Dmitry's Royal Flush: Rise of the Queen

by Nelson, Latrivia S.

  "Dmitry, we have guests," Royal blushed. She hid her breasts on his back.

  "Oh, hello, Doc."

  Dmitry didn't bother to cover himself, but he did make sure not to turn where they could see Royal's rear end as she clung to his back like a Koala bear.

  "Hello, Mr. Medlov," Dr. Finlen said, trying to look away from the massive dirty giant. "You remember my assistant, Kyle," the doctor motioned over at the young man staring with his mouth wide open at the spectacle.

  "Yes, I remember him," Dmitry said, reaching his hand out then quickly retracting it. "Sorry. I'll shake your hand later. I'm just a little… "

  "Indisposed at the moment," Royal finished.

  "So which one of you am I supposed to be here to treat?" the doctor asked with a grin. "Both of you appear a little unstable right now."

  "Neither. It appears that I had her cure all along," Dmitry smirked.

  "Well, what was the problem, if you don't mind me asking? It sounded urgent on the phone when Davyd called."

  "I was slipped cocaine and Oxycotin, doctor," Royal answered.

  "Oh my goodness! By whom?" Dr. Finlen was very concerned having known for many years the Royal's fragile state.

  "The teacher," Royal answered. "She confessed."

  "What?" Davyd's outburst showed his shock. He looked over at Royal with a furrowed brow. She had been drugged under his nose!

  Dmitry smiled. "I wish that you had known when I asked you to put her out, Davyd. Your anger might have taught her a lesson more astringent than Royal's."

  "Where is the woman?" Dr. Finlen asked.

  "I don't know," Dmitry looked to Davyd for an answer.

  "I had one of the security guards take her to Prague and drop her off in city. She was told to find her own way home and to be out of country by noon tomorrow."

  "Well, it's a Friday night. I'm sure if she works hard enough by morning she'll have enough money for an airline ticket," Dmitry smirked.

  Royal hit him and laughed. The infectious and untimely happiness of the couple made everyone snicker, including Stepan, who appeared from nowhere with two robes.

  "Thank you," Dmitry reached out quickly for the robes. "Why don't you take our guests to the sitting room, and Royal and I will be down in just a minute, Stepan."

  "Yes, sir," he said quickly.

  Davyd shook his head and followed Stepan and the guests into the west wing of the house.

  Alone again, Dmitry set Royal on the floor and dressed her in the pink fluffy robe. Pulling her curly hair from her face, he bit his lip.

  "Well that was embarrassing," she said, closing his robe around his waist and tying it. "Now everyone has seen what all the fuss is about."

  Dmitry laughed and put his hands on her arms. "Well, it is a pretty big fuss. You know… we should probably go upstairs and get into something more appropriate before we go in there and talk to them, eh?"

  Royal bit her lip. "I know what you're trying to do, Dmitry." She grinned and looked down at the marble floor.

  Dmitry raised his brows and smiled, revealing his dimples. "What? I just want to make sure we don't continue to make scene. Did you see that poor kid? He couldn't keep his eyes off you."

  "Hush," Royal bit out, laughing. "They are going to hear you."

  "They can't hear me." He pulled her to him. "Lets go upstairs for… twenty minutes."

  "No, that's too long."

  "Ten minutes?"

  "No, Dr. Finlen got up and came out here in the middle of the night. He's exhausted and very old. We can't make him wait."

  "He can spend the night. We have a thousand bedrooms."

  "No."

  "Five minutes?" he bargained, licking his lips. He growled and pulled her to him. "If you say no again, I'll take you right here in the middle of the floor."

  Royal paused. "Fine. Five minutes is all you get and that includes the time it takes to get dressed." She giggled.

  "Well, I better start on the way up there," he said, opening his robe jokingly.

  * * *

  The sun crept into Anatoly's suite and cast a glow over his naked body as he lay awake thinking. His father had left the night before suddenly an unexplained, which left him assuming it had something to do with Royal.

  He was still perplexed by their ever-evolving relationship of trial after trial, and it plagued him why his father had left a lifestyle as opulent as theirs to be with one woman.

  What could one woman provide? He had never known one worth the trouble. Each he had met had a sob story that reeked of neediness and fragility that he could neither identify with nor stomach.

  But he did love Anya. The fruit of his father and step mother's toils was a blooming girl whom he loved past words. Yet, he was certain that one could have a child without marriage. It had been done in his family for many generations.

  There had been no father there to guide him until he sought out Dmitry. And while he did not wish his life on his little sister, he also did not wish a life of constant bickering between parents who had everything and still chose to fight about the nothingness in a relationship.

  His cell phone rang, pulling him from his thoughts of his checkered past into the present. He reached over past the young blonde beside him and grabbed his cell. The number was unknown. Odd. He answered hesitantly.

  "Hello," he said, sitting up in the bed.

  "Mr. Medlov," a woman with a Russian accent said coolly. "We are interested in your offer."

  "Good," Anatoly held his sigh of relief. "I assume that there are terms." He recognized her voice as the liaison on the yacht the night before.

  "Yes. We will be getting back with you on that in the next twenty-four hours. Until then, we ask that you keep your phone on."

  "Of course," Anatoly answered, feeling the young woman stir beside him.

  He hung up his phone and smiled. His father would be pleased that things had worked out. This would mean a new era for the Medlov family and new power for him that he had been hungry for now for over three years.

  "Excuse me, miss," he nudged the woman.

  "Yes," her eyes opened to full intense brown beams.

  He was certain that she was probably awake the entire time, lingering beside him to the bitter end as women often did the morning after.

  "It's time for you to go," he said gently. "Get your things, and I'll have a car take you to your place." Rubbing her arm, he watched her obediently pull her body from the bed and begin to get dressed.

  * * *

  Dorians assistant hung up the phone and looked over at him. He sat eagerly on the end of his desk pealing an apple and listening to the short conversation.

  He nodded at her and looked at his laptop. From his assistants report of the bids, the Medlov family was short a guest by the end of the night.

  He had never expected them to show but was glad that they did. He had unfinished business with Dmitry and would use the opportunity to end their war one way or another.

  Dmitry had slaughtered his friend, Ivan, three years ago. It had been a bloody, brutal battle in the streets of Memphis and at the Medlov compound.

  His only regret, the thing that haunted him nightly, was the rape and murder of a young woman who was an innocent.

  The pictures of her under surveillance were burned into his mind forever.

  Royal was a beautiful black woman with promise and compassion. Plus, the most horrible of the reports on her death was that she was with child. A double sin. Her end was undeserved, but it was Dmitry who had helped them all bring her to it.

  Dorian thought because of his own involvement, God would have been angry with him and punished him with death or at least poverty. But he had prospered beyond belief after the bombings, all without Dmitry knowing or pursuing him.

  However, the fact that Dmitry had shown up at the bid last night meant that he was back. The rumors of his retirement had to have been false. And with a man as powerful as Dmitry Medlov calling the shots through his son and revenge still on his
brain for his dead fiancé and child, there would be little to no refuge for him now.

  "Find out where the boy is going," Dorian ordered the woman. "Find out where he lives, where Dmitry lives and how to get close to him. Then report back to me. I'll go there myself."

  "Yes, sir," the tall blonde said, getting up from the desk to leave her boss alone to think and plan.

  The Medlov bid had come in 30% higher than everyone elses'. That was their typical style. Anything that they wanted, they got.

  This shipment was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and it had to be handled with the utmost care. His clients would never turn down the lucrative Medlov offer; he was certain of it.

  But he was responsible for the handling of the bids, the logistical transfer of goods and money and the final meeting for payment, which meant that he and Dmitry would have to come in contact with each other at some point. The tide would surely turn then for both of them once Boss Medlov realized who he was dealing with regardless of its lucrative nature.

  Dorian considered the Intel a leg up in the situation. If he could find out everything before Dmitry knew anything at all, he could make the deal for his clients and wipe out his nemesis all at the same time.

  The word on Anatoly was that he was Dmitry's son. He had no quarrels with him and therefore planned to leave him unharmed. He would come out of this the most powerful gunner runner in the world and one family member short. No one would ever know who had done it. And his revenge for both his friend, Ivan, and his need to be rid of his most dangerous enemy would be over.

  Chapter 12

  Midmorning came and went and Royal and Dmitry were still holed up in their bedroom. Brigitte had knocked early that morning with breakfast for the pair and found the Medlov's were occupied. The word through the grapevine in the house was that they had rekindled their love naked in the rain and mud by the lake after a brief shoot out on the second floor in the family quarters.

  Evidently one of the lawn workers, who lived in the quarters behind the house, had seen them rolling around on the ground screwing like wild animals. It had also been confirmed by the workers that Dmitry was hung like a horse. Brigitte smiled to herself. So was Anatoly for that matter. It must haven been a family trait.

  "We should probably get up," Royal said, raising her head off of Dmitry's chest. Their bodies were sweaty and exhausted from hours of love making.

  "I'm starving," Dmitry said, picking her up and pulling her closer to him. "What do you want to eat? I call chef."

  "I don't know," she yawned and stretched. "Eggs, bacon, pancakes with strawberries, orange juice, grits and a side of honey butter."

  "Shit," Dmitry scoffed. "I need paper to write all that down."

  "Well, it's been a long night," she explained.

  "I think I pulled my hamstring," Dmitry grabbed his leg.

  "Yeah, well, I'm certain I pulled my back. Try having a 300-pound man pummel you from behind sometimes."

  "No, thank you," he smiled. Dmitry tapped her exposed backside and pulled himself from her body. "I could still go another round," he said, standing on the side of the bed stretching.

  "Later," Royal smiled. "Right now, I want to see Anya."

  "I texted Davyd earlier. He said that she was still sleeping. Last night was very scary for her."

  "I know," Royal stopped smiling. "We owe her an explanation. She probably thinks that I'm crazy, Dmitry."

  "Nonsense. Anya loves you. She knows that you would never do anything to harm her. If it makes you feel better, we give her a talking to together when she wakes up. Maybe make up with her with the borscht she likes for papa to cook? I do it myself after shower. Make big meal."

  "That sounds good, but I still want breakfast."

  "I know. I know. I get you breakfast. You get all the energy you can, because we do this all again this evening."

  "Maybe we can leave out the cocaine and guns this time around."

  "Hey, it spiced it up a little," he joked with her.

  There was a hard knock on the door. Everyone knew not to bother them. Who could be that insolent?

  Royal covered up while Dmitry walked over to the door. He opened it just a little and looked down. It was Anatoly.

  "Papa. I just got home. Davyd told me what happened to Royal and Anya. Is Royal alright?"

  Dmitry looked back at Royal, who was sitting up in the bed. "It's Anatoly," he said, calming her. "I'll be back."

  Grabbing the robe off the ground, he wrapped it around his body and stepped outside. His son looked up at him angrily awaiting an explanation on what had happened to Anya.

  "Everyone is fine, Anatoly," Dmitry assured as he walked with him down the hallway.

  "Well, what did you do to the bitch?" Anatoly asked fuming.

  "I wanted to do something, but Royal insisted that she just leave." Even Dmitry was dumbfounded. "Her father will surely be put off the payroll, and I'll give her a scathing report."

  "Report? You've gone soft," Anatoly snapped. "Well, what would you have me to do, oh great little one?" Dmitry clenched his jaw.

  "Nothing," he shook his head and remembered his place. "I came home to tell you about deal. I got call this morning like you said I would. I headed here straight afterwards." Dmitry smiled. He was proud of his son. "Good. Now you just wait for instruction. I assume you have plan for transportation, warehousing and distribution of all these weapons?"

  "Da, but I won't need it for long. I have struck deal with a Jewish group outside of Palestine. Most of them are headed straight there as soon as order is final."

  "You are getting around, aren't you?"

  "I told you that I'd make you proud."

  "And you have," he said, opening Anya's door as they stopped. He looked in quickly on his little one. Her curtains had been drawn, and she slept peacefully in her bed with her bunny rabbit. The sight calmed his spirits. He was forced to smile. Anatoly stuck his head in also. He scanned the room and sighed. He didn't know what he would do if something ever happened to Anya. Neither of them did. She was their solace. They both closed the door and continued downstairs without speaking anymore about her.

  "Are you going to change to clothes?" Anatoly asked.

  "Da, I just needed to get Royal some breakfast and tell the cook to make sure that I have what I need to fix meal for Anya before she wakes up."

  "You cooking borscht?" Anatoly asked.

  "Yes."

  "Fix enough for me." His eyes were bright.

  "I cook for entire family today, as sort of a celebration."

  "Of what?"

  "Reconciliation," Dmitry joked.

  Anatoly smirked. "It sounds odd coming from a man who can literally have any woman that he wants or doesn’t want. Davyd told me what happened last night between you and Victoria. I told you that you couldn't trust her."

  "You did. And I didn't trust her. I ignored her, which is just as bad, I suppose. Look what happened. I nearly lost my wife last night," he shook his head.

  Anatoly's face reddened with anger, but he tried to hide it. He interrupted his father. "Well, look, I have to run into town for minute. When I come back, lets talk about the deal and have dinner as family," Anatoly said, headed for the car garage.

  "How long will you be gone?" Dmitry asked, standing the in foyer in his robe as the maids scurried past him with naughty grins. "I start cooking in about an hour."

  "Not long, papa." Anatoly turned and walked away. "Close your robe all the way. The maids are looking."

  * * *

  Victoria settled down at a small restaurant in the square not far from the airport to eat before she headed up to her hotel room for a while to rest.

  She had found a flight out of Prague for the following morning and planned to leave this place for good. Of course Davyd had told her to be out of Prague by noon, but it wasn't like he could do anything to her now that she had left the animal farm. Plus, it was already going on 1:30, and she was starving.

  Her plan had hardly turned out
in her favor. She was humiliated by that undercover psycho, Dmitry, threatened by his dizzy wife, kicked out by the grandpa of the house without even being able to collect all of her belongings and forced to ride in a Smart Car back to the city with a very smelly security guard, who looked at her legs the entire thirty-minute drive. He had dropped her in the center of town, thrown out her bags and pulled off in the rain.

  In another humiliating move, she had to call her father and beg him to purchase her a ticket on her behalf. He had immediately inquired about the termination instead of asking if she was alright.

  Of course, she had avoided telling him that she had drugged the mistress with a cocktail that could have easily killed her and propositioned Dmitry while his wife was tripping. She omitted that she had been dragged from the house by her arm and thrown out in the courtyard—made to wait on the smelly security guard. She definitely avoided telling him that she herself was high on cocaine—even though he knew about her problem. She only said that it had not worked out and the Medlov's where no longer in need of her services. She would tell him more of the truth when she was back in DC and away from this place.

  * * *

  Anatoly shifted gears and tore through the streets of Prague on his cell phone. One of his contacts said that he had spotted Victoria at a restaurant in Prague 1.

  If he rushed, he could get to her and deal with the bitch himself. How could his father just allow her to leave unharmed? How could Royal allow her to leave after all that had happened to her? He shook his head in disgust.

  Soft. Stupid. The both of them were. They had gotten so wrapped up in their little fairy tale until they couldn't even deal with reality anymore.

  He hadn't figured out what he would do just yet, but he figured that an eye for an eye would just about make them even. It had to be done for Anya if for no one else. He pulled up to the front of his fathers restaurant, where a young man stood waiting.

  As soon as he saw Anatoly, he ran over to the car.

  "Boss, you want us to take of? This is small shit. One of us can do it. I can do it. It would be honor," he said in a Russian accent, leaning over into the window of Anatoly's car.