“Well, I was actually just grabbing a drink and relaxing for a little bit before I headed back home.”
“Where’s home?” she asked, raising her perfectly-arched eyebrow suggestively at him.
***
After dinner and the family gathering in the great room, Gabriel retired to his bedroom. With so much on his mind, it was impossible to sleep, but he knew better than to actually sit and write anything down or use the computer. The room could be bugged, the phones tapped. It was best to just rest. However, there was something more curious on his brain than the investigation at the moment. The little blonde French woman with the beautiful accent down the hall had him vexed. Briggy.
He laid back in the bed and looked up at the ceiling. His heart was heavier than when he arrived. These people, who were supposed to be monsters, who were supposed to make this easy to do, were not monsters, were welcoming and warm.
Having spent most of his life alone or with his mother as a youth, it was hard to grasp that all of these people were his family. How he wanted this to be under different circumstances.
There was a soft knock on the door that tore him out of his thoughts. He sat up on the end of the bed.
“Yeah,” he said curiously.
The door opened and Briggy appeared. With a smile, she stopped just beyond his threshold.
“Do you need anything before your evening is completely over?” she asked with a blush.
Gabriel popped up. He looked around the room and shoved his large hands in his pocket. “Don’t think so.”
“Alright, well breakfast will be brought in the morning around seven,” she said, bowing back out.
Gabriel reached out to her. “Before you go...”
“Yes?” Briggy said bright eyed.
“What are you doing for dinner tomorrow night?” He walked up to her.
She looked up at him and swallowed hard. “Serving the family and washing my hair.”
He laughed. “After you serve the family and wash your hair?”
“Gabriel, I like you, but you obviously don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?” He stepped back. What was wrong with her?
“I was once Anatoly’s friend.” She didn’t blink, and she did not make her confession with pride. Instead, she stood waiting for his approval.
He quickly gave it. “Do you guys have any kids together or something?” he asked with a frown.
“No.” She laughed. “No. It was over as quickly as it began. It was just a fling, at least for him.”
Gabriel nodded. “Let me guess. He dumped you.”
She nodded. “Oui, he is such a gentleman,” she said sarcastically.
Gabriel laughed and bent down lower to her. “I don’t care about that or about my cousin. I like you. And I think it would be really cool if we got together for dinner tomorrow night. You could show me the city, and I could be around someone who isn’t either my family member or someone’s bodyguard.”
She laughed. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He moved her blonde tends from her face. “I have to confess that I want to kiss you right now.” His voice was low, sexy.
She bit her lip. “Maybe I’ll let you tomorrow. Maybe. Now, bonsoir.”
“Goodnight,” he said, standing back up. “I can’t wait until tomorrow...to get that kiss.”
She closed the door behind her and left him in his room.
***
Anatoly looked at his watch and asked for his tab. The waitress came over quickly to him and shook her head. “No charge, Mr. Medlov,” she said smiling. “It was a pleasure to serve you.”
Anatoly smiled and past her a wad of money. “A tip for you, love,” he said, standing up.
The blonde sitting beside him stood up also. She licked her lips and pulled her short dress down over her slender hips. She was at least a few inches taller than he, but Anatoly knew that it wouldn’t matter back at the condo.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, motioning towards the door.
“Sure. Let me just let my friend know that I won’t be coming back,” she screamed above the crowd.
Anatoly waited as she headed towards a booth on the other side of the bar. Wouldn’t be coming back was a stretch. He didn’t want her to spend the night with him. In fact, they could have really handled this in the bathroom as far as he was concerned.
Sitting against the table, he yawned and noticed that his supermodel was approaching with a man following behind her.
“Hi honey.” She waved as she came back to him. “This is my friend, Yarveene. He’s sort of like my bodyguard. I told him that you would be taking me out tonight.”
Yarveene, a tall, stout brunette raised his hand to shake Anatoly’s, but he didn’t offer it. Instead, Anatoly stood up and smirked.
“You want to go home with me, cool. But I’m not fucking paying for it,” he said, ignoring Yarveene.
“No, no. I think you have the wrong idea,” the woman explained.
“Do I?” Anatoly finally looked at Yarveene, who had stuck his chest out a little further. “How much does she cost?”
“5000 Kč for all night,” Yarveene answered.
Anatoly could barely hold his laughter. He moved closer into the man, invading his space. “I’m not paying for her—period.” He looked at the woman. “Do you want to go or what? I don’t have all night.”
Her eyes said yes, but he could tell that she was very much afraid of her pimp. She peed back out of the way.
Anatoly sized the man up and smiled.
Chapter Eighteen
Morning came early at the Medlov chateau. Pulling the warm comforter from his legs, Gabriel checked his watch. 6:30 a.m. He had just enough time to do his morning calisthenics and jump in the shower before she came.
He tossed and turned the entire night with thoughts of her drowning him. A grown man wasn’t supposed to think of a kiss like this, but all that clouded his mind were her lips. He wanted so badly to kiss her the night before, to taste the sweet nectar of her warm mouth. Oddly enough, he hadn’t even thought about making love to her, as he normally would have. Instead, he just wanted to kiss her. That would be enough.
Getting down on the hardwood floor in front of the fireplace, he planted his hands shoulder-width apart and pushed his body up and down against his own weight. One push up after another, he stretched his bulging muscles to the brink and his mind continued to race.
He was supposed to be here to find out where the drugs were. That was why he taken this case. . A confidential informant had contacted the DEA regarding large shipments of cocaine that was being transported into the states from the south by the Medlov family. The leak had reported that it was being smuggled by Anatoly Medlov under instruction of his father. Yet, everything that he had heard was about guns. No drugs. And he wasn’t the ATF. So far, not one mention had been made about the shipments. Had all of this been done for nothing? Was he destroying this family for nothing at all?
Then thoughts of Victoria crossed his mind. She had been an innocent. What about her? Wasn’t he supposed to give a damn about her murder?
Rolling over on his back, he pushed through his sit ups. The sweat began to pour down his body. The muscles tensed up and burned. Breathing through the pain, he crunched his abdomen tightly, exhaling out of his mouth.
What about his father? His father had been the one who had taught him the Medlov way before any of them. Then, Ivan had found out what he was. A leak in his own organization had tipped his father off and told him that his son was a federal agent. When he had gone to training, when he had been accepted into the DEA, he had told his father that he was going off a few months to get some things clear in his head. He had lied to him and told him that if he didn’t hear from him, it was because he just needed some time. And that excuse had been enough. But when he had arrived back, a few months into being undercover, his father had found out.
The news had nearly killed Ivan. He came to him one night, snuck into his small one
-room apartment and put a gun to his head. With every intention to kill him—to murder his only child. But the murderer, the psychopath could not do it. He sat on the side of his bed weeping. When Gabriel had awakened, his father had stopped crying and disowned him, told him that he was leaving for Memphis and his fate was his own. That had broken his heart a great deal more than his father wanting to kill himgun tnever heard from him again. Word had traveled shortly after that Ivan had been killed by his brother’s son.
To this day, he still didn’t know why he had chosen one side instead of the other. He was after all a Medlov. It would have been easier to go the easier path, to be his father’s pupil. But his mother’s teachings had been the fuel for the fire deep inside of him. She had preached righteousness and justice to him his entire life. And in the background, his father had preached the opposite. He could still hear his voice even now. “Gabriel, this world functions on greed and power. If you think any differently, if you function any differently, it will consume you. And you will be forgotten,” Ivan would say to him, even as a child.
He rested his head back as he panted, thinking of his dilemma. No, it was more than a dilemma. It was it an all-consuming situation that would end either with him overcoming it or dying. He had to face that fact. He had to know deep inside that he was more than likely headed to his own early death, if he continued. Because the Medlov’s had proven so far that they were larger than anything he was a part of. They traveled the world like he traveled the subway. They owned banks. He barely had a checking account. They lived by the Vory v Zakone’s code. He worked for the very government that they swore to hate. How could he not be headed toward his death? And in truth, he was ashamed of it, ashamed of the side that he had chosen.
There was a knock on the door. He looked at his watch quickly and realized that all of his thinking had pushed him past getting at shower. It was 7:00.
The door opened and Briggy came in with a bright smile. She looked down at him on the ground and stopped. “Are you alright?” she asked pushing the tray in front of her.
He sat up and pushed his back against the bed. “Yeah, I was working out.”
“I can see that,” she said, closing the door. “It’s the look in your eyes. You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
***
Royal sat in the middle of the bed still looking at the picture of the woman who was her mother. She had stared at the picture all night. In her mind, she had thought about what she would say to her when she found her.
Dmitry came out of the bathroom dripping wet with a towel wrapped around his waist. He stopped at the door and leaned against it.
“You’re still looking at the photo?” he asked.
She looked up at him and smiled. “I just can’t believe it, Dmitry. How did he get it? You’ve been trying to track her down for years.”
Dmitry hid his jealously quickly. “Maybe it was just meant for him to find.”
“Did you see him last night? He was like a boy who had just found his home. He fits in perfectly here.”
“So, you like him now?” Dmitry asked, pulling his towel . “Don’t want me to kill him?”
“Something about him is right...I can’t explain it. He’s a good boy.” She ignored his constant reminder of her growing harshness of others.
Dmitry nodded. “There is one thing that I’m certain of and that is that he is not like his father.”
“Thank God,” she said with a sigh.
Dmitry walked over to the bed and crawled in with her. Naked, he pulled her body up in between his legs still damp with shower water and kissed the top of her head. She ran her hands down his hairy thighs and shook her head.
“I’m so happy, baby,” she said with tears in her eyes.
“It’s the hormones,” he explained, massaging her small shoulders. He had become extremely accustomed to outbursts of both happiness and sadness from his pregnant wife.
“No, it’s more than that. Everything around me seems right. Last night seemed so peaceful with the entire family here. Waking up this morning with a full house of people seemed so right. Having this baby... Even Gabriel.” Suddenly, she was overwhelmed again.
Dmitry chuckled. “Sounds to me like you have a lot of joy bundled up inside of there.” He rubbed her stomach. “Having a boy will do that do you.”
“I do feel happy...even though it’s a girl.” She felt his strong hand slip over hers. “I love you,” she confessed in a state of pure euphoria.
Dmitry carefully turned her around to face him, straddling her body over his long legs. “Let me look at you,” he said gruffly. His sparkling eyes flitted over her, instantly causing her blood to boil.
Running his hands over her half-buttoned pajama top up to her neck, he pulled her precious face to his and kissed her full mouth slowly. “I love you, too,” he said softly. His deep voice vibrated in her chest. “I love you with all of me.” He said this with his eyes open, staring right into her soul.
She raked her nails over his chest, on top of his tattooed pec muscle, feeling his lion-like heart beat hard and strong. He was all man, every inch of him.
As she drifted into his kiss, she felt him slowly adjusting her legs, moving her over his erection. His large hands cupped her bottom and squeezed tightly the extra pounds she had lovingly put on.
He had said I love you to her a million times, but each time it sent warm butterflies down to the core of her. There was something so dramatically spectacular about him. The knowledge of being adored by a man like him was mind blowing. And yet each day, she tried to understand it, to comprehend him. And each day, he did something else even more outstanding.
The flame of her hot body agst his own immediately began to ignite his insatiable passion. Pulling her clothes from her body, he ran his hands over her bare skin and moaned. His thumbs brushed against her pebbled nipples, and he rested them there while he spoke.
“I want you again,” he said with a grin. The long dimples in his cheek emerged. “And again,” he said, undressing her. “And again.” With a strong grip, he curled his fingers around the sides of her underwear and tore them off. His signature move. He licked his lips and pulled the lace from between her legs as if her undergarments were a diaper.
“Why do you always do that?” she asked, looking at her panties. “I loved those underwear.”
“Umm. I love them, too,” he said, dropping them on the floor beside the bed.
The wet silk from her sex slid down his inner thighs and made Dmitry forget all about her playful banter. Raising her up in the air as if she were a feather, he planted her on the tip of his erection.
“Ease down on it,” he commanded, resting his head back on the headboard. Closing his eyes, he felt her body stretch around his own. “No more talk of nephews, Malenʹkaya zhenshchina. All I want to hear now is my wife in pleasure.” His accent made the act sound even more erotic.
“How can you even call me a little woman now, as big as I’m getting?” she asked with her eyes closed shut.
“You are perfect size.” His hips pulled back and drove inside of her. The words lingered on his lips. “Perfect.”
***
When Anatoly’s eyes popped open and he realized that he was in the same bed that he had once spent with Victoria, he jumped up. For a minute, he could smell her perfume. Chanel. He could see her perfect mahogany face smiling at him. He wiped his eyes and pulled the comforter from his legs.
“Stop fucking with me,” he said to himself as he stood up.
“Did I do something wrong?” the blonde asked, peeking her head from under the cover. She blinked hard at him, trying to understand his sudden mood.
Anatoly didn’t look back at her or respond. Instead, he bolted into the restroom and slammed the door behind himself.
What was wrong with him? He’d killed a hundred times for his father, for his organization, for his family. And to add insult to injury, he had not even killed her. His father had done the job for him. However since
that day, he wondered if his father had done it because he knew that he could not. Was he getting soft or was he going crazy?
The cold water splashed against his face and over his stubby beard. He stared at himself in the mirror, judging himself harshly in his mind.
Nothing made sense anymore. He had beaten the shit out of the pimp at the club last night. However, it had done little to cool his red-hot temper. And he had taken the man’s whore and brought her here with every intention of screwing her blind, but instead, they had talked all night. He couldn’t bring himself to touch her. Why? The answer was ridiculous but true. Renee.
“Get a fucking grip, you pussy,” he said to himself as he jumped in the shower.
The woman tapped her knuckles on the bathroom door. “Mr. Medlov, I’m going to leave now,” she said, listening for him to say something...anything.
He ran his hand over his face and scowled. “Da da,” he said gruffly. “Lock the door when you leave.”
There was silence on the other side of the door as she waited. Evidently, even though he had gotten rid of her pimp, she still expected payment.
“And be a smart girl and don’t take anything on your way out,” he said, adjusting the shower jets. Dismissing the very thought of her, he grabbed the soap and washed the dried blood from under his nails.
The water was cold by the time that he pulled himself out of the shower. His mind had raced from Prague to Memphis, and he had arrived at one conclusion. He had to call her.
After getting dressed, he headed downstairs in the lonely condo, down the quiet halls on his bare feet, missing his dogs and wishing for her voice. The kitchen was spotless. It was an aesthetic temple of expensive monochromic appliances and pewter-colored countertops, of abstract paintings and muted walls of absence. However, while it passed for expensive taste and fine living, it did not pass for the southern grace of his mansion in Memphis. This place was not warm, was not pleasant. It was a testament to modern living, a picture for an architectural digest. It made him lonely. It made him ache inside for the human touch, for laughter, for conversation.
Anatoly Medlov: Complete Reign Page 17