Lips twisted into a painful frown, she ran down the dark corridor to the kitchen -the only place she knew was vacant at this hour. Her feet carried her swiftly. She could feel her stomach twisting into knots as though she would vomit. The rain of tears evident on her face, ruining her makeup, she fled down the stairwell and down the back pathway to the kitchen.
Barging through the doors, she leaned on the counter and let out of agonizing sob. Damn him to hell for hurting her.
Dmitry took his spoon out of the peanut butter and whipped his head around the door of the cupboard to see Brigitte bent over the table crying.
Wiping his mouth, he placed the jar back in the far corner of his stash of treats and closed the door. Immediately, she stood up, out of breath and flushed.
In his robe, he walked over to her and sat down on a stool by the island. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that either her mother had died, or Anatoly had struck. Based upon the mere rage in her eyes, he knew that it had something to do with the latter.
"Brigitte, what is the matter?" he asked in a tranquil, soothing voice.
She wiped her face quickly, embarrassed by her display of horrid, raw emotion. "Excuse me, sir, for my outburst. I thought I was alone," she explained between sniffs.
"You are not," he said, reached over to the large bowl to take out a few cherries. "Would you like one?"
"No," she said, blinking fast to stop the tears. "I'm sorry, sir."
"It's alright. I have wife and daughter. I see tears more than any other man in the world, besides maybe a pediatrician."
She laughed.
"So, what is wrong? Has your mother passed?"
"No." She sighed. "Thank God. She still fights every single day." Forced to smile at her mothers strength, she finally stood up straight and smoothed out her wrinkled uniform.
"Then what would make your cry so badly at dawn?"
"Your son." She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. "I'm afraid that I am just not good enough for him or bad enough."
Dmitry smiled. His beautiful features were laced with old wisdom. He popped the cherry seed out of his mouth into his hand and grabbed a napkin. "Did he tell you that, or did you assume it?"
"How can I assume anything different? He broke up with me," she lamented.
"Brigitte, you are good girl. I assume he did it, because he cares for you, and he is not yet ready for responsibility of caring for such a good woman."
"You Medlov men use the term „good girl a lot." She nodded at him then looked up at the ceiling as she bit her lip. "But you offer no explanation as to why good is bad for you."
Dmitry raised his brow. "I think you know. Everyone who works for us knows. We are not men of respectable character. It is a curse to have a good woman at your side and find her hurt because of your misdeeds. The safest thing is to not allow her to be at your side."
"I've heard the stories. I do not care," she began to cry. "I would do anything to be with him."
"Why?"
"Because I love him."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I just do. And I was hoping that someday he would love me back."
"And because he knows that that someday will never come, he would no longer lead you on." He pushed the bowl down to her and watched her pull out a few cherries for herself. "This is sad that you have found yourself in love with someone who does not love you, but it is good also."
"How?" She wiped the tears from her mouth.
"Because you leave yourself open to find someone who does love you and will stand by you. Do not look at it as a negative. It is simply Gods way of leading you to right person."
"Of course, you can speak like this when you have a woman like Mistress Medlov to love. She is strong and beautiful, and she loves you more than even herself." Brigitte feared she had said too much but could not stop.
"Your words are kind. To know that you have known this since before our reconciliation makes me… happy. But do you see how pained she has been for years?"
"Yes."
"It is because of me. And Anatoly will not see you pained in same way. For that, I am proud of him and happy for you. Trust me, your feelings for him will dull in months if not weeks. After all, he has never properly presented you in public. Every woman deserves to be presented, whether the man is poor or rich has nothing to do with his pride in his selection. When you find man who treats you like queen, regardless of his status in world, you have found the man you should spend rest of your life with… not a man who will have you in is bed but not in his life."
Dmitry's words were sobering and broken. His English was always worse when he first woke up, when no one was around to correct him, namely Royal. But his words caused her to sit up straighter and feel better about herself.
She nodded at him with a brighter smile in her cloudy eyes.
"Thank you, Master Medlov."
"It is my pleasure," he said, standing up. "Now, if you'll excuse me."
He had been around enough young vulnerable women for the week. He had no intention of being accused being with Anatoly's maid.
"Yes, sir," she said as he walked pass. She watched him as he left, moving with ease through the world, comfortable in his own skin, knowledgeable, wise and beautiful. It made her ask herself why she couldn't have a man like him. Then she thought of Royal and how absolutely irrefutable she was in everyway. Maybe that’s why, she said to herself.
* * *
Anatoly parked his car in the garage and grabbed the grocery bags out of the trunk. He headed up the stairs and entered into the condo to smells of food burning on the stove. After turning off the alarm, he set the bags down on the kitchen table and turned off the asparagus burning in the skillet.
"Oh, shit. I was coming to get that," Victoria said, rounding the corner. She looked up at him and smiled as she walked pass.
Again, he caught a whiff her intoxicating cologne. He eyed her as she went over and looked into the cloth bags to pull out the produce.
"I figured you might be hungry," he explained, pointing at the bags.
"I am. Thanks," she said, sorting through the food.
"Did you call anyone, email anyone?"
"No."
"I don't suppose that you would tell me if you did."
She sighed and leaned against the kitchen table. "No, I don't think that I would."
Anatoly looked down and smirked. "I see that you're still a smart ass."
"Sorry." She swallowed hard, remembering the gun shots from the night before. "You have that effect on me. I don't know. You make me crazy."
He smiled. "I have the feeling that you were crazy well before you met me."
"You might be right."
Anatoly remembered himself.
"I didn't come here to make unneeded conversation with you." His jaw clenched. "I told you that you'd be working for me, and I need to give you instructions for your first assignment."
"You make it sound like mission impossible."
Victoria walked over and poured herself a cup of coffee.
Anatoly noticed that she was wearing one of his dress shirts and a pair of his boxers. He could see the definition in her muscular legs and her perfectly smooth dark skin better now. Looking up at her face, he tried to focus on his thoughts.
"Want some coffee?" her eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings.
"I don't drink coffee." He looked away again.
"Oooookay." She went back over to the kitchen table and sat down. "Do I need a pen and pad or something?"
"Never write down anything that I don't tell you to. You have to learn how to remember."
Victoria sighed. "Alright." She took a sip of her coffee and eyed him.
Anatoly didn't walk over to her. He preferred the space.
"You are going to fly to Sochi, Russia tomorrow night to purchase one piece of very important, very expensive art under an assumed name with a designated account. You following me?"
"Yeah, that's where the Olympics are ta
king place right?"
"Yes, but you won't be there for that. You're going to an art show, and then you're going to fly back here."
"Okay. What is this important piece of art?"
"It's by an up and coming artist from Moscow named Phitznas. The piece is a large gold-plated bust with emeralds, diamonds… all sorts of precious stones. There will be several bidders, but your bid will be the highest."
"How much?"
"$550 million."
Victoria choked on her coffee and looked up. While she wasn't familiar with the art world, the thought of spending that much money on one piece blew her mind.
Anatoly rolled his eyes. "Just make the bid under the name that I give you. Our broker will accompany you. You won't have any problems with the transaction. They will take you to the back of the studio to finish the purchase. After that, you will get in the car and be immediately escorted out of the country."
"Is that it?"
"For now. Now, get dressed. I need to go over with you how to make bid, pay and what all is expected of you, and I can't do that with you nearly naked."
Victoria looked down at her lack of clothes and smiled.
Chapter 15
Dmitry, Royal and Anya piled into the family Land Rover and headed into the city for a day of work. It had been months since they had done so, and while the task was simple enough, it brought all of them great joy. They were a family again with things to do and places to go.
Royal sat in the passenger seat going through her to-do list while Dmitry listened to talk radio and drove. Anya watched a movie on the small screen attached to her mothers chair and brushed her dolls hair.
"Will you have lunch with me today?" Dmitry asked.
"Of course," Royal looked up at him with a bright glow on her face. "Anya and I will come over at about noon."
"Good," he rubbed his blonde beard. His mind was wrapped around his secret, boiling inside of him like a guilty stew. He looked over at her, unsuspecting and trusting again and felt a twinge in his stomach. There was nothing worse than deceit.
"Baby, I… " his voice dragged.
"Daddy, will you fix me the bow tie pasta for lunch like on the commercial?" Anya asked, interrupting Dmitry.
"That's Italian food, sweetheart," he said, losing his nerve.
"Well, will you fix it?" her voice was high and eager.
"Yes. I'll send out for it this morning."
"Thanks, Daddy."
Royal looked over at him and put down her notepad. "Is something wrong?" She could see the frown he was trying desperately to hide.
He glanced over at her for a moment and took a deep breath. "No," he said, scooting over in his seat farther away. "Everything is fine. Why do you ask?"
"You have that look on your face."
"What look?"
"Like… I don't know… something's wrong."
Dmitry paused. He could tell her now and watch Royal's new found glow diminish back into a jaded darkness. He could watch her build the wall again—so tall and so thick that he would never be able to break it down, or he could just finish this last deal and move on with their lives.
He smiled wide and bright, his dimples deepened and his bright blue eyes sparkled. "Things couldn't be better, really."
"Sure?"
"Da."
"Okay. I must be losing my women's intuition." Royal smiled and picked her notepad back up.
I must be crazy, Dmitry thought to himself as he focused on the road.
* * *
News from Prague indicated that Anatoly had arrived on yesterday and the Medlov Chateau was located right outside the city. As soon as Dorian received the information, he packed a bag and hopped a private jet to the Czech. He couldn't trust anyone else to do this type of reconnaissance for him. He needed to get up close and personal-see how the enemy lived for himself.
Dorian stared at himself in the mirror of the hotel bathroom, stared at his face, his eyes, his mouth—all slightly aged with time. He wondered who he had become in three years, because he was not at all the man he used to be. He was successful, powerful, rich and still he was empty.
The treacherous murder of Royal Stone had haunted him like a ghost, reminded him that he would burn in hell for his dealings with Ivan and his desire to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to what he knew his long-time friend would do and did do that fateful night.
If he could have, Dorian would have simply avoided Dmitry for the rest of his life. He would have been more than pleased never to mingle or do business in any circle that the Russian dwelled, but it had gone too far. He had to finish this now.
His plan was simple. He would spend exactly one day in Prague meeting with the man who would place the bomb on Dmitry's plane before he left the city, then fly back to Sochi to prepare for the transaction tomorrow.
His liaison would facilitate the buy and once the funds had been confirmed, the Medlov's would request an audience with the go-between, which was him. When he revealed himself, Dmitry would be incensed, but the deal would already have gone through and his clients would be out of the loop.
He would then tell Anatoly where to have his people pick up the shipment and then Dmitry would wage war. Only the Russian will be outgunned, out manned and outsmarted. He will leave Sochi immediately and head back to Prague. Then his private jet will explode and go down in smoke over the Black Sea.
Nothing will be provable except that they had a rivalry. Anatoly will be forced to move on, Dmitry will be dead, and he can finally move on with his own life or what was left of it. There will surely be remnants of an after taste to deal with, even the possibility of the murder of Anatoly. But the biggest threat will be out of the way and either way, the family will fall.
* * *
After dropping Royal and Anya off, Dmitry headed into his restaurant and immediately began to cook. His staffed danced about him as he prepared for a long day and a hot date with the two ladies of his life. While his hands stayed busy, his mind wrapped around him like a thick fog. His son was about to rise to the highest level achievable in organized crime, and he was about to help him.
A few years ago, before the birth of Anya, it would have been his proudest moment. Now, he fought within himself over what he was making a monster of a massive proportions. He would never allow his daughter to break the law even once, and yet he was preparing his son to be the epitome of criminal.
The irony was more than a notion. If he made his son back out, it could cost many people their lives. If he pushed him forward and made sure the deal was completed, it could cost many people their lives. If he did nothing, he could lose his son. If he did anything, he could lose. It would have helped to have Royal to talk to about the matter, since had become his closest confidant and dearest friend. And even though she didn't know it, she was very sound in most of her decisions. She was his rock, and yet he deceived her. His actions made him question his very sanity or at the very least his loyalty.
* * *
Anya played in the mirror, dressed in a pair of her mothers heels, while Royal stood in the dressing room with a duchess and her assistant picking out gowns for an upcoming event. It felt extraordinary to Royal to be back in her favorite place doing what she felt she did best-running her own business. The staff had been surprised to see her but ecstatic for her return.
She immediately started to reorganize the shop, making lists and ordering new products. The day had all but whizzed past her when she looked down are realized that it was half past eleven.
After getting the duchess's order and seeing her out, Royal prepared to go and have lunch with Dmitry. Just as she was about to grab her coat, a tall black man entered into to the shop.
Everyone stopped when the door closed behind him. Royal looked up stunned. It was not as if a black man had never shopped at Royal Flush. It wasn't that he was black at all. It was simply that he was beautiful.
Beautiful people bothered Royal. Ivan was beautiful and rotten. Dmitry was beautiful and dangerous. A
natoly was beautiful and cold.
Now, a strange man entered her shops with his eyes planted on her, and the only word that could possibly describe him was beautiful. But there had to be something else. Beautiful and crazy. Beautiful and gay. Beautiful and what? She could go on but stopped herself. The amusement in her quest was most inappropriate for the time.
The man seemed startled by Royal. It was as if he knew her. She looked over at Anya first, always thinking of her little one. In a quick motion, she snapped her slender, long fingers together and pointed at the back. Obediently, her daughter dashed to the back office without asking one question.
"May I help you?" she finally asked with less than a welcoming smile on her face.
Dorian was lost for words. Her face had been burned into his memory. It was impossible to forget her or her untimely death. It had been the thing that had haunted him for three long years.
It was just dumb luck that once he arrived in Prague he had been told that Dmitry owned not only a restaurant but also a dress shop. He had planned on just stopping in to see some homage paid to a dead girlfriend; instead he had found a living, breathing replica of the woman who had scarred them all.
"Sir?" Royal asked with her hands folded in front of her.
The diamond necklace that Dmitry that bought her years ago to hide the scars Ivan had given her blinded Dorian as he walked closer.
"This is Royal Flush?" he asked in a deep rich Russian baritone that captivated the other women in the shop but worried Royal.
"This is." She stopped in her tracks. "How may we help you?"
Dorian tried hard not to blatantly stare at the striking woman, but he could not help himself. She appeared older, more seasoned, more knowledgeable than the pictures from many years ago. It was her eyes. They were dark and sinister now, no doubt because of Ivan.
"I want to buy a dress for my fiancée," explained. His voice was like silk in an odd baritone.
Ivan had told Dorian about his first experience with Royal many years ago at her previous shop in Memphis, how he had rudely made sexual advances towards her. It was because of this that Dorian was very careful and respectful with his tone though he wanted to ask her a million questions.
Dmitry's Royal Flush: Rise of the Queen Page 13