Setting the glass on the counter before she left, she waved at the women and headed out the door as a group of well-dressed women in furs came through the door speaking to each other in French. As she looked back, she saw the two sales women together laughing and talking under her breath.
"Thank you for shopping at Royal Flush," the woman said, when she realized that Victoria was leaving.
"Before I leave," Victoria said, turning around. "Where can I go have a drink in a sort of party-like atmosphere during the day? This is Prague, right? You guys know how to have a little fun here, don't you?"
Lola pulled herself away from her associate and walked over to Victoria. She put her hands on her hip. "Party-like?"
"Party-like," Victoria said, wiping her nose. "From the look of you, I can tell that you know. You can't naturally be a size two can you?"
The woman smiled at the ill-formed compliment. "There is a pub not far from here off of LeBeauch Lane. It's called the Rector. You can order a drink and whatever else you need, but it's expensive. Because of the area, you're going to pay way more than market value."
"Well, I don't mind paying for that," Victoria said smirking.
"Ask for Myneau," she said in a little warmer tone to Victoria "Hell help you out."
With that Victoria headed out. She hadn't had a serious release since she got there. Customs was too much of risk to get good shit through. It would be nice to do a few lines and get some pills for later.
* * *
A breathtaking Sunset was on the horizon of the Russian Riviera by the time that Dmitry settled into his exclusive suite at the Rodina Hotel.
With the curtains pulled to see the Black Sea and the parade of fine yachts as they sailed by, he poured himself a nice strong glass of vodka and opened his laptop. The meeting would not be for another two hours. It would give him just enough time to take a bath and call Royal.
Even after a hectic day, he still could not take his mind off of her. How he longed to be with her now. He wanted to hear her voice, feel her hot body against his again, smell her perfume and feel her long hair rub over him. The thought of her oddly enough gave him an uncompromising hard on. He looked down at his rising pants and sighed.
"Royal, you're killing me," he said aloud, taking a sip from the crystal goblet.
The sun slipped into his room as it reflected on the water. Crisp air waved the soft curtains and shined on his bright eyes. They flickered in the mirror across the room as he looked at himself.
He was getting old. He could see the gray in hair when the stylist had pulled through his gold locks earlier. And he could see the lines even more pronounced now on the sides of his eyes.
Time was no longer on his side. That was why he had to do this for his son, even though he was going against his sacred vows to his young wife.
Anatoly had a chance to make a true name for himself—something that would be more respected by his peers than a legacy.
Closing his eyes, he rested his head back on the chocolate leather chair and tried to relax.
* * *
While Dmitry was resting, Anatoly was downstairs with his bodyguards having drinks at the Black Magnolia. With only a few people in the restaurant, he had a clear view of a huddle of young blondes eyeing him from across the room. They looked like trouble, like fun. He ordered them drinks and had them sent over.
"I think she wants you, boss," his bodyguard, Vasily, said smiling.
"Which one?" Anatoly asked looking at the girls as they waved thanks over to him. "I don't see how my father does it. He's faithful to one woman," he shook his head. "One woman." He put up his index finger.
"What's wrong with that," Vasily asked.
"Well you can't have all of them if you're busy pleasing one," Anatoly said, grinning as the women got up from their seats and headed towards them.
Anatoly had never committed to Brigitte, nor did he plan to anytime soon. He was Vor—and not just any Vor. He was boss. His father had thrown away the freedom that came with such a prestigious honor.
Not being allowed to marry or have children simply meant that he never had to worry about being tied down. There was no one to argue with or lie to about his whereabouts, no one to spend late nights lamenting over and no one to answer to except God and council.
He smiled at the thought. These women were like so many. They saw the expensive clothes, the entourage of men, the watches, the cars and the attention. They all wanted to be a part of it. He was happy to oblige them… for the night.
Chapter 7
As the sun set in Prague, Victoria pulled up to the private drive of the Chateau as high as a kite from doing coke lines in the back room of the restaurant with some shady characters she had met through Ryno. Maybe now, she could finally stomach the Medlov clan for another week before she headed back to her new haven.
Lanterns hung beside the closed iron gate and two cameras focused in on the car. After a moment, the gates opened, and she dashed down the road with the top down in one of the family's cars, a sleek silver Maserati GranCabrio.
Unbelievably, the Mistress had allowed her to borrow it. She knew that Mistress Medlov didn't want to, but the prospect of getting her out of the house was too exciting for the uptight witch to resist. When Victoria had asked her about borrowing a vehicle, the mistress had thrown her the keys and said simply, "it's the last car on the left wing of the garage." With that she sashayed out of the room with her daughter and disappeared down the hall.
After parking the car, Victoria grabbed a few bags out of the trunk and headed inside the house. To her surprise, Anya was nowhere to be found. Evidently, Mistress Medlov had spent the entire day with her daughter instead of curled up in her bed like a hermit. There were even fresh flowers throughout all of the foyers. She walked in the darkness down the marble hallway to the stairs leading to her room. As she made it to the steps, she heard a voice behind her.
"Victoria," Royal said softly.
"Yes ma'am," Victoria answered, turning around slowly. She could see the tall woman standing down the hall. Even in the darkness, she looked stately in a slender skirt and turtleneck.
"I'd like to talk to you, if you're not too busy… now," Royal hit the light fixture and lit up the dark corridor. "Would you mind meeting me in my study?"
"Of course," she backed away from the stairs and followed Mistress Medlov with the bags and her purse still in her hand.
Victoria had no idea that the mistress had a study, too. Where was it? She thought that she had committed every room on the first floor to memory.
Victoria followed her with at least ten feet between them past Dmitry's study, past the great room and gym to a pair of white double doors at the very end of the hall in the corner.
Royal unlocked the doors and opened them for Victoria. "After you," she said waiting. Closing the doors behind them, she offered Victoria a seat and sat down behind the massive white oak credenza.
"Would you like some tea?" Royal offered graciously. She poured herself a large glass and set it beside her.
"No," Victoria said, looking for the booze. It surprised her that the mistress wasn't drunk tonight, especially with Dmitry away from home. "Do you have something stronger?"
Royal raised her brow and smiled. "I'm sure I do, but for now, lets talk about why I wanted to speak with you." She sighed. "Victoria, I want to write you a letter of recommendation."
"Really," Victoria was speechless.
"Yes, for your next assignment. You see, when you came here, we had unresolved issues that you had nothing to do with. Since you have come here, we have resolved those issues and in the process have realized that we are no longer in need of your services."
Victoria was silent.
"So, we are going to pay you in full for your entire contract, provide you with a letter of recommendation and send you on your way… tomorrow."
"I see."
Royal waited for a response.
"If I may ask, when was this decision made?"
Royal did not see the relevance but chose to answer. "I made the decision today, and I will discuss it with Dmitry tonight when he returns, but trust me the decision is final."
"I understand." Victoria smiled. "Well thank you for the opportunity, Mrs. Medlov. It has been my pleasure. Since I'll be leaving tomorrow, do you mind if we spend a while talking about my progress with Anya?"
Royal was relieved that there was no opposition. "Sure. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, what type of stronger drink would you like?"
"Umm… scotch sounds nice. Do you have any?"
"Of course. I'll be right back."
Royal left the room quietly and walked down the hall to the great room to grab a bottle of scotch. Victoria listened carefully for the click of her stilettos then reached into her purse and pulled out a vile of cocaine. Dropping a little more than a gram into Royal's tea, she swished around the contents to make sure it could not be detected and slipped the vile back in her purse. Soon after, Royal returned with a crystal vase of scotch and poured Victoria a glass.
"Sorry it took so long. Davyd must have put it away."
Royal sat back down and sighed. This hadn't been so bad. Originally, she thought that because of the short notice, there might be a conflict, but alas it had not. She smiled at Victoria, and then noticed her eyes were dilated.
"Are you alright, Victoria?" Royal asked curiously. "You look… high."
Victoria laughed. "No. I had a few drinks earlier, a lot earlier, but I'm fine."
"You didn't drink and drive, did you?"
"Honestly, Mrs. Medlov, I only had two drinks earlier, and I waited a couple of hours to drive. I just haven't had anything to drink since I've been here considering my position. Now that I'm leaving, I figured I might as well have another."
"I guess you're right," Royal relaxed. "What's a few drinks, huh?"
* * *
The dark waters on the Black Sea were heavy with waves passing by in silent melodic symphony as the large yacht navigated on the coastline under the cover of night. Dmitry stood on the deck looking over at the water as the other men talked cheerfully among themselves.
In his own torture, he continued to think of Royal. Some strange force was pulling him back home to her, so much in fact, it was impossible for him to concentrate. It had been agony to get dressed and come out here with men he had vowed to the only person who had truly loved him to never see again.
His mind was twisted around a collage of thoughts of Royal, of what she had been through, of what they had both sacrificed to walk away from this life, and yet here he was again being what he denied he was for almost three years… a Vor.
For the others at the meeting, it was a pleasure to have the great Dmitry Medlov back in their midst, and a pleasure to know that the name would be carried on by his trusted son, Anatoly. The group had received them both happily and was not surprised to know that largest international gunrunners in the business were interested in this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Once they were escorted with their entourage of men on to the yacht, there was no question in most of their minds that if the Medlov's wanted this business, they would get it.
Anatoly was the center of attention. The men swarmed around him, quizzing him on his knowledge of global interaction among the Vory and his position on new business like cybercrime and old business like human trafficking.
For Anatoly, this was a coming out party of sorts. While he had been the big fish in the little pond of the United States, there was evidently a lot more business outside of the secure borders of the free world.
As the crowd dissipated, Anatoly found his way over to his father. He was tower of silence tonight only nodding and smiling at the men in his normal gentle fashion but much more introverted than usual.
Dmitry stood with a glass of vodka in a black suit that only made him look taller and more regal. His dark hair gleamed with luster and his eyes pierced through all that he bothered to notice.
"Papa, what is the matter?" Anatoly asked, sitting in the chair by where his father stood.
"Nothing. I am here to support you. You are the guest of honor tonight. There is no need for me to make show."
"They all are excited to see you. I've heard a hundred stories since I got here about all that you've done as boss. I have so much to live up to," Anatoly seemed proud.
"Well, the more they like you, the better, son. I have spoken with my contacts. The transaction is legit. However, all you do tonight is make bid. There is nothing more until the seller contacts the bidder he is most interested in doing business with after checking all of his references."
"So after this, we wait?"
"In just awhile, they'll ask you for your bid. You type it into computer, confirm it with liaison, and then you enjoy the rest of night. We are not foot soldiers. We have done what we have come to do. After they have made their decision, they will contact you. So, don't be surprised if you hear from them in the morning, or you never hear from them again."
Anatoly sighed. "So cut and dry."
"We are not men who like our time to be wasted. This process has been perfected over time to ensure confidentially and efficiency."
"So what's with you? Besides this, what is going on in that very complicated brain of yours?"
Dmitry sighed. "I want to go home. After you make bid, I've arranged for my jet to be fueled, and I fly out of here. You should stay and get to know the men."
"Did something happen?"
"Yes," Dmitry smiled and turned toward his son. "She's coming around."
"It took long enough." He sat back in his seat more relaxed. Of course, it had to be about Royal. It was all the man ever thought of anymore. Royal. Anya. Royal.
"It took time that it needed," Dmitry said, shaking his head. "You are so young. Women don't come around when you want them to; they come around when it's time."
"For me, women cum when I've worked hard enough," Anatoly grinned.
"Are you being safe, Casa Nova?" Dmitry's blue eyes narrowed.
"Yes. Of course. I don't want to get package," Anatoly grinned, mirroring the same hauntingly beautiful looks.
Dmitry shook his head. His dimples showed. "I remember time when I was just like you. Be careful, eh. There is only so much Anatoly to go around."
The crowd silenced suddenly, and a tall blonde woman in a tailored black suit walked out with a computer. She placed it carefully on the table and typed in a password.
"Gentlemen, we are ready to begin bids," she said in a Russian accent.
"Like clockwork," Dmitry whispered.
* * *
Royal checked on Anya once last time before she headed to her room. In a flash of heat, she felt her vision began to blur. For the life of her, she didn't understand why. She had after all not had a drink or taken any valium today. She had promised Dmitry. And she wanted to do better for the prospect of a better life with the family that she owed everything. Still, she felt confused, high and jittery.
Going into her bedroom, she closed the door and watched her hand slide down the door. There were four hands instead of one.
Lying down on the bed, she looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes. She had gotten high once in junior high. The strange feeling she was experiences now, felt mildly like it, only stronger.
Biting her lip, she ran her fingers down her blouse and pulled it up off her skin. She had to get out of these clothes, had to get out of her skin.
She ran her fingers down her burning body and sighed as the hard nails dug into her flesh. Ahh. That felt… good.
She sat up quickly. Something was wrong. Maybe she was having withdrawal from being clean for a day—valium, no alcohol. No. She shook her head at the thought. This was something else. The lights seemed to shine directly into her eyes, blinding her.
Getting off the bed, she went and turned off the light. In the darkness, she stood half-dressed and afraid. Something was happening to her.
Her heart raced. Her skin crawled. T
he room spun so fast until she had to close her eyes to make it stop. Placing her hands on her ears, she took deep breaths. Calm down! she commanded herself. But the confusion had taken on a life of its own.
Desperate she ran into closet, hitting her shoulder on the door and falling down on the floor. She looked up at the light disoriented. Pulling herself up off the ground, she went to her drawer and pulled out a hidden bottle of vodka.
She just needed something to calm down. Opening the bottle, she turned it up and drank it quickly. Wiping her mouth, she laid back down on the ground and took a deep breath. That wasn’t smart, she thought to herself as the room began to spin.
Tears ran down her face. Why she didn't know, but suddenly, she could see Ivan. She could feel him on her skin.
"No," she said breathing hard.
"No… no… .no!" She pulled her skirt, ripping it as she did so. Was she hallucinating? She could smell his cologne, hear his deep, baritone voice, feel him. "No!" she screamed. "IVAN!"
Her anxiety escalated within seconds and she found herself nearly hyperventilating in the closet, where no one could hear her or save her from herself. Holding herself tight, she rocked in the closet, nearly naked and screaming.
Chapter 8
Dmitry couldn't wait. The urgency in his chest would no longer let him. He urged the men to dock, and he left nearly in a run back to the hotel. He had tried to call Royal several times on her personal cell, yet no one answered. She always answered. He ran up to his room, grabbed his laptop and left his clothes. A car was waiting for him at the steps of the hotel. He jumped in and had the chauffeur hightail it to the airport. Within thirty minutes, he was on his jet.
The flight had been less than torturous. When he arrived in Prague, he was severely distressed, though he didn't know why. He couldn't move fast enough. He had left all of his clothes back in Sochi along with his Rolex and his shoes in a fit of a rush.
When the jet landed, he was on the helicopter in minutes and only a short distance away from his wife. He dialed Davyd but did not get an answer. Evidently he was asleep. He finally called the house phone. Surprisingly, Victoria answered.
Dmitry's Royal Flush: Rise of the Queen Page 7