walking dreamily.

Bzzzzzzz

"Ignore it," she mumbled.

Bzzzzzz.

"Hay Naku!* Who the bloody hell is calling me at this hour?!" She fumed indignantly stomping furiously at the device.

*Tagalog slang term for OMG pronounced as Hai Nah-Koo

When Cesar's ears met the phone, it was met with an aggressive chain of angry Tagalog words spat at him through the phone, too fast and too angry to be understood by. There was her talking Cantonese and Hokkien, and then there was her in her mother's native tongue.

"English or any other Anglo or European language would be appreciated greatly Talia," he said cautiously in English, "Actually don't speak to me in German when your angry, you're worse than my mother, and Russian you send off Mickey's* mum's vibes."

*Cesar's nickname on Mikhail unlike Talia's and his relative's traditional given nickname. It was a given friendship mockery name when they were twelve.

Rolling back her soldiers she flopped down on her bed and exhaled, rubbing her temple with her spare hand.

"I'm sorry, what is it," she mocked him in hoarded posh English accent.

"Don't mock the queen," he rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry Cesar but you know how I hate people who call me at this hour. I've got Econ tomorrow and were recounting that Daniel something's Behavioural economics theory. I don't understand why people are so immersed in such the theory that it won some noble prize," she nattered as she returned to her usual mixed Australian and Queen's accent, starring at the dark ceiling as she tossed her arm so it would barely let her fingers reach her eye mask.

"Thank you, and also that's quite rich coming from future Mrs Kadamskiynov. Isn't Mickey going to be a powerbroker or something along those lines until his dad steps down to whatever he is-, what is he?"

Talia just rolled her eyes at her betrothed's childhood friend, ever since she was announced her engagement to the powerful heir at a young age she was known as Mrs Kadamskiynov. Not Talia Padilla-Hu, or Watson Hu's shining grandaughter, nor just herself. No. Her identity was Mikhail's beautiful bride, and no one dared to think of crossing her or they would feel the full wrath of the Kadamskiynov's. The dynasty that pulled the golden threads of the economic and political world literally, with many rumours that spilled into legends.

"I don't even know what they do anymore honestly. As far as I know that they're that rich they don't even need to own some bloody company or family business. And a powerbroker is some st*pid title in the political and econ terms for someone who sways econ and political world. Either way, he's gonna earn a lot of money whatever he's gonna do in the economic world, which is st*pid cause they are practically money itself," she snorted at the statement.

"Well thank you for reminding me about stuff I didn't ask to hear but thank you, Tala, thank you," he teased.

"So what was so important you had called me for forgetting that there is a five-hour difference between Toronto and England?" she asked.

"Well, you know how I was supposed to meet up with Maxim about his wife's forty-something anniversary gift?"

"No, I don't know- wait wasn't that supposed to be tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I realise that. So anyways in the elevator, this girl walked dressed so tactless, practically soaked in designer head to toe and Gucci with Tiffany-,"

"I swear on Sushi if you snogged her I'm going to jump out of my window," she snubbed.

"NO! I mean, ahem, no. You know my standard. Jewellery, physique, title or flirt skill, European or Asian model" he accumulated.

"flirt skill?!" she laughed.

"What?! I pay attention, I have standards-,"

"Hurry up, before Ms Sprite burns the door down along with me," she chastised.

"Alright, alright. Anywho she turned out to be that American hotshot daughter, billionaire girl Dakota JuJu or something?"

"Jukic, but go on," she corrected.

"Yeah that. I was tortured by her complaints. Mum was right about never having an American girlfriend, no good complaining-,"

"Don't be like that. Some are actually sophisticated... I think. All those ones who come from the old guard families in the Uk who settled in the USA in the eighteen hundreds. And most of the tech giant kids are well civil," Talia intervened.

"And so Fastrack latter, I was getting change and when I came out of the washroom it was Maxim and some woman. I thought it was just some other meeting thingy but they kissed. They kissed Talia. Like wtf?!" he started to rant as Talia hasn't said anything, "And then the same girl came out from the elevator and said 'Mum'. And then it turned out that was her dad the whole time-. TALIA!" he yelled as another silence followed.

"Ceasar. Stop making up such sh*t up," Talia sighed.

"Talia, I swear on my love for Blackpink. Not Jennie, not Rose, Lisa or Jisoo. I mean all of them!" he frantically exclaimed, "Talia-"

"Cesar," she but him off in a calm and collected tone sending shivers scrapping at the bottom of his spine as it slowly clawed up his back.

"Y-yes?" he responded tensely.

"You realise if this is true, that alone Mikhail will split the world in half," she shouted whispered. "Not only that Mikhail's Dedu is going to disown him and bequeath the true will of the family will skip to Mikhail once he dies," as Talia moved to her walk-in closet, sitting in the corner as her back leaned against the mirror.

"Yes, I realise what's at stake here Tala. I know my friend too."

"Do you Cesar?! We're talking about a planned marriage and Maxim running off and impregnating another woman whose daughter so happens to be none other than an American hotshot," as Talia continues to research further about Dakota and her mother.

"Dakota has always asked me when she was younger and still wonders who her father was," she read the article. "Cesar what happens if this chic walks up to the doorstep of one of the manors and says 'hey guys, guess what I'm the illegitimate daughter of the world's most powerful man! Literally!" she mocked a high pitched voice.

"I don't want to even know Mickey's reaction. Oh god, his poor mother. She's so nice, she doesn't deserve this. I mean I know it was arranged but she's been so faithful. It's like if Mikhail went behind your back, I would sh*t platinum bricks." He expressed, "But I mean then again if she does come all she's going to do is run back to her petty life. She's no threat to us. Not even her wh0rey and inbred friends combined are no match to none of us alone."

"Cesar I understand that but the family's reputation will degrade and may I remind you that your family along with many others are in debt to them," she seethed with a lace panic that wasn't detected. "It's going to make a mockery out of them if this disgrace gets out. Not only that but the media will be hot on our tails as well. Do you want that to happen, Cesar?!" Cesar felt slapped as he felt the chilling aura of Talia's authority oozing from the phone, which only resulted in a strong shot of trepidation in him. His family has reigned too long to be brought down.

God the woman was scary as f*ck Cesar gulped, he couldn't dare say another word. London Bridge is falling down, falling down. I will not get back up, get back up. My fair lady. He sang in his head.

She was starting to lose her cool. If Mikhail's was made a mockery they would come in with battalions of tsunamis to remould their pedestal. It would be a long-reigning WW3 that would drag the world's economic and political system till they saw fit. Talia being caught up in the whole debacle as she stood next to the throne that Mikhail would be on. She could feel the numbing pain growing in the palm of her hands, as she pictured a handsome demonic Mikhail sitting on his throne with his vision of a world set on fire and the families crawling to the steps of the platform.

"You've got till Mikhail's easter to fix this and give me information Cesar or else we all go down in flames. Otherwise, I will introduce you to why I named my dog Cerberus after the dogs of hell and why you're going to wish your mother had the slightest chance of making you a girl."

---

With Milan's spring running in, it had seemed that as it drew near to the end of march quite soon the mother nature had seemed to play with its toy and shift the predicted warm day into a cold one.

The regal black canine lounging obediently on the given fringe cushion of velvet, quietly observing his mistresses' partner on a platform with his long arms spread out as two seamstresses precariously worked their magic.

The outrageously bronzed old man tilted his head, with his index finger on his chin as he observed the male looking regal in the dim light from the clouds jump and radiate its light onto him. Along with many of the few high-end Haute Couture fashion designers they had never seen such a blindingly sauve male that could slip into any suit or design and make it look like it was purposely made for the runway. But too much to their dismay, it was simply a pity that this handsome bloke was meant to be hidden from the world.

"Mikhail, you look simply magnolious in it! Splendido! Bello!" One of the few privileged seamstresses who could ever lay eyes on him eulogized as the other one nodded.

"You two are the true heroes and Valentino. You are too kind. You didn't have to make a new coat for me," he civilly replied expecting the sleeves, as he stepped off the platform.

"Nonsense," the designer jovially replied, "Talia and Gianna are my favourite clients and you. Of course, I can cancel a million appointments if it means so."

"Fashion week was just over, and I didn't want to bother anyone Viktor nor Rolf could make a trip to Milan and I wouldn't over pick any other Italian designer over you. So when I heard you were less busy than anyone I thought I might as well give a call. I didn't want to re-wear something this easter. Talia is turning of age so I thought I step it up a bit," he informed as he inspected himself in the full-length mirrors that captured any angle possible.

The oversized fur collars that streamed just below his waist had captured the cold moths of Russia beautifully, with the royal dark red fabric handmade and carefully selected was brilliantly cut. The golden woven patterns that mimicked the Russian easter patterns perfectly, along with the obsidian silk of the inside of the coat had all pieced it together tremendously.

"The hem is done beautifully, I don't how you work your magic Viola," he praised.

"Oh, stop it, Mikhail! I do this all the time, nothing new," she waved off.

"Cerberus," Mikhail called as the dog perked its head up, "What do you think?"

The canine only gave a short bark of approval as the four laughed. "Well, if that is all I have to make it up to some of the clients that I cancelled and pushed back." As he quick kisses on Mikhail's cheek along with the ladies.

"Ciao!"

"Mikhail, how about we guide you to some of next season's coats, and next season's everything. Some are almost done, would you like to take a look for Talia?" she suggested.

Mikhail chuckled, "My Talia as much as I insist doesn't like gifts or random gifts as much I try," he said in a honeyed tone. "As much as I insist she simply dreads even though she acts so thankful."

"Talia is so beautiful both inside and out," one of the chirped as she put back the extra thread in the bin. "Your very lucky."

"I am," he smiled proudly.

"Where are you off too?"

"A cafe I've wanting to go to, I'm visiting an acquaintance." He replied as he let the coat slip off with the help of the two women as he popped on his navy insulated coat.

---

Mikhail had parked his Icona Vulcano Titanium as he opened the door for Cerberus elegantly jumping down as the dog was attached to a leash. Walking along the nostalgic warm-toned pebble path as he let the canine guide him.

Looking at the sign hanging on a piece of wood, with the cafe's name embroidered in gold. Vines trickled down the brick walls, with three large tinted windows stretching from bottom to top. Entering the cafe's Mikhail felt the wave of coffee beans brewing dancing around as it left the thick trail of its aroma. Machines ticking rhythmically, as tables were set and on the left-hand side a counter -half decoratively set with jars of sweets and pastries and the register, whilst the rest left out for customers to eat.

"Salve! Mi chiamo Lorenzo," a voice chirped as Mikhail took off his sunglasses flamboyantly.

This was him. He had no presence was the first thing Mikhail analysed. Dark curly brown hair, simple light bronze skin tone, brown eyes, and he wasn't any taller than Gianna would be. To think when she would wear her towering heels made him baffle inside.

"Ciao," Mikhail replied in perfect Italian, "Mi chiamo Micheal*."

*Mikhail usually outside of Slavic countries used the name Micheal, the equivalent to his name in Russian. To avoid confusion and mispronunciation.

With Mikhail then replying to sit on the counter, guided to the far adjacent end and the black canine resting at his seat indulging in the new odours Mikhail skimmed the menu. On the other end, Lorenzo only stood beside his young sister as she trailed at the male.

"Stop gawking at our customer, you might scare him away," he chided indignantly.

"Who the hell is the hotty there?!" She whispered as she wiped the coffee machine's group head. "Is he some kinda model! My god, can you slip him my number when he orders?!"

"No! You dimwit. This our customer! And he looks like he's some twenty-year-old." He argued.

"He doesn't look Italian-, ooohhh maybe he's some hot frenchie model or those counts. Or a British dukes on Teli with that Queen."

"He doesn't French, he's too pale,"

"Frenchs can be pale,"

"He doesn't look British, has some deep another European vibe. German?" he proposed.

"Russian," as the two turned at the male who hadn't left his eyes off the menu. "I'm Russian, and I'm not twenty-something, I'm nineteen. I have a girlfriend, oh and I'll have black tea with that pastry on the far on the end."

The two siblings seemed to be completely taken back. "Of course!" Lorenzo said.

With a delicate plate of pastries and a teapot and cup. Mikhail looking up he began his little act.

"Oh wait," he chuckled clicking his fingers, "I know you. Um-, somewhere. Your Lorenzo, that Lorenzo Corsellini. Your Gianna's friend- I mean boyfriend."

Lorenzo blinked. As in his girlfriend? "Yeah... you know Gianna?"

"Yes, me and her grew up together. Along with my girlfriend, they're very good friends. Wow, I'm so sorry I didn't recognise you sooner. I've seen some pictures of you, and my girlfriend told me some bits about you," he got up as he shook his hand.

"Well, it's nice to meet you too," he chuckled. Who the hell is this guy?! Gianna is a goddess but him-. Who is he? What type of family do this guy and Gianna come from.

"Wow, what a coincidence," he sat back down, as he poured his tea.

"So, you said you've known her for a long time," he asked.

"Yeah," Great! His initiating first.

"Yes, in a way our families are close. We grew up together, along with a few others." He informed.

A few others?!

Lorenzo leaned against the counter, as he looked around. Should he be doing this? "Look, Mikhail. Me and Gianna have been dating for a while, and the thing is I know absolutely nothing about her. What she likes yes, but I know nothing about her family or you even. She hasn't even introduced me to her family. Look, I really like her. But I need you to be honest with me-," he sighed.

"Are they like, rich or something?"

Mikhail ticked inside. He had the audacity to ask about someone's wealth. These in-mannered middle-class people something ticked him.

"I wouldn't say rich," Mikhail chuckled putting on his charisma. "They're successful, yes. They're like investors is the best way I can think of. They invest and they give back and stuff like that, more of trading. I can see where you're coming from now. You're overthinking it. Gianna's parents just want to see her happy, someone equal with her. She's a very intelligent girl and they want her to have a successful career. She's probably just worried or nervous to find the right time-, and she's juggling school and getting into a top tier college."

A wicked smile formed into his eyes unknown to Lorenzo. The first piece moved, he was setting the trap.

Lorenzo couldn't help but feel guilt. No wonder she would never mention it, nor her friends or her private life. As she was trying to juggle a long-distance relationship she battling being an all-rounded child. And she probably was shop-stressing, it all made sense to him.

Mikhail gently sliced another half of the pastry as he popped it into his mouth as he daintily sipped from the tea cup.

"Look, Lorenzo. I can see she's really interested in you. I don't want you to end up like her many other relationships," as he feigned a look as if he wasn't meant to say it. Of course, he meant it.

"Other relationships?"

"Oh. I'm sorry I wasn't supposed to say that. Really. Boyfriend, to boyfriend I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"No, please. Please tell me. I rather know, honest."

"Look. Don't take it too personally. But if you want me to be honest. Yes, she's had one. Or two. fifty-,"

"Fifty?!"

"Or more. And then she went into this terrible phase last year," he sighed. "She started to hook up a lot. Had this sl#t phase, look. But I can see she's healed and I know why." He gestured to him.

"And not only that, but I'm sure she's a little scared now you know. Very sensitive. Like an overdose hormonal Romeo, never when she's going to move on-. I mean, of course, I'm sure your the one," he smiled. Perfect. Getting up he slid a thirty towards him. "Keep the change, you know maybe future-friends-in-law or whatever you call it. You make good pastries."

Walking towards the door, with Cerberus in hand.

"See you guys," he sent a dashing wink.

_______________

VOTE & COMMENT
I'm back!
Nice long chapter for ya'll!

VOTE AND COMMENT!

______________