Dmitry's Royal Flush: Rise of the Queen

by Nelson, Latrivia S.

"Where are you going to get the capital to pay for this?"

  "I have it."

  "So, why do you need me?"

  "Because they said that only established Vory are allowed. I'm not credible yet in those circles."

  "Nonsense. You are my son, you are boss… "

  "I am not even 30 years old, papa. They don't take me seriously when it comes to moving this type of product, but they will if you come with me."

  "Have you even considered that this could be a set up? If not, one word for you. Troika. 20 members led by Petrov were arrested in Majorca in one day. There are countless other ambushes. One incident was even aboard a yacht."

  "Papa, I've done my research. Sorrello gave me his contacts in Eastern Europe. I talked to a man in Georgia who is working with the government there but is employed by the US."

  "Sorrello is less than dependable. I was almost charged in Memphis because of his bumbling. I had to spend a fucking fortune."

  "Well, he's come through lately for me. There is no bust. However, there will be surveillance."

  "The predecessor of bust."

  "I have plan."

  Dmitry raised his brow.

  Anatoly took a deep breath. "There is minimal surveillance, and were not who they are after. Evidently, the liaison is high on some lists."

  "And you want to do business with him."

  "Yes. I had some people to ask around and these Spetsnaz are all trying to move the product ASAP. They've been stockpiling it for years. However, it became a little harder to do when Admiral Kurixdov retired. The last of their little operations unit retired last week after twenty years of service in the Russian Navy. This is part of their retirement plan—to sell off what they have been stealing for years. They want to move it fast and get it out of the location that it was in, because evidently without the security clearance of the last man, they can't get to it after next month."

  "I've never heard of an unpatriotic Spetsnaz. It's like oxymoron. You are too young to know this, but they were instrumental to Russia during the Cold War. These are true patriots to the country. It's like suggesting there is mole in CIA. And I know there are no moles in the CIA."

  "Well a few traitors exist, and they want to do business."

  Dmitry shook his head in disgust. Even he had some morals. "And the liaison?"

  "Bardzecki has vouched for him. He says the liaison is not a Vor, but he is most reliable."

  Dmitry was impressed. This was an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. However, what his son was asking could be treacherous to his already unstable marriage. If he went back and Royal found out, he would surely face a predicament.

  Legally Royal Stone was dead. She had taken the first name of her dead sister, Chloe and was a different woman than the one he married.

  If they were forced to divorce, there would be no telling how bitter things could get, especially with Anya added to the equation.

  On the other hand, if he did not go and oversee something as large as this deal, his son could get killed or arrested for not knowing what to do and when. The decision would be a hard one no matter what.

  He clasped his hands together and thought deeply and silently for a few minutes. Anatoly waited without moving in his chair. He had to have his fathers help. There was no way possible to do this without him.

  "What are you going to do about the surveillance again?" Dmitry finally asked with a furrowed brow.

  "Well be on yacht, far enough off coastline to be undetected. I know that it sounds simple, but all we have to do is change color of our hair."

  Dmitry looked up. "What?"

  "The Medlov's are known for our features. They identify us by our blonde hair and blue eyes. For tomorrow night only, we change the color of our hair, just for the cameras. The guy who is doing surveillance works for us."

  "I'm seven feet tall. How do you plan to hide that?"

  "There is no active investigation. The pictures will be stored, improperly labeled—not used. People will automatically assume that you are… "

  Dmitry finished his son's statement. "Ivan."

  "Exactly and they'll think it's old footage. I've been assured of it."

  Dmitry shook his head. "It's not that I don't trust you, but before I do this, I'm going to have my men check on this."

  "I understand, but if you check it out and it's legit, will you do this for me, father?"

  Dmitry shook his head. "Yes."

  Chapter 5

  Upset earlier by Victoria and Dmitry, Royal had taken a valium and crawled into bed before sundown, missing her appointment at the shop and refusing dinner.

  Now, in the still darkness of the night, behind the cloak of her heavily covered canopy bed, she flinched through another nightmare, clawing the sheets, sweating and moaning.

  Screaming aloud, she popped up shaking and curled her knees up to her chest. Tonight was a different dream. Not about just one but also the other. Without feeling for Dmitry in the large bed, she knew he was not there, but she had to find him.

  Jumping out of bed, she slipped on her slippers and bolted out of her door. She ran straight down the long carpeted hall to Anatoly's room and burst through the doors.

  Anatoly immediately sat up in the bed, bare-chested and startled. The glimmer of his shiny Glock reflected in the moonlight.

  "What's wrong?" he asked, throwing the cover from his legs. Now he wished he had listened to his father and locked the damned door, but he was waiting on Brigitte, who was still at the hospital with her sick mother.

  "Where's Dmitry?" she looked around the room.

  "Not here," Anatoly said curtly. "Probably in one of the guest bedrooms." He wiped his eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked again.

  "I need to talk to him," she said absently.

  Anatoly rolled his eyes. He stood and up and stretched. "Can we talk for a minute?"

  "Not now… "

  "Yes, now." Anatoly walked up to her and closed the doors behind them.

  "Anatoly, did you not hear what I said? I need to talk to your father."

  "I heard you," he said in a huff. "And I just said that I need to talk to you."

  "Make it quick," Royal said unmoved.

  "What's going on with you, huh? You're like… like crazy woman, running around here mad as hell." He circled around her.

  "I don't know what you're talking about." She folded her arms.

  "Oh, you don't? I don't recall you being such a bitch before you got married to my father. In fact, you weren't like this a year ago. What the fuck is going on with you?"

  "I don't expect you to understand, Anatoly. And I don't owe you an explanation. What is going on with your father and me is my business."

  "It's everyone's business when affects as many people as it does."

  "How do our marital problems affect you? You live in Memphis, remember. You're only visiting."

  "And why did he leave?"

  "Because he didn't want to… "

  "He. Left. For. You." He pointed at her.

  "I know why he left." She flared her nostrils.

  "You know. I'm going to say this and then I leave alone," he ran his hands through his hair. His broken English worsened as he became more agitated. "You used to be someone totally different, someone more for him than anyone else. Now, you're into titles, money and this proper fake-ass lifestyle instead of being the mother and wife he sacrificed for. If you ask me, he got raw end of deal with you."

  "Sacrifice?" She prepared to defend.

  "Don't give me your same old Ivan-fucked-me routine."

  Royal slapped him hard in his face. Tears dropped from her eyes as she did.

  His voice was lower now. He moved closer to her. "You don't think he's made sacrifices too? Whether you like it or not, he doesn't owe you anything. He just chooses to give it to you, but you know, if I really look at it, you owe him everything."

  "Then it's a good thing that your view doesn't count," she said angrily. "You men are all the same. Shake it off. Move on. What if
it were your mother, Anatoly? Or a woman you really loved? It's not that easy to get over, even when you try your best. And my best may not be up to your standards, oh great and powerful fucking mob boss, but it's mine. And when your father, my husband feels the need to address it, then it will be addressed with him—not his son."

  Anatoly was silent.

  Royal rolled her eyes but did not move. She was not the least bit intimidated by him. And after all that she had gone through, Anatoly knew it.

  "If you love him… "

  "I do love him."

  "Then maybe you should drop the act."

  "Let this be the last time that you ever feel comfortable discussing my marriage with me."

  "Yes, Mistress," he said condescendingly as she slammed the door behind her.

  Walking fast, she headed down the long corridor, opening the doors to the many bedrooms as she went. She checked Anya's room, Davyd's room, five guest rooms, and finally she came upon the last guest room at the end of the hall.

  As she opened the large, embellished wood doors, it creaked. Under the moonlight, shining in from the large windows, she saw Dmitry lying in bed asleep.

  Quietly, she closed the doors behind her and walked slowly over to him. He lay naked on his back with his hands planted behind the pillow. His muscles bulged from his colossal biceps, rippled down through his long, carved torso into his concrete abs that showed his vascular curves at his hips. The hair on his legs was dark and thick and covered the nearly five feet of length from his hip to his ankle. She was still amazed by his graceful temple, engulfed by his beauty.

  Crawling into the bed beside him, she could not help but let her eyes linger down to his manhood snaked over the side of his thigh.

  It had been so long since she had felt him inside of her, so long since she felt like a real woman. The thought made her cringe, and she paused in her anxiety for a moment as she remembered how alive she used to be.

  As she turned to tap his chest and wake him, she found Dmitry staring at her. His eyes sparkled like polished diamonds in the night. Barely blinking, he pulled his hand from behind the pillow and placed his gun beside her on the nightstand.

  "What's wrong, baby?" he asked, rubbing her back. "Another nightmare?"

  Her voice whispered out. "Yes… " she cleared her throat. Butterflies erupted instantly. It baffled her how such a thing could happen so many years into their relationship. He still made her feel like a school girl.

  "Are you afraid? Here, come and lay beside me. You're shaking."

  "It wasn't about Ivan—not exactly," she said quickly. "It was more about you."

  "Me? My love, I'm fine," he said finally, devouring her with a hungry, insatiable look. "But I could be better." He ran his hand down the side of her arm. Goose bumps formed. It made him smile. At least she still reacted somewhat to his touch.

  The look in her face was sheer agony. Dmitry could see it, even in the darkness. He pulled her closer to him and pushed her long, wild hair out of her face. She looked absolutely breathtaking, even in her frantic state. Her caramel skin glowed in the darkness. Her full lips were pouty and in desperate need to be kissed. The gown had fallen over to the side of her arm, revealing the round orb of her full breasts, and suddenly Dmitry could feel the heat rising inside of him.

  "I had a dream that Ivan killed you," she bit out. "He killed you, and he killed Anatoly in a lake. It was on fire." She tried to catch her breath. "He came out of the water, and he killed you both, and I had to watch. He… he was never dead, just waiting for the perfect time to strike."

  Dmitry sat up in the bed a little straighter. Royal was clever. She could have found a way to overhear his conversation with Anatoly earlier, but it was highly unlikely. And the look in her face warranted that of true concern and sincerity.

  He ran his hands through his golden locks and groaned. He didn't need this right now. He was hoping that she had come to make love to him, to ask him to make love to her—not to warn him of some strange portent.

  "Sweetheart, Ivan is dead," he pleaded, trying to reason with her. His voice was as soft and sympathetic as always.

  "I know that," Royal snapped. "But it felt real. It felt… "

  "No," Dmitry snapped back. His temper reared its ugly head. "Enough of this! Ostanovit. He's dead, and he's not coming back!"

  "I know," Royal said with tears in her eyes. "I just… "

  "I have had enough," Dmitry's voice raised. "I want you to stop this. I can't take it anymore."

  Royal shook her head. Tears ran down her cheeks. "If you would just listen for a damned minute!"

  Dmitry got up from the bed and snatched his jogging pants. Slipping them on, he turned on the lamp and walked around to face her.

  She looked at him concerned and wide-eyed, clueless to his sudden anger due to his excruciating sexual frustration.

  He gritted his teeth. "I have a meeting tomorrow. My helicopter will pick me up first thing in the morning. When I get back… "

  "Is it on a lake?" she interrupted.

  "Listen to me, zhenshchina," he said sternly. "When I get back, you and I are going to go back to therapy. You aren't getting better. You're getting worse and I can't… "

  "I'm not getting worse," she protested. "I came in here to tell you that you must be in some sort of danger… "

  Dmitry talked over her. "You're getting worse and paranoid. I want this to stop. I'm calling the doctor and… "

  "You're not listening to me!" she protested again, trying to push past him.

  Dmitry blocked her. "Listen to me!" He grabbed her and shook her. "I want my wife back, damn it." He pushed her body against the bed. She fell over on the mattress.

  "I haven't gone anywhere," she said crying. "Take your fucking hands off of me, Dmitry!" She tried to wheedle away. "I… I hate you!" she cried. "I came in here to tell you that you're in danger. I came in here to warn you, but you won't listen to me!" She kicked her feet.

  "I have been listening to you! Every night for three years, I've been listening. And it's always about Ivan. It's like you mourn him. I can't stand it. I hate it almost as much as you hate me and Anya," he growled as he leaned in between her thighs.

  Royal gasped as he held her down. She stared him in his eyes. He was only a hair away from her face. She could feel his hot chest against her body. "I don't hate my baby?" she cried. "I love Anya. She's all I've got in the world."

  Dmitry was in shock. He let her go and backed away. She lay on the bed with her legs wide open, gown pulled up to her waist and visibly shaken. The sight made him instantly think of the rape. He was sure it had made her think of it as well, but her words were what destroyed him.

  "After all that I have given you, you think that all you have in this world is Anya?" he asked in sheer disbelief.

  She sat up in the bed. Wiping the tears from her face, she pulled her gown strap up and sniffled.

  "I know that you don't love me, Dmitry. I'm just a burden that you have to bare, because I have nowhere else to go." Her bottom lip quivered. "That's why you brought Victoria here. To replace me, at least on some levels."

  "Victoria? Fuck her. She's just a teacher. She's here to teach Anya. I don't give two shits about her!"

  "Then why do you look at her like you do?"

  "Like what?"

  "Like you used to look at me," She cried. "Like before Ivan."

  "I barely see her. I don't have time to look at her."

  "You'll find time, won't you? You brought her here to take your mind of what I am."

  "Did I?" He shook his head. "Just what the hell are you, Royal?"

  Royal looked down at her shaking fingers and swallowed hard. Well, she had told Anatoly that when Dmitry brought it to her attention, she would deal with it. It was evidently time now.

  "I am a drunk, addicted, crazy bitch that you accidently knocked up and was forced to marry because otherwise someone would kill me, even though you couldn't possibly want me anymore after your brother fucked me like a tw
o-dollar whore in every God-given orifice I had, after he had broken my nose, cut me, beat me, stabbed me, sodomized me," she shook and cried. "How could anyone ever want me again? Especially his own brother, his own blood? You'd have to be insane to want me."

  The breath caught in Dmitry's lungs. Sweat formed on his forehead. To hear her say those words was the purest form of torture. He exhaled finally, breathed out and deflated into a near nothingness. "Is that what you've thought? This whole time since we've come to Prague, you've thought that I saw you as damaged goods."

  "I know you do. You buy me all this stuff to keep my occupied and away from you. Royal go to shop. Royal go to city. Royal find something to do," she mocked him.

  "I know the kind of woman you are. You are independent. You like to keep busy. I thought I was helping." His voice had lost its fury. He talked nearly in a whisper now.

  "I know you detest the way that I look, but I try my best to cover it," she touched the scar on her neck. "I know that you must think about what he did every time that you touch me." She looked down. "Even now, just to be close to me is so… repulsive. And it's okay. I understand." She wiped the tears from her face. "Because I repulse my damned self. I can barely look in the mirror anymore. I can barely stand to be in my own skin. That's why I take pills. The more I sleep, the higher I am, the less I have to deal."

  "Royal, no… " Dmitry said in a whisper. "But why all of sudden in the last year have things gotten so bad? Why haven't they been this bad the whole time?"

  Royal tried to smile. "My little Anya really is beautiful. She's the most," she wiped tears from her cheeks. "She's the most beautiful girl that I've ever seen in my entire life, but you know, I just kept waiting for her to change –to look more like her daddy or even me. At her last birthday party, I realized that she'll always look like him. Shell always remind me, Dmitry."

  "And that set you off."

  "That and a hundred other things. Seeing the scars every time I take off my clothes. And you know just about six months ago my foster mother passed away. I read the newspaper there online every day. She was listed in the obituaries."

  Dmitry sighed. He didn't know.

  "I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye."