Saving Anya

by Nelson, Latrivia

  Davyd chuckled as he fixed his plate, when the baby monitor sitting in between Dmitry and Royal made a noise. Evidently one of the twins rolled over and cried in their sleep. Immediately, both Royal and Dmitry froze in place, scared to death that the few minutes of peace that they thought they had had been stolen from them.

  “Please go back to sleep,” Royal begged as she put down her cup of coffee.

  Dmitry looked at the monitor with a raised brow, waiting for the now familiar long, cry of one of his boys but was let off the hook when they just went back to sleep.

  “Thank God,” Royal said, releasing the tension in her shoulders.

  “I’ve never seen two people so afraid of babies,” Davyd said, sitting down beside Anya. “Good morning, princess.”

  “Good morning, Davyd,” Anya said with a little pout.

  “And what’s the matter with you?” he asked with a thick Russian accent. He doted over her as much as her father did and was just as blind to her games.

  “They won’t let me stay home today,” she tattled in a whisper as she looked over at her parents.

  He looked at the couple too. “Well, I’m sure that the boys will be here when you get home,” Davyd whispered back and winked his eye. He looked over Anya at Dmitry. “Do you need anything from town while I’m out this morning?”

  “No,” Dmitry said gruffly. “All I need is a little rest.”

  “Well, Marta will be here in about an hour,” Davyd said, looking at his watch.

  “Forty-five minutes,” Dmitry corrected. “And I plan to sleep for at least eight hours once she gets here.”

  Royal smirked. “You’re the one who wanted more children.”

  “Maybe we’ll wait until these can take care of the others before we start up again,” Dmitry answered.

  “Others? Dmitry, I don’t plan to have any more of your children,” Royal joked. “This shop is currently shut down for business.” She motioned towards her still plump belly.

  “We’ve heard that before,” Davyd said with a chuckle.

  “She knows that she can’t resist my charm,” Dmitry said to Davyd, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “What woman in her right mind could resist a Russian?”

  “Haven’t run into one yet,” Davyd added.

  Playfully, Royal pulled away from him. “Your charms have the both of us sleep deprived and me in need of a tummy tuck.”

  Anya watched the interaction between her mother and father and laughed too. Turning back to her nearly finished breakfast, she had a curious thought.

  “Uncle Davyd, why don’t you have kids?” she asked suddenly.

  Davyd cleared his throat and looked over at Dmitry again. Kids ask the craziest questions, he thought to himself. “Well, because I’m not married,” he finally said when he realized Anya was waiting for a response. He knew that while the Medlov family was not normal, Dmitry believed dearly in conservative views regarding his children.

  “Why aren’t you married?” she asked as a follow-up.

  Dmitry stuffed the bacon in his mouth and cracked a devious smile. “Because he’s a playboy,” he answered to let Davyd off the hook. He knew that his daughter was far too young to understand their code. Davyd was an old-school Vor, a man of the Thieves-in-Law and he was married to it and it only. He would never marry or have children, even though he had had many opportunities over the years.

  “You mean you’re a playboy like Anatoly?” Anya asked with a grin. “He has had a million girlfriends, and he has a problem with commitment.” She had no idea what it meant, but she liked the idea that she had remembered what was said about her brother.

  “Anya, where did you hear that Anatoly was a playboy?” Royal asked concerned.

  “I heard the maid, Clarisse, tell the other maid, Loni, that he was a playboy just the other day,” Anya answered honestly. “What does he like to play? Hide and go seek?”

  Dmitry couldn’t help himself although he could see that Royal was turning red. He laughed aloud and hit the table. So did Davyd, but he muffled his laugh in his hand.

  “Priceless,” Dmitry finally chuckled.

  Royal cut her eyes at her husband and corrected her daughter. “Your brother is just young. He’s in a committed relationship with the nice woman you met, Renee. A playboy means that he can’t commit, or can’t love one person. But he does. It just took him a long time to find someone to love…just like daddy.”

  “I doubt if she even remembers Renee,” Dmitry said, wiping his face with his napkin. He could always count on Anya to cheer him up, and he could always count on Royal to get too serious.

  “I remember her, Daddy. She is the pretty black woman that Ana always brings on family trips with him now,” Anya said, proud that she remembered.

  Dmitry raised his brow. “Well, she does remember,” he said impressed.

  Royal, however, was focused on another aspect of the conversation. “Who told you that she was black?”

  “We learned about race at school last week,” Anya answered. “Isn’t she black, Mommy?”

  Royal nodded. “She’s African-American, just like me, just like you.”

  “Anya Medlov is half African-American,” Dmitry corrected. “Don’t forget my half of the equation. Not that I mind the African-American part of her. I’m quite proud of both, but it’s important to acknowledge all of her heritage.”

  “Well, the point is that I’m not ready to discuss race yet, and I don’t think that the children should be taught race until the parents give permission,” Royal said in a more serious tone. “What if their views don’t match ours? Then we have to re-teach them? That’s ridiculous. That’s not what we pay them for. I want her to learn to read and write before she has to learn about race.”

  “Well, she has to learn at some point,” Dmitry said absently.

  “I know that,” Royal said in a huff. “Oh, never mind.” She looked at Anya, who was now confused. “This doesn’t concern you, baby. You’re right. Renee is African-American or black. It’s the same thing, but some people prefer one term over the other. I prefer African-American for reasons I’ll explain to you later.”

  “Now you’re just speaking over her head,” Dmitry interrupted.

  Royal rolled her eyes. “Well, I wouldn’t have to have this discussion at seven in the morning if the fifteen-thousand-dollar per quarter kinder academy we pay for had not broached the subject without my permission,” she defended.

  “Ahh, you’re both just exhausted. Why don’t you go and get some rest and you can talk to each other about this later. You’ll still be African-American, and he’ll still be Russian,” Davyd said, finishing his breakfast.

  “Amen,” Dmitry said, pushing back from the table. He raised his arms and waved at his daughter. “Anya, come and give your papa a kiss before you’re off to school.”

  Anya did as her father said and got up from the table and walked over to kiss his cheek. He picked her up in his large arms and held her tight to him, nuzzling his nose in her hair. “I love you,” he said, putting her back down on the ground. “Just as you are.” He looked into Anya’s blue eyes and rubbed a hand across her jet-black bangs.

  “I love you too, Daddy,” she said with a smile. Dimples exploded in both of her rosy cheeks.

  Dmitry couldn’t help but kiss her again.

  How could anyone not love a face like that? He thought to himself, and in the same thought, he again reminded himself of how lucky he was.

  Shifting attention, Anya quickly snuggled into her mother’s arms. Royal held her close, kissed her quickly on both cheeks and wiped the bread crumbs from the sides of her pouty mouth. “Have a great day at school. And as soon as you come home, you can feed Maxim. Promise.”

  Anya couldn’t help but light up. “Thank you, Mommy. I love you.”

  Royal giggled. “I love you too, munchkin.” It was amazing how that little girl knew how to light her up even in her deepest of thoughts.

  Getting up from the table, Dmitry and Royal le
ft Anya with Davyd and headed back upstairs hand-in-hand. It was a normal ritual to spend time with the little princess at the kitchen table like a normal family before she was escorted to school.

  Dmitry felt like it gave Anya a true understanding of how important family was, and it put things into perspective on a daily basis for him. No matter how tired he was, if he was in the city then he was here with the women in his life. And after Anya had had a hearty breakfast and been allowed a little early morning chatter, he and Royal would finally make their way to the bedroom to get some much deserved sleep.

  “I can’t wait to feel that pillow under my head,” Royal said, walking slowly up the stairs.

  Dmitry snickered. “Don’t tell me that those little babies are already wearing you out.” He looked down at her and winked.

  Royal rolled her eyes. “You don’t look so spry yourself, big boy.”

  Dmitry yawned involuntarily. “I have an excuse.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?” she asked.

  “Well, I’m much older than you.”

  “As long as Hugh Hefner is alive, then you don’t have an excuse. Besides, you’re the one who wanted a huge family. Remember? Be careful what you ask for, old man.” Running her hand over the stitches on her lower abdomen, she clenched her jaw and tried to hide the stabbing reminder of her recent surgery.

  Anya had been a vaginal birth. This was her first C-section, and the nagging pain was incredibly uncomfortable. However, because of her prior issue with pain pills, she preferred to deal with the pain as naturally as possible.

  Dmitry noticed her discomfort and instantly became more serious. “Are you still hurting very much?” He stopped in his tracks and looked down into her warm, brown eyes.

  “It’s just these…weird sharp pains every once in a while. They hurt more during the morning when I first get up than any other time of the day.” She tried not to make a big deal out of it considering how Dmitry was. At the first sign of pain, he freaked out.

  “I hate that they had to cut you,” he lamented.

  “Well, I’ve been taking good care of the sutures. So, hopefully, you won’t even notice it in a few months.”

  Dmitry was shocked that she thought that he was concerned about the look of the scars. Screw the bloody scars. He was worried about her.

  Picking her up in his large arms, he scooped her up and held her close to him. He nuzzled his face in her hair and smelled her perfume. Royal didn’t fight his excessive babying today. Resting her head against his chest, she wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled. “It’s nice to know that you can still be romantic, even when I look like this,” she said, looking down at her pajamas that had a small stain from a feeding from the night before.

  His eyes twinkled with sincerity. “I sort of like this look,” he said, walking with her in his arms. The same dimple in Anya’s cheek showed in his as he smiled. “I’m going to run you a hot bath and wash your hair while the children are still sleeping. How does that sound?”

  “Like a dream,” she said with a hum.

  “Well, you deserve it,” he said as his foot hit the top step to the second floor.

  Royal looked behind them at how far he had carried her. Even after all these years, he was still so very strong, so full of life and full of passion. She craved that in him.

  Clenching tighter to his body, she nuzzled into his masculine scent and felt safe.

  Dmitry was a true alpha male in every aspect of the word. He was a provider, protector and a lover, as territorial as the lion in his jungle but as kind as a king at court.

  Plus, she always felt safe when she was buried near his musky, male throat, inhaling his virile scent and so close to his raging, resilient beating heart. Dmitry was one of those men who naturally drew in a woman, made her lose her mind and forget herself just to be near him. Between his larger than life height, his wide, strong size and his enchanting great looks, even if he had not been a billionaire crime boss, he still would have gone far in this world. Men like him always did.

  What really amazed her was how even after being married for over five years, how she felt as though she had just met him. The butterflies never ceased to erupt in her stomach when she woke beside him every morning, and he still made her inner woman purr when he whispered naughty words into her ear. Maybe it was his Russian accent or the minty scent always lingering on his tongue, but he could hypnotize her within minutes, place her under a mighty spell and then have his way with her.

  Quietly, Dmitry opened the door for them and carried her to their bed. Placing her gently down, he rubbed through her thick mane and watched her eyes lazily relax as she lay back on the soft pillows.

  She snuggled in, preparing for a deep long sleep.

  Ahh…he wasn’t sure which one of them was more relaxed at the moment. She seemed finally ready to rest, and he was just in a state of bliss, hard to explain but a very distinct feeling of joy.

  The simple life was finally starting to be everything Dmitry had hoped for. The kids were healthy and happy and the same was true for him and his wife.

  Plus, things were going well with Anatoly and what was left of the Medlov council back in the states; his businesses were thriving despite the recession, and he was still a billionaire with more wealth accumulating by the day.

  Honestly, he was not sure if he could ask for more. He was wealthy, healthy, the father of four amazing children and married to a young, beautiful woman who worshiped the ground that he walked on.

  Who could ask for more?

  That in itself was amazing considering he was born a gutter rat in Moscow to a drugged-out whore and a middle-aged crime boss, tossed in prison before eighteen and destined to be a total failure.

  The only family he was supposed to ever have was a sociopathic little brother and the Vor, but somehow, he had ended up with a hell of a lot more than anyone ever thought he would. Ask anyone, his late father included – no one thought he’d even live this long.

  Guys like him normally didn’t end up with such a good life, but Dmitry had managed to come out on top.

  So, why not treat his wife like a queen, dote on her, take care of her, and raise his children in peace? Considering how hard that he had worked to acquire this lifestyle, it would be a pity not to indulge himself in every aspect of being a family man.

  Chapter 2

  On schedule, Davyd and his assistant bodyguard, Yuri, walked Anya through the back corridor leading from the kitchen-area to the newly renovated garage. As they stepped into the large space, the motion detector recognized their movement and instantly lit up the room. Quickly, row-by-row, the fluorescent overhead lights snapped on all the way down ten perfect isles of luxury vehicles as the trio started their daily routine.

  The garage was more like a showroom than a shelter. Limestone floors sparkled under millions of dollars’ worth of the world’s finest engineering. Stainless steel cabinets lined up masterfully on a long wall leading length-ways down the room and held all the essential equipment to keep the cars going and another row of stainless-steel cabinets down the shorter wall, stored monitors, jacks and high-end machinery found only in the best luxury mechanic garages. In the far corner, blending in with the rest of the cabinets was a small arsenal of weapons and monitors that showed the perimeter of the house. The room was also as sterile as a doctor’s office and as modern as any museum. It was just another testament to Dmitry’s appreciation for all things high-end with each car telling a story from his past.

  However, this room had a completely different meaning for Anya. It was another playroom. She loved the way the lights flickered on for them automatically, and she loved that Davyd would let her pick which car she could ride to school in every morning. The choice was always hers and was made only after they entered the garage. And her choice was never the same.

  Anya didn’t know that it was just another security protocol set up by her entourage of bodyguards to ensure that no one knew exactly what vehicle she would be escorted in.
Davyd was always thorough that way. He constantly performed security checks and tried to ensure that his dear little Anya was safe, even without her knowing it.

  Anya still had a pout as she loaded into the back of the family Bentley and turned on her television to watch a new episode of her favorite cartoon on DVD.

  “Seat belt on,” Davyd ordered as he closed the passenger door and back at her.

  “Check,” Anya replied as she clicked her belt.

  The doors locked as the assistant bodyguard finished the preliminary check to make sure that no explosives had been attached to the car.

  The door to the garage opened quickly and bright light from the early

  morning sun shined onto the car as it pulled out and started its trek from the family farm to the city.

  Like clockwork, Davyd canvassed the area, looking for anything out of place on the farm, but all looked normal. The field workers walked alongside of their buggies or worked out on the land; the grounds crew worked on lawn and the guards stood post at the perimeter checkpoints.

  “Another day,” Davyd said to his driver.

  “No, not just any day. I’m going to ask Mila to marry me tonight,” the young man said with a proud grin.

  Anya grabbed her remote and discreetly turned down her television just a bit to listen to the adult conversation.

  “But you’re such a young man,” Davyd said, concerned. “What’s the rush? You knock her up?”

  “No,” the driver answered with a blush. “I love her. It’s been a year now. I can’t wait any longer.”

  Davyd raised his brow. The concept was lost on him. Sure, he loved the family he served; he loved the Vor; he loved his plush life, but as many women as he saw from time-to-time, he had loved none. He turned up his lip at a thought and then heaved a sigh. “Well, good luck to you then, boy.”

  “Thank you,” the man said, feeling fulfilled. “When we drop Ms. Anya off, I’ll show you the ring, da.”

  “Aye, I’d be interested in seeing what voluntary manslaughter looks like,” Davyd joked.