Plus, Dmitry knew that many young men from his generation were like himself. He would do anything to gain power. Rank meant nothing to him or his men when it truly came to getting what they wanted. The means was not even relevant. Only the end.
Davyd walked in and interrupted Dmitry’s deep thoughts. Rubbing his large hand over his silver-patched beard, the older, muscle-bound man sat down in front of him, grunting as his bones crackled under his weight. The leather squealed a little as he sat back in the chair and huffed.
“Well, how did the meeting fair?” Davyd asked, ready for the worst.
“It went as expected. We have made formidable and permanent enemies. Obviously, I fired them all - except one. He’s a good man. Emerson. Nothing like us,” Dmitry said with a grin. “But I like him. The part of the business that I plan to keep I could see him and Elsa running for me on a day-to-day basis.”
“Elsa?” Davyd asked with a raised brow. “You trust her so soon?”
“Oh, I don’t trust her,” Dmitry said, sitting up. He rocked in his chair. “I want her.”
Davyd laughed. “Any man with eyes could have seen that the moment you laid eyes on her.”
“It’s been too long,” Dmitry said with a nod. “Do you know how hard it is to be faithful to a woman that you’re supposed to have a business arrangement with for two years without one hiccup?”
“I imagine it was torture,” Davyd said with a sly grin.
“It was,” Dmitry answered. “And I had settled in and focused, forgotten about the need until Elsa came breezing through here. Now, I swear that I taste her perfume.”
Davyd chuckled.
“But I don’t know if I should pursue her,” Dmitry added before he could begin to think about her body again.
“Why not?” Davyd asked.
“She’s not just a pawn in this game. Elsa is a young, brilliant, powerful woman. I don’t want to scorn her. The cost could be too great.”
“What does she bring to the table that is remarkable?”
Dmitry sat up in his chair and crossed his long finger. His blue eyes, tired with exhaustion beamed with excitement. “Her father is a very powerful leader in Angola, Africa with MPLA.”
Davyd raised his brow. “Then I see your dilemma then. She’s a gold mine.”
“Da, I need to get in bed more with her father than her,” Dmitry said, instantly changing his focus from sex to money. “The potential there is unlimited. All I have to do is establish a truly sound supply chain, distribution plan and transportation strategy and we can take this local show on the road.” Dmitry’s eyes were wide with ambition.
“I’ve created a monster,” Davyd laughed. “Da, da, brat. This is good plan. Only, how do you plan to get to her father?”
“He sent her to Oxford for an education. He wants only the best for her. When I make her head of my company, he will be very proud, but he will also want to meet me…thank me. Then, when we meet, I will talk to him about his current munitions suppliers and how it would be much better to work with us.” Dmitry’s thick accent could barely cover his excitement.
“So, you have it all figured out, do you?” Davyd said impressed.
“No, I don’t. I have two problems. The men who I just fired are going to retaliate soon. I need this team to handle them accordingly. Secondly, I need the blessing of Khalid Sidorov and Boss Smirnov to go into Russia and deal with the former generals who controlled the bases before the fall of the USSR.”
Davyd’s smile disappeared from his face. “The first request – the assassination of an entire board of directors without detection is going to be a lot easier than coordinating a meeting with Sidorov and Smirnov.”
“I know,” Dmitry said, nodding his head. “That is why I need you to handle that part, brat. Ivan can kill with the best of them, but he is no negotiator. This could make or break us for the rest of our lives.”
“If we do it wrong, we could be dead for the rest of our lives, Dmitry. To even request a meeting…”
Dmitry lifted his finger. “Khalid asked to be put on the board before the end of the year. Why don’t you coordinate the meeting about that with Vladimir? While I’m there, I will talk to him about Smirnov, but I need you there to help facilitate things.”
“Even mentioning Evgeny Smirnov’s name, even mentioning it to his right hand man without proper approval, could get you killed, Dmitry. The fact that you know who he is could get you killed. This is privileged information. It doesn’t matter that you are billionaire in that circle.”
“Then I guess we had better cross our fingers,” Dmitry answered. “We’re going after this, Davyd. The munitions black market is open right now, but the thing that people do not have is money. We can launder it through all of these businesses that I now own, and we can turn around and make our real profit through what we know best.”
Davyd shook his head. “I’m with you.”
Chapter Seven
Oscar Brenneman had never in his life been fired, and the thought that a lanky, uneducated rat from across the globe was able to basically destroy his five-year plan with the snap of his finger infuriated him, but the fact that he did so in front of the very men that he had once controlled forced him to the meeting with the tailor.
Pulling himself from the back of the Hutton Industries company car immediately after he left the meeting with Dmitry, he walked inside a small, bricked store-front tailor shop and took a seat by the window. His assistant stood beside him, holding his hat and coat and looking anxiously around.
“Stop fidgeting,” Brenneman demanded of his assistant. “You are making me nervous for goodness sake. If you don’t have the stomach for this, then go out to the car and wait.” He patted his sweaty forehead with his handkerchief.
“I’ll be fine, sir,” his assistant assured in a low whisper.
A young man, in his mid-twenties, with a conservative hair cut that sleeked his black hair to his head and brought attention to his spikey eye-brows and dark, gloomy eyes, looked over at the pair before he took his client’s inseam. Bending down, he carefully applied the tape and measured.
“I’ll be with you gentlemen momentarily,” he said with a straight-pen in between his stained, jagged teeth.
Brenneman looked at his assistant with a snide grin. “Do you know how to get rid of a rodent?” he asked.
“Pest control?” his assistant answered, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.
“Exactly,” Brenneman said putting one large hulky hand over the other. “And this is the best exterminator in the whole of England. We’ll show these Russian rats how things are really done. I told that overgrown sex toy to sleep with one eye open. Now, he’ll see that I mean everything that I say.”
***
The day was slowly leaving with a hundred things still on his to-do list. Up in his bedroom, Dmitry changed out of his suit and slipped on a comfortable pair of jeans and a sweater. Standing in the mirror, he looked at himself and wondered if his brother was right. Had he changed so dramatically? Leave it to Ivan to get into his head. Shaking it off, he grabbed his keys and went to his massive garage to pick out his fastest sports bike and headed back down the lane towards the city.
His thoughts moved in between what he had to do with the business and to his mysterious Elsa. There was much to be accounted for with his new pseudo-love interests. Coincidentally, he knew a private eye in the heart of the city who could give him a full report on his future CEO. Only, he wanted this done covertly.
If Vladimir got wind of him checking up on her, he might get offended and not offer him a meeting with his father, and if she found out, she might not be as pliable in his hands. Women thrived on trust. To them, it was a two way street of give and take, and even if he had to give just the perception of trust, he knew that he had to give her something. This was why he had to arrange this part of his operation himself. Plus, the PI that he had hired had some new information for him on Brenneman.
Dmitry may have been ine
xperienced in legitimate business, but he had thrived on Intel for many years in the Vor. It was because of his prior knowledge that he had hired someone to follow the board members, specifically Brenneman. When he made the slightest move, Dmitry would know about it and use it against him.
The feel of the wind against his skin freed Dmitry from the invisible hold of his new life. Taking deep breaths, he let his mind clear itself for the moment as he rode through the lush countryside. He needed this, needed to see the beauty of the world before he began a campaign to destroy it. Because while he could not deny who he was, he also could not deny that a part of him acknowledged that it was wrong. Still, what could he do? Walk away? From his oath? From his code? It would be easier to live without food or water, without air in his lungs. No one walked away from the Vory, not even a new billionaire. Therefore, if he could not run from it, he would stay and run it.
As he rode through the land that was now his, it also occurred to him truly for the first time what he had acquired. Three years ago, he did not even own a vehicle, now he was a billionaire. What did that mean, really?
What had happened that made him different from the man he was before? Was it the fact that he had six homes? Was it the fact that he owned 12 cars and three motorcycles? Was it the fact that he owned so many businesses? Did any of that change his DNA? Did any of what he inherited change who he vowed to be or what he had be forced to endure? He did not think so.
He made a promise to himself right then to never stray far from the man who was forced to walk miles in the snow to a little village after barely escaping the clutches of prison. No matter what, he would never forget who he was.
***
After meeting with his private investigator, he drove his bike down through the streets of busy London and parked in the alleyway across from Hutton Industries. Getting off the bike, he walked to the small deli. Immediately, all eyes went to the giant. The women whirled around in their seats, and the men looked on jealously in envy.
Grabbing a seat by the window, he ordered from the one-page, laminated menu and watched the building doors for Elsa to come out. There was no plan really. He just had a hunch. He wanted to know more for himself about her, and about her relationship with Vladimir, though he was sure that the PI would not be able to get that information for him. So, he was here at the restaurant starting that part of the investigation for himself.
When Davyd had asked him earlier that day if he trusted Elsa, he had said no, but he had avoided telling his dear friend that he wanted to trust her. However, he had learned that being trusting was a luxury that he did not have. Everyone had an ulterior motive. No one was without a price.
He sat in the window seat for a couple of hours, never taking his gaze off the windows, except to look at his food or check his surroundings. As long as he did not stand up, he went undetected with only a few stares from women who caught a glimpse of him head on. The waiting also gave him more time to think about his plans.
After a significant amount of time had passed, as the sun began to set on the horizon, through the golden doors of Hutton Industries, the tall, statuesque Elsa emerged with a pair of brown shades over her eyes and a handful of papers in her arms. Dmitry’s Bentley was there to collect her, and on cue the chauffeur popped out of the car and opened the door for her to slide in the back and be carted away.
Jumping up from his seat, he dropped the money on the table and then quickly ducked out the door to the alley where his bike was. In the hectic, rush-hour traffic, he was able to tail them without being noticed. Curiously, he was led only about ten blocks away from the office to another high-rise apartment building, where the car parked out front and she briskly got out and ran inside.
Dmitry automatically assumed that Vladimir had to live in this building based upon the bodyguards who stood outside, undetectable to the untrained eye but obvious to him. He again parked and looked for a place to wait.
Grabbing a newspaper, he sat down on a wooden street bench almost a block from the building, but still in good view. This time he waited impatiently.
The idea of Elsa checking in with Vladimir caused a strain in his chest. He couldn’t decide if it felt like jealousy or deceit or a mixture of the two, but he was certain that he didn’t like it.
Trying to control his racing heart and his desire to go into the building after her, he finally focused on the newspaper and realized that there was a picture of him on the front page of the business section. He shook his head in disgust.
According to this reporter, the young, blond stud was going to be the end of Hutton Industries. What sources? Well, at least they had it half way right. He might be the end of Hutton Industries, but he’d be the beginning of Medlov Enterprises.
Half an hour later, Elsa emerged again in the same manner as before with another hand full of paperwork. After loading into the back of the car, she quickly disappeared into the busy streets, probably headed back to his home.
Dmitry waited for a minute this time, finishing the article about himself in before getting on his bike and heading back to pick a bone with his new play thing. He had to remember to remain calm and stay objective, but as the day went on it was getting nearly impossible to do.
***
As the sun set, Dorian and his team settled into the guest house behind the Medlov house for the evening. Dmitry had given them the quarters temporarily until all the jobs required had been done. It was a step up from anything the team had done before. Most of the time they stayed in old, broken-down hotels or hostels. However, Dmitry made sure that they were fed, catered to by his staff and within his grasp at all times. Tired from hours of discussion on the best possible ways to pull off a mass hit, they all dispersed to their rooms…all except Arie.
As soon as she heard her brother’s body thud against the bed next door to her own, she jumped up and snuck quietly out of the window. Lowering herself down with the rope in her backpack, she landed on the manicured lawn like a cat and hiked back in the shadows to the castle.
Opening the back door quietly, she entered in kitchen and slowly inched through the dark corridor until she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see Ivan standing by a doorway, waiting for her.
“Took you long enough,” he said with a glimmer in his majestic eyes. Even in a low tone, his voice boomed through the hallways.
She smiled. “Impatience is a virtue.”
Anxious to get on with the night, Ivan led her up to his bedroom on the west wing of the house, far from his brother’s iron grip. The entire floor was his, equipped with an office, a small workout room, an entertainment room and a two bedrooms. Dmitry had set it up so that not only would his brother not be disturbed on his visits but also Ivan would have no reason to disturb anyone else.
They walked quietly through the dimly lit halls side-by-side, much unlike Ivan. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. With every step and every move, he saw the contours of her short body, perfectly sculpted into a unique masterpiece. He licked his lips as they arrived to his room, hungry to taste his prize.
With his index finger, he pushed the door open. It creaked as it hit the doorstop. “After you,” he said, following her inside.
Arie looked around. “Fancy,” she said, nodding in approval. “You all live like kings. It must be nice.”
“Dmitry lives like a king. I just stay here when I’m summoned,” he answered, closing the door behind him. The gears in his head changed. “So, my brother wants me to keep it in my pants until this thing is over, and I’m sure your brother would prefer you keep your legs closed until you’re married. But we’re both about to break the rules, eh.” Crossing his arms in front of him, he guarded the door just in case she changed her mind. It was too late to turn back now, whether she liked it or not.
Arie looked up at him and smiled. There were no signs of nervousness on her face or in her body language. In fact, she looked comfortable with him. “Only if you answer my question correctly,” she said, sitting on his large oak
bed. Her little feet dangled a few inches from the ground as she kicked off her shoes.
“I’m listening,” he said, pealing out of his shirt to reveal his taut muscles.
“Do you like it roughhhhhh?” she asked, biting her lip. “Because if you don’t, you might want to put that shirt back on. There is no way I’m not going to tear through your flesh tonight, Vor.”
Ivan could feel himself hardening with her every word. He rubbed his erection. “Oh, you have no idea how rough I like it. I’m not into love making, sweetheart. I plan to fuck you until your nose bleeds.”
Arie laughed at his incredulous statement. “Don’t be so sure that you’re even capable of making my nose bleed or for that matter making me come. See, I’ve seen a million men like you. You think you’re tough when everyone’s looking but under fire, under pressure, undercover…all of you motherfuckers fold.”
Ivan walked up to the bed, bent down gently and suddenly grabbed her by her fragile neck roughly cutting off her air supply. He could feel her heartbeat thudding through the veins right above her clavicle bone, but he did not feel her tremble, which was odd considering his grip.
The Chronicles of Young Dmitry Medlov: Book One Page 18