Dmitry's Royal Flush: Rise of the Queen

by Nelson, Latrivia S.

  "I'm sure she knew that you loved her."

  "And then there's me. Overall, I just feel like if I don't have my defenses up, if I'm not being a bitch at every moment, then someone will just take advantage of me again. It's hard to explain, but it's the truth." She shrugged her shoulders and spoke in a broken voice. "I'm all messed up, Dmitry. I'm not the same girl anymore. I… I don't know who I am."

  In the shadows of the dark room, Dmitry let the tears fall down his eyes. He wiped them quickly and grunted as he looked up the ceiling.

  While he wouldn't tell her, he had been waiting for the moment when she would let her guard down and tell him what was wrong for a year now. In fact, he had just told Anatoly earlier that day how heartbreaking the entire situation had been for him of late. But now, he wasn't sure if he was ready for the truth.

  How had he missed it? How had he not seen how badly she had been damaged? All of this time, he was focused on the way the she behaved, not looking deep enough to see how open the wound still was for her.

  His massive shoulders hung in defeat. He had failed her again. This time, he had done so miserably.

  "I have blamed myself for your rape for so long," he confessed. "After all, it was my brother, my blood, my sins that caused this." He took a deep breath. "I have wished so many times that things could have been different—better for you." His voice was deep, low and pained. "And worst of all, I thought that because of these things you didn't love me anymore," he smirked. "I actually thought I repulsed you."

  Royal was shaking now, covered in tears, quivering and alone. Somehow she thought it would feel better to confess her self-contempt, but now she only felt worse. And if it were possible, she felt even more ashamed.

  She avoided making eye contact, keeping her eyes on the ground. God only knew what he must think of her now that he knew she was a certifiable basket case.

  "I've always loved you, Dmitry. Don't be stupid," she said coldly.

  Walking over to the bed, Dmitry leaned in and scooped her up in his arms. He put her on his lap and cradled her, determined to keep the walls down that they had finally broken through tonight.

  "Look at me," he said, pulling at her chin. "Hey… look at me."

  She looked up nervously. He moved her long wild hair from her face and rubbed his fingers over her lips.

  "How? How do I get you to see, zhenshchina?" Dmitry asked, kissing her forehead as he held her in his arms. "You are the best part of me." He whispered husky baritone words in her ear. "Everything that is good in my life is good because of you. There is nothing more than you. There will never be anything more than you. What Ivan did to you doesn't make you any less of a woman; it made him less than a man. And you are still the most beautiful woman that I've ever seen in my life."

  "You don't have to say that, Dmitry," she said, still trembling.

  "It is truth, Royal. I have never stopped wanting you. I never stopped loving or desiring every part of you whether it is your best or worst day or day in between. I don't care. You are my wife. You have been my wife since first time I make love to you, way back when you were just young girl. Now, as a woman, I love you more. I need you more than I need to breathe."

  Royal looked up astonished at his words. Her mouth was open. Tears ran down her face on her neck and collarbone. "Do you really mean it, Dmitry?"

  "Baby, yes, I mean it." He wiped her tears. "All this time, I thought it was me. I thought you hated my guts."

  "It's never been you," Royal said, looking down. "I'm always so damned angry or so scared. I can't control how beside myself I get. Some days I just feel like I'm going to crack. I guess part of me just can't believe that he's dead. It's like he's going to just pop out of the closet or kick down the door when I least expect it. I mean I know that he's dead, but it doesn't feel like it when I dream about him every night. It's like I'm going crazy." She shook her head. "You don't know how badly I want it to go away. I don't want to feel dirty anymore," she cried.

  Dmitry listened quietly, berating himself for doing such a poor job of being her husband. He had stripped her from her friends, torn her from the reach of her country, and he had all but abandoned her here in this large mansion with no one to confide in knowing she had been diagnosed with rape-related PTSD.

  "I thought that you were going to leave me," Royal said softly. She looked up at him. "It's been bothering me since that woman came to my home. I don't know what I would do if you left me."

  "Royal, I don't want Victoria at all." He shook his head and put his forehead on hers. "I'm not going anywhere for a long, long time."

  Dmitry smiled. "All I want is you." He rubbed her cheek.

  Royal shook her head, tears still flowing. "I'll try to be better," she said sincerely. "But it's going to take time. There is something wrong with me, Dmitry."

  "Well get you some help, together. When I get back, I'll go with you. I'll sit through every session. I'll hold you every night until the nightmares go away. I'll do whatever it takes. I promise."

  Royal did not speak, but there was a visible burden lifting off her shoulders that showed in the brightness of her eyes. Dmitry noticed the change in her face, how the frown seemed to be not so permanent. Could it be that she had hope? He prayed that she did.

  Unable to control himself, he pulled her chin towards him and kissed her soft lips. She tasted like scotch, but he didn't care. Kissing her slowly with passion enough to make her feel faint, he ran his hands through her matted hair, down her neck to her soft, silky shoulders and stopped at the orbs of her warm breasts. Then he paused to see.

  For once, she didn't fight him or wince away. She pushed forward, towards his grasp. Eagerly, his fingers brushed against her nipples as he kissed her and he heard her throaty moan. The sound made him smile and erect. He felt himself growing, prodding against the satin of her gown. Without instruction, she wrapped her arms around his neck as he kissed her. Signs of improvement. He stopped and smiled at her. The long dimples in his cheek showed.

  "Hey," he said breathing heavily.

  "Hey," she said softly.

  They looked at each other.

  "I missed you," he said, clenching his jaw. The smile left. "I thought that I had lost you for good."

  "I thought the same," she whispered.

  He picked her up in his embrace and pulled back the thick layers of covers. Laying her down on the bed, he looked at her body and shook his head.

  "I was just getting on to Anatoly earlier about taking it slow. For once, I know how he feels."

  "Taking it slow with whom?"

  "Nobody." He stood beside the bed. "Hold on a minute. Let me… lock the door." He brushed his hands through his curly locks again and walked over to the door. After he locked it, he returned to her and crawled into the bed beside her.

  She watched him as he did. Her eyes were inquisitive. take her. arousal that she had not felt in nearly a year.

  Normally, he would have struck. He would have used the opportunity to make her fulfill all of his desires, but he knew how fragile she was. What he needed was his wife naked and open to all of his carnal needs that only seemed to multiply every time that he looked at her body in that satin gown. However, what she needed was someone to show her that everything would be For once, she almost wanted him to There was some strange spark of alright and not just for a night but for the rest of her life.

  He had to take it slow to prove to her that he could help bring her out of her deep depression. Also, he was certain that he didn't have the patience to be gentle at the very moment. It would be wisest to wait until he returned home from his trip to make love to her. Tonight, he might scare her, might hurt her or remind her like before of the one man in the world he wished hadn't existed.

  Pulling her into his chest and his steely erection, he wrapped his long, muscular arms around her and listened to her heartbeat. She crawled into chest and yawned. Like a sleepy cat, she purred and dug in for a long nap.

  "You don't want to make love to
me?" she asked, looking across the room at the chaise lounge.

  "Yes," he whispered.

  "Then why don't you?"

  "It's not always about me, eh?"

  "You've got that right," she said smiling. "But it's not always about me either.

  Dmitry lifted his brow. A selfless word from Royal? She was coming around. He pulled her closer into his chest and put his hot lips to her ear. The contact felt like electricity on her skin.

  "I will make it all about you when I get back from my meeting," he said recognizing the chemistry between them. He raised his large arm and planted in front of her and sat up a little. "I can't even tell you what I want to do, but if you let me show you… "

  Royal turned around and faced him. Her brown eyes sparkled as they looked up at him under dark thick lashes. "Why can't you tell me?"

  Dmitry looked down, somewhat ashamed. "I don't want to scare you."

  "It's not you who scares me, Dmitry. It's the reminder of him." She rolled her eyes. "I've never been afraid of you?"

  "No?" Dmitry asked, raising a brow.

  "No."

  "Really, well what's this then?" he asked, showing her an old knife wound in his arm from where she had stabbed him when she first found out about his ties to the mafiya.

  "I overreacted," she said smiling. She couldn't help but laugh. Neither could he.

  "I haven't been afraid of you since, should I say," she corrected.

  "Well that makes one of us. I've been scared shitless of you since then."

  She smiled again, revealing white pearly teeth as she did.

  Dmitry sighed. "God, you're beautiful."

  Royal shook her head. "Not as beautiful as you."

  Chapter 6

  When his jet touched down in Sochi, Russia, Dmitry was engulfed in deep thought about his wife and her confessions to him the night before.

  He sat alone in the back with his legs crossed and his chin buried in his hand as he looked out of the window. Even many hours later, he could smell her cologne on him. He had even avoided taking a shower just to keep her scent on him as long as possible.

  Royal's confession had awakened the passion in him yet again. Letting her guard down had been the best thing she could have done for the both of them. In fact, the entire experience was magical and oddly enough with no sex involved.

  However, she had kissed him for hours—like they had never kissed before. She allowed him to touch her in places that before would have sent her into a frenzy. Her eyes were bright in the moonlight, almost as bright as her angelic smile. His heart fluttered. Royal was back.

  "Now you really look like the bastard, papa," Anatoly said, making his way to the back of the jet.

  Dmitry looked up and snapped out of his daze. "Don't remind me. Lets just get this over with so that I can get this shit out of my hair and off my eyebrows. I feel like idiot." He slipped on his Aviator shades.

  "The car is waiting outside for us."

  Anatoly turned around and headed off the plane behind the bodyguards. "Since this is not as official, I was hoping that we could ride in the same car for once."

  Dmitry stood up and made his way off the plane. As he did so, his staff and men looked on amazed at his transformation. He went from a blonde giant to dark, sinister brunette with piercing looks that mirrored his dead brother, Ivan.

  Getting in the back of the Bentley, he checked his phone and looked over at his son. He had to continue to remind himself of why he was doing this. It was only after they had left the salon, after his transformation, that he realized how traumatized his wife must be.

  When he looked in the mirror after his hair color had been changed, he nearly tore out his own eyes. He was Ivan Medlov incarnate, and while the look would surely benefit his son's new project, it was killing him inside.

  "Are you sure about this, Anatoly?"

  "I thought that we had discussed this. Of course, I'm sure. Trust me, papa."

  "Alright," Dmitry said, trying to relax.

  "Are you… uh… listening to this?" Anatoly asked, reaching into his Louis Vuitton backpack.

  "No," Dmitry said in a daze again. "Listen to whatever you like."

  Anatoly passed the bodyguard a CD. "Play this," he said.

  The man took it quickly and turned off the local Russian radio station. Suddenly, Lil Wayne came on the radio. Anatoly gave a bright smile as he heard the beat drop and guitars screaming. The tempo filled the car with heart-pounding music.

  Dmitry stopped looking out of the window and looked over at Anatoly with a furrowed brow.

  "Hey, I'm boss now, remember?," Anatoly smiled.

  "What kind of shit is this?"

  "Wheezy." Anatoly's accent became thicker.

  "It's… .it's rap music," Dmitry said, holding his head. "It's like nails against chalk board. Please, please. Turn off."

  "What's wrong with rap music?" Anatoly laughed. His father was visibly in pain. The music stopped.

  "What isn't?" Dmitry ran his fingers over the side consul and let down the window to breathe. Wheezy had almost given him a heart attack. "Save for when I'm not in car, eh."

  * * *

  Brigitte knocked on Mistress Medlov's door several time before she entered. Oddly enough there was no answer. She came through the double doors with her back to the bed as she pulled in the tray of breakfast food.

  However, when she turned around, she realized that she was alone in the room. She looked around curiously. In the last year, she had not come into the room one morning that the Mistress was not in bed, knotted in sheets with a glass of scotch on her nightstand.

  "Mistress Medlov?" Brigitte called.

  She looked in the large bathroom, in Dmitry's closet, in both of Royal's closets and in the sitting room connected to the bedroom and found no one there. It was not her place to fetch her, but she felt the sudden urge to turn and run out of the room calling after Davyd.

  * * *

  Royal was still wrapped in the covers that smelled like her husband in the guest room where Dmitry had left her. She slept heavily, uninterrupted by nightmares and with a slight grin on her face.

  Davyd looked in on her just to make sure that she was okay. After Brigitte had come into the great room sweaty and wide-eyed, he had no choice. Evidently, the poor girl had run all the way from the Mistress's bedroom on the second floor to the great room on the first floor. Thousands upon thousands of concrete and marble feet were in between the two locations.

  Davyd was nearly as worried if not more worried when Brigitte explained Royal's absence from her room. Running to the security office, he rewound video from the night before and saw her go into bedroom with her husband after she left Anatoly's room. A feeling of relief for several reasons overcame him. Still he felt the need to check in on her.

  Royal slept until noon. When she finally woke up from her peaceful slumber, for the first time in over a year, she was not sweaty, was not hung over and was not angry.

  Mouth dry, she pulled the covers from her body and made her way to the bathroom. She couldn't help but smile at her reflection in the mirror. It was not because she thought she was anymore beautiful, but because she could still smell her husband on her skin. She could still hear the soft beautiful words he had whispered in her ear the night before. She held herself tight and took a deep breath. She had promised to do better and be better. And she would keep her promise.

  * * *

  Victoria had the day off and planned to spend her Saturday out in the city of Prague finding a way to let her hair down.

  Being prim and proper every single day with no release had gotten really old and being holed up in the Medlov's chateau only made her more anxious for some excitement. She almost understood why the mistress was such a pain.

  At first, she had planned on spending the day in the courtyard only a few feet from Dmitry's study playing with Anya and in his view, waiting for the moment when his daughter would draw him out to talk to them. But when she found out that he had hopp
ed a helicopter out of happy town, she had no need to spend unneeded hours playing with his overly-smart three-year old.

  The city of Prague was alive today. After lunch at Dmitry's posh Russian restaurant, she headed down on the cobblestone streets of Prague 1 to visit Royal Flush.

  As soon as Victoria entered the swank boutique, she heard John Mayer's Heartbreak Warfare and smelled expensive perfumes floating through the air. The entire shop was painted in a warm royal blue with silver and gold mirrors and pictures of different cities and designers on the wall. A huge crystal chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling above a large circular blue velvet chaise lounge and illuminated the room with reflections of crystal and gold.

  Two slender women, who could have easily passed for models, stood behind the counter in matching black dresses with bright smiles. The redhead walked up to Victoria.

  "Welcome to Royal Flush," she said in an English accent. "My name is Lola. May I help you find something, or are you just looking today?"

  "Just looking," Victoria said, impressed with the shop. It was a mix of old world opulence and new world technology. "I'm actually Mrs. Medlov's daughters teacher, Victoria. I figured on my day off, I would just stop by and check out the boutique."

  The redhead raised her brow as if this wasn't the first time that she heard the name. "Oh, you're Anya's teacher." There was visible smirk on her face. "Well, please let us know if we can get anything for you. Would you like some water or maybe a glass of champagne while you shop?"

  "Sure. I'll take a glass of bubbly," she said curiously.

  The redhead looked over at the blonde woman and raised her finger. "One please," she said before she moved out of Victoria's way. "Please make comfortable."

  I bet ten dollars that bitch has been talking bad about me, Victoria thought to herself as she took the glass from the woman. She looked around at the racks of name brand clothes and nearly choked. $5,000 for a dress, $7,000 for a suit. Who were they kidding?

  Gulping down the champagne, she looked around for the clearance rack. Oddly enough, there was not one. Snooty ass, she thought shaking her head. Within in minutes, she decided that Royal Flush was not the place for her or her budget.