Dmitry's Royal Flush: Rise of the Queen

by Nelson, Latrivia S.

  "Victoria!" Dmitry sat up.

  "Yes," Victoria said softly.

  "Is… is Royal… I mean, is my wife alright?"

  "Yeah. She went to bed nearly an hour ago. I was just downstairs, and I heard the phone ring. I hope you don't mind me answering it."

  "No, of course not. Where is Davyd?"

  "I think he's asleep. He checked everything right after Royal went up to her room."

  "Well, I am not far from home. Can you let her know that I'm on my way, and I look a little different? I don't want to scare her."

  "Scare her?"

  "Da Da. Tell her I don't quite look myself. She won't answer her phone, but she needs to know before I get there. I don't want to startle her."

  "Oh… okay." Victoria rolled her eyes. He treated Mrs. Medlov like she was such big shit. Who cared what he looked like? "If you don't mind, I'll run upstairs to the second floor and tell her now," she said.

  "That would be wonderful," Dmitry sat back more relaxed. "I'll be home very soon."

  "Good," Victoria said. Counting on it, she thought to herself as she hung up the phone.

  Instead of going to tell Royal, she sprayed her perfume on and made sure that her hair was perfect. She had waited for Davyd to go to bed, waited for the help to retire, waited for Dmitry to come home. If she was going to have a chance with him, it would have to be tonight. Mrs. Medlov, after all, had plans of getting rid of her first thing in the morning.

  Minutes later, the helicopter landed in the courtyard, blowing debris around in twisters of wind as hit the ground with lights shining right into the chateau. Dmitry stepped out of the helicopter with his laptop and saw Royal's window open. She was standing in it, nearly naked. He looked up at her curiously and then ran to the front door.

  Royal closed the curtain as the helicopter took off. She knew it. Ivan wasn't dead. Tears ran down her eyes. Shaking, she ran out of her room as fast as she could, still half-dressed, down the hall to her daughters room. She burst through the door and picked her sleeping daughter up.

  "Mommy?" Anya asked afraid as she clutched her mother's neck.

  "We have to go, baby," Royal whispered, still shaking. "Mommy has to get you to safety."

  Running with her daughter in her arms, she sprinted to Anatoly's room and pulled open the dresser drawers. Throwing clothes, she finally pulled out a large gun and cocked it.

  "Stay here," Royal ordered, opening up Anatoly's closet. "Hide, baby, until I come back for you." Tears ran down her face. She bent down to her crying child and kissed her red cheeks. "I love you." Pushing her daughter into the closet, she locked it behind her and headed back out of the room with the gun in her hand.

  Dmitry was confused and alarmed by the look of his wife. Victoria opened the large doors to greet him, but he whisked past her and ran up the long stairway. His feet could barely keep up with his speed.

  "Royal!" he shouted as he arrived on the second floor.

  He looked down the long, dark corridor and saw her coming towards him. Her silhouette was beautiful. Long, dark hair wrapped around her nearly naked body. In a pair of stilettos and a black silk slip, she raised what appeared to be a gun as she ran towards him.

  He squinted and then hit the light switch to see the gun raised.

  "Royal!" he shouted as he ducked.

  Bullets whizzed past him. He took cover in the doorway.

  "Ivan, you son of bitch! I knew it! Where is my husband?" she screamed, walking fast towards him. "If you killed him!"

  "Baby, it's me!" Dmitry said as he saw Davyd come running up the stairs with guns in both hands. He signaled him not to shoot.

  "Dmitry?" he said, making his way to his boss. He barely missed being shot as he did.

  "Royal has gone mad," Dmitry said, reaching into his holster and pulling out his gun.

  "Are you going to shoot her?" Davyd asked mortified.

  "No! I want to make sure that she knows I'm not armed."

  "Come out, you coward!" she ordered, shooting and blowing out a chunk of the wall. "You came here for me and my baby? I'm going to kill you myself! This time I'll know for sure that you're dead!" She shot again.

  "Fuck," Dmitry said ducking. "Royal it's me. I… I changed my hair color. I wanted to try something new for you. It was way to make you stop always thinking of Ivan and maybe think of Anya more as mine." It was amazing what kind of lies he could come up with at gun point.

  He and Davyd both heard the shots getting closer.

  "Maybe she'll run out of bullets," Davyd hoped.

  They heard her duck behind a door and reload. The magazine hit the floor as she shoved another inside the gun.

  "Not a chance," Dmitry said. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Finally, he handed Davyd the gun and shook his head. "Don't shoot her, no matter what," he said solemnly.

  "You can't go out there," Davyd said, holding him back.

  "I have to," Dmitry growled, pulling away his hand. "I have to. It's my fault."

  Royal reloaded and walked closer, making her way down the long corridor. "Come out!" she screamed, shooting another round with tears in her eyes.

  Dmitry moved from behind the door and stood in the hallway. "Royal, it's me. It's Dmitry. Ivan is dead, sweetheart. Just like we discussed last night."

  Royal had the gun pointed at him. Even with many feet between them, she could hear something different in his voice, something familiar. She shook her head and grasped the gun with both hands.

  "Liar!" she screamed.

  "I came home like I promised." Dmitry raised his hands. "Look, no guns, baby." He took off his coat.

  "Royal, it's Dmitry!" Davyd shouted. "It's Dmitry! God, can't you see that! You're about to kill your own husband!"

  The room was still spinning. Royal wiped the tears and held the gun sturdy. Could it be? She walked closer towards him.

  "Don't you fucking move!" she commanded.

  "I won't," Dmitry said with his hands in the air.

  In a mean sway, Royal advanced towards him. Tears in her eyes, sweating and shaking, she got closer. As she did so, her eyes fluttered. It was Dmitry! The gun began to shake. She looked up at her husband in the eyes.

  By now, the floor was surrounded with men with guns, all unsure if they should point it at the mistress of the house or watch their boss die.

  Dmitry stood still. Davyd stood only steps behind him, pleading with her and behind him Stepan stood with several other men.

  When Royal was only a few feet from Dmitry, she took a deep breath. It was him. She clicked the safety on and dropped the gun in disbelief. Putting her hands over her mouth, she started to cry.

  "Oh my God. I'm so sorry," she said in disgust. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know." Tears fell down her cheeks on to her collar bone.

  Dmitry put his hands down and sighed. His heart was nearly in his throat. He had never imagined dying at his wife's hands before. He could handle it from anyone except her.

  He walked closer to her and saw that she was completely distraught, but something else was wrong. Her pupils were dilated. Her skin was clammy and shaking.

  "Baby," he said sympathetically.

  As he reached for her, she fainted.

  Catching her before she hit the ground, he picked her up and waved off his men. "She's alright," he said, checking her pulse. "Davyd!" he looked behind him. "Call the doctor. Tell him to get over here right now."

  The house seemed to move in slow motion as Davyd ran passed Dmitry to find Anya. He and Stepan ran to her room and found it empty. Instinctively, Davyd ran to Anatoly's room, where he heard the young child screaming and beating on the closet door to get out. He didn't have a key, so he told her stand back and kicked it open.

  Terrified, the girl stood in the back of the closet, screaming out for her mommy. He picked her up and held her tight as he whispered sweet, calming words into her ear.

  Dmitry took his wife into their bedroom and closed the door. Carefully, he laid her on the bed and covered her in the
sheets. He smelled vodka all over her. He couldn't understand. She had promised, and Royal would never break her promise.

  He sat beside her on the bed with his hands covering his face. He had failed her again. As he looked up, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror across he room. All that he could see was Ivan.

  Disgusted, he got up from the bed and wiped the tears from his eyes.

  Davyd walked in and stopped at the doorway. He looked over at the bed to Royal.

  "Anya is back in her room. I had Victoria stay in there with her until she falls back to sleep," he informed his boss.

  "I'll be in to check on her in a minute," Dmitry said drained. "Is she physically hurt, Davyd?"

  "No. She's just shook up. Is Royal going to be alright?" Davyd asked.

  Dmitry looked over at Royal. "I don't know."

  "Well to help things, you might want to do something with that hair, eh?"

  Dmitry sighed and smirked. "I think it's what set her off. She told me before I left that she felt like he would just show up one day."

  "Looks like her worst fears came true. See to your wife. I'll take care of everything else," Davyd said, closing the door behind him."

  Dmitry went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He looked in the mirror in sheer disgust. If he had just stayed, none of this would have happened. Royal had finally started to open up and what did he do? He brought it all back to her doorstep.

  Reaching into the cupboard, he pulled out a black container and opened it to find a pair of unused clippers.

  He plugged them in, leaned over into the sink and pulled the hair back off of his forehead. Running his thumb over the switch, he ran them down the middle of his wavy hair and watched it fall into the water basin.

  Chapter 9

  Victoria waited with Anya until she fell asleep. She sat quietly in the chair in the corner of the bedroom in the dark wondering how in the hell things had gotten so out of the control. She was supposed to be mounting Dmitry at this very moment in the silence of a quiet mansion.

  Now, there were maids and a butler pulling bullets out of the wall. The letter of recommendation was definitely out of the question along with the possibility of a full years pay. All she could hope was that Dmitry wouldn't ask her if she had told Mrs. Medlov about his change or not. She didn't see why changing his hair color was such a big deal, and she wondered why he had continued to call her Royal. She thought the woman's name was Chloe.

  The bedroom door opened slowly, and she saw a massive frame darkening the entryway. It was Dmitry. He came in without acknowledging her presence and went over to his daughter. Bending down on his knees, he ran his hands through her hair. Anya sniffled at little and then turned her back to him and continued to sleep.

  Dmitry crumpled over from exhaustion and sighed. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of Victoria. He looked over at her quickly.

  "Victoria?"

  "Yes, sir?"

  "I need to talk to you," he said, standing up.

  "Meet me in my study. I'll be down in a minute."

  "Yes, sir," she repeated.

  She noticed his drastic change from a curly brunette to now a short, nearly bald fade. She was still confused as to why his changing his hair color had created a near massacre of the entire household. Yet another mystery of this already elusive family.

  Victoria left the room quickly and walked through the long hall, past the staff that hurriedly cleaned the mess as Stepan oversaw them.

  In need of another hit, she ducked into the guest bathroom and closed the door. Taking out the vile in her bra, she emptied the last of the cocaine on her hand and snorted it up.

  Sucking in hard through her nostrils, she wiped her nose quickly and looked in the mirror.

  It was time to shine. If she was ever going to make a move, it would have to be now. She would be understanding and gentle with Dmitry, give him a shoulder to cry on and give her regrets for having to leave, as she was sure that he did not know already of his wife's decision to end her contract. She would watch him grow infuriated that Royal had usurped him, and then she would throw herself at his mercy.

  By the time Mistress Medlov woke up from her slumber, Victoria would have Dmitry right where she wanted him—in between her thighs. She smiled at the thought and licked her lips.

  Pushing her bra up and positioning her breasts where they showed more, she sprayed a little more perfume, fixed her hair and then left the bathroom, headed for Dmitry's study. When she arrived, he was already there sitting by the fireplace. She came in and closed the door quietly. He looked up at her as she did so.

  "Please have a seat," he said in a deep baritone.

  His voice sent chills through her aroused body.

  "Alright," she said, taking the seat closest to him.

  Rubbing his temples, he sat back in the chair with his eyes planted on her. He hated dealing with women. In truth, he despised a sneaky woman more than any other being in the world. It was too much of a reminder of his mother and his late sister-in-law.

  "Did you tell my wife what I asked?" He watched her cross her legs.

  "No," Victoria said, swallowing hard. "I couldn't find her, sir. I went looking everywhere."

  "Everywhere?"

  "Yes, sir?"

  "My house is rather large. How could you look everywhere and still be at the front door to open it when I arrived home?"

  "The bottom floor was the last place that I looked."

  "I see." His jaw clenched tighter.

  "I had no idea that something so small would create such a horrible … catastrophe."

  "Of course not. How could you?"

  He sat up in his seat and leaned towards her. "Your eyes… they're dilated like my wife's." He smiled and tilted his head. "Did you two get into something tonight?"

  "No, sir. We had one drink earlier. She fixed them for us right after she told me that tomorrow would be my last day here."

  Dmitry didn't blink. "Why did she tell you that?"

  "She said that you all had reached a decision together and my contract would be paid in-full, and I would be expected to leave."

  Dmitry raised his brow. "Well, she's correct. Your contract has ended, and you will be paid in full… after I get to the bottom of this."

  Victoria's heart raced. "Bottom of what, sir? You can't believe that I had anything to do with what just happened upstairs?"

  "But… I do believe that you had something to do with what happened upstairs whether knowingly or unknowingly. That's going to be the key for you, Victoria. If it was done maliciously, it will be bad for you. If it was not, it will be just a mistake that we all forget about."

  Victoria watched his eyes. They were unreadable and cold. Suddenly, she felt a chill run down her spine.

  "Since I'm leaving tomorrow, may I speak freely with you, then?" She breathed deeply. Her small breast pressed against her silk blouse.

  Dmitry smiled. The full prominence of his jaw bone and his deep dimples emerged. His eyes sparkled. Licking his lips, he sat back in the chair with his long, muscular legs open.

  "Talk," he said, giving her a sensual look. "Tell me what's on that mind of yours."

  "I love your family. In the short time that I have worked for you, you all have grown to be very important to me."

  Dmitry smiled but was silent.

  "And I have to say, in watching Anya and how alone she is, I am very concerned. Mistress Medlov spends all of her time in a drunken haze or on pills… I've seen her take them… and I feel like you all deserve more."

  "More? How much more can one family have, Victoria?"

  "Money doesn't solve every problem, sir."

  "No?" Dmitry licked his lips. "I have yet to run across a problem that could not be solved by the all mighty dollar," he lied facetiously. If he had thought just once that his money would have saved his wife, he would be a happy poor man.

  "I have a good relationship, Anya. I have a good relationship with your staff. Maybe you shoul
d reconsider sending me away? At this pivotal time in her young life, she needs stability. I can offer her that." She smile and leaned forward towards him, rubbing her hand across her breast as she did so. "I can offer you that, Dmitry." Her lips were wet, legs spread apart, heart racing, waiting for him to take her.

  Dmitry sat back up, reached out and pulled her seat over to him in one quick movement. Her neck jerked. She was startled at his reaction and his raw strength. She inhaled his cologne as he looked her up and down.

  "So you want to me to keep you on my staff?" he said cleverly. His voice was low and deep.

  "Yes," she said, looking at his crotch. "I want to be on your staff, permanently."

  Dmitry laughed. "So that's what this is all about. You want me to fuck you, eh?" He pulled her out of her seat and pulled her into his lap. She felt his erection.

  "You are beautiful… tempting, but I'm not really into having a whore on staff. I despise whores, Victoria." His minty breath tickled her nose. He ran his large hand down her small back and circled her waist.

  "I am no whore," she said defensively. "My feelings for you are genuine." She leaned into him, transfixed by his beautiful features and his strong body. "Is it wrong to want a man who has been forgotten by his wife, denied even? I only seek to offer you what she refuses."

  Dmitry allowed her draw nearer. Inwardly, he fought the words that seem to resonate with the loneliness that he had felt for many years.

  "Let me make you feel alive again." She leaned over into him, grabbed his chiseled face in her warm hands and kissed his soft, pink full lips.

  It was a slow, wet kiss that seemed to go deeper with each motion. She could not get enough of the taste of his mouth, the smell of his cologne. He pulled her closer to his body, gripping her with both regret and need. His erection stabbed the bottom of her dress, pressed through her legs.

  She moaned in torture. He was obscenely huge. She wanted him even more now. Her mouth watered at the prospect of him.

  "Maybe you're right," Dmitry said, pulling away slowly.

  His eyes opened and he tried to rationalize with himself. He pushed her off his lap roughly and then stood up. Walking over to the large mirror, he pulled her over to it and placed her in front of him. She could feel his erection still prodding at her from behind.