Dmitry's Closet (15 page)

     Royal changed gears. "What did Kirill do for you?"

     "He traded in very expensive machinery."

     "What kind?" Her eyes narrowed.

     "All kinds."

     "Uh huh. You know what I find odd?" she asked angrily.

     "Whatever you are thinking, stop it. Everything is fine."

     "Of course, it's
fine.
There was nearly a gun fight in my store, but everything is just
fine."
She rolled her eyes.

     "I'll take care of it," he assured her. His voice was softer now.

     "Take care of what? Everything is supposed to be
fine.
Remember?"

     "It is."

     "You keep saying that, but it's not true. I know it in my gut. You said that you would never lie to
me... just couldn't tell me everything.
But you're lying to me!" Tears ran down her face.

     "Royal," Dmitry looked down at the ground. He couldn't find the right words to soothe her.

     Royal looked up at him. She clenched her jaw and wiped the tears from her face. "You can't marry me. You can't tell me anything that's worth knowing. You only move with bodyguards. And everything is
fine?
Really? Tell me that I can trust you, Dmitry. Look me in my face,
in my eye
and tell me that I haven't made some big mistake in loving you - a man who is supposed to love me so much but can't even give me a straight answer even when my life is in danger."

     Her words cut through him like metal to bone.

     "Your life was never in danger. You are overreacting."

     "Bullshit."

     He raised his brow.

     "If you really loved me." she continued.

     Dmitry interrupted. "So now you're questioning my love for you?"

     Royal didn't answer him, but she did raise her brow, mimicking him.

     "I can understand that you're upset," he explained.

     "Can you? You seemed almost pissed that I would even question you about it. I'm just supposed to follow you blindly. Is that it? Well, I won't. I want a fucking answer."

     He sighed. "Royal, I've always taken care of you. That hasn't changed, because my brother came in here and acted an ass today. Yes, you can trust me. No, I cannot marry you, and as painful as that sounds it has nothing at all to do with what is going on here at this very moment."

     "Another lie," Royal said, under her breath.

     "Look, certain parts of my life are
notyour
business, like it or not. I didn't hire you to be detective. I hired shop girl. You let me know when that becomes problem for you. And we'll find something else for you to do."

     The tears ran freely down Royal's face as his ice cold words destroyed her. She crossed her arms and looked away.

     "Oh, I'll let you know."

     Dmitry retracted. He could tell that they were headed towards an argument. "If you only knew how much I had to overcome to be with you—you would not..." he stopped himself. He saw that he had wounded her far too deeply. "No, you have not made a mistake in loving me, just in doubting me, which infuriates me so much that I must excuse myself now."

     Fuming, Dmitry turned and walked back out of the office leaving Royal there in silence and tears. She did not chase after him. He did not expect her to do so. She was as stubborn as he was, unable to bend to his will.

     Cory and Renée watched as the back door flung open, and Dmitry glided to the front entrance, visibly brooding over the concealed argument that had just taken place. He looked as if he could kill someone. Then suddenly he stopped and turned towards them stone faced.

     "Close the shop for rest of day," he ordered, looking at Cory.

     "Will do," Cory replied.

     Then quietly, Dmitry left. The doorbell jingled as the last of the Russians emptied out of Royal's now somewhat disheveled dress shop.

     There was a sigh of relief.

     Unable to hold back their curiosity or concern, both Cory and Renée ran to the back to check on Royal.

Chapter 10

     Dmitry had ordered Anatoly to take Ivan and his men to the basement of the restaurant. They waited there now unarmed for the boss while more of Dmitry's own men flooded into the basement with them.

     Anatoly watched them carefully, never speaking a word, only occasionally looking at his Patek watch. He knew what was keeping his father. Royal. The question was had he managed in all of this to keep her. He would know as soon as he arrived, based upon the body count.

     There had been many horrifying stories of the great Dmitry Medlov, as cruel as he was beautiful, as cold as he was cunning. The men had whispered about him the entire trip down to Memphis. There were many stories about the infamous crime boss all over the states, the UK and Moscow. But one could easily mistake his kindness for weakness because of his charisma and his ever graceful demeanor.

     Then there was his brother, Ivan Medlov. The story in New York and in Moscow was that Dmitry had raised Ivan, but since he was a boy, he had been a hot head. The brothers had fought back and forth over the years about many things.

     One night, after a deal went bad because of Ivan's antics, to make a point, Dmitry cut his brother's throat just enough to leave him in the hospital, but promised to finish the job if he ever crossed him again.

     Dmitry left New York while Ivan was yet in the hospital and moved to Memphis in search of another new start. The only way that Ivan gained control over the Bronx was because Dmitry left it for him. However, since Dmitry had been away from New York, Ivan had gained the favoritism of the decision makers there and had proven himself to be nearly as formidable.

     The door finally opened, and Dmitry stormed in and slammed it behind him. His men looked over at their general, watched the perspiration on his forehead, heard his hurried breath, and watched his twitching eye. He had walked from the boutique.
A sure sign of danger.
It was subtle anger that they knew to worry about, subtle anger like this. A man like Dmitry never was irate. His coldness was only reflected in the manner in which he destroyed.

     Dmitry instantly made eye contact with Ivan, who was even quiet now. He walked over to Anatoly and said something under his breath, then walked over to the head of the table where he sat down. He leaned his long body forward under the large light and grinded his teeth together.

     "Before I even get to how badly you have already fucked up Ivan, I want to skip to finding out who the hell these men are," he said, placing his elbows on the table and crossing his fingers.

     "These are my men," Ivan said, still somewhat smug. He turned around and gave the men a big smile, then turned to his brother again. "Consider them value added."

     "As in extra value to me, brother?" Dmitry smiled.

     "Dah." Ivan smiled.

     Dmitry smirked. "Many of you in this room don't know but my brother is psychopath." He over enunciated the words as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "When he was young man, I had him evaluated by woman I was seeing who was doctor. She told me that men like him have no feelings or remorse. They are very callous creatures."

     "That bitch was just upset because I did not find her attractive," Ivan said conversely.

     Dmitry sighed. "However, one thing that he does understand is loss of assets. He learned value of dollar much earlier in life than he learned appreciation for human life. So, he would covet an object so much until, he would start to love it, but he could never love person. This was true even in grade school for him."

     "Ah... there was one I loved, brother," Ivan corrected softly.

    
"Dah,
another psychopath." Their eyes locked. Dmitry smiled and then continued as the men listened on carefully unsure of why the boss was revealing such deep intimate secrets about his only next of kin to them—peons.

     "Anyway, I said all that to say that you follow him blindly, and all the way to Memphis not knowing that he does not give damn about you. He never will. He only covets something that it will require you to take from someone else. He will not pay you what you are worth to keep you.

     "He does not care if one or all of you are injured just so long as someone can replace you. You are not Vor, so he has no oath to you. This is why he calls you value added. You all have come as a bonus, nearly free of charge to him. And none of you, regardless of whose womb you slid out of, matter here."

     Ivan's men looked at Ivan and each other curiously, but did not change their protective stance behind him. Dmitry shook his head and Ivan smirked, not denying any part of what his brother had just divulged.

     "Plus, he put you in a very precarious situation. Because you are not Vor, I don't know you. You could be spies, cops… Brighton Beach." Dmitry shrugged his shoulders. "And you come down here and create problem for me with someone that can't be fixed very easily."

     Deviously, he looked at Anatoly and hunched his large shoulders. "It is unnerving. My anger is nearly beyond control and someone has to pay." His voice was calm.

     "One thing I forgot to tell the men was how you love to give long lectures," Ivan said sarcastically. "Next time, I'll tell them to bring notebooks."

     Dmitry stood back up with his hands behind his back and walked midway of the long table and leaned against it. He ignored Ivan's smug comment, understanding that it was his way of dealing with discomfort.

     "No smart men would come into their boss'
boss'
place with guns and present a problem unless they were only loyal to the latter. And I can't have that. Can I? My men are only loyal to me. And you have proven that you are only loyal to him.
And
you have proven that you can piss me off quicker than you can tell me your names, which by the way, I don't even know. And don't want to know."

     The men started to fidget, realizing the grave error that Ivan had caused them to make. Dmitry's men spread further across the room in attack position. Ivan's men started to step back into the room, while he only rolled his eyes.

     "I guess what I'm saying gentlemen," Dmitry pulled his arm from around his back and pointed the gun with the silencer at Ivan, "... is that I don't need value added."

     He pulled the trigger slightly away from his brother's face and shot each of the three men in the head quicker than they could start to flee. Their bodies fell quietly as the blood splattered across the walls.

     Ivan did not blink. He swallowed hard and a sighed and he looked behind him again. He shook his head in utter disgust. The smug smile was gone.

     "I just paid them thousands of dollars. You could have at least given me until next month—until they worked it off," Ivan said hastily. He turned around from the dead bodies pissed. "You have cost me large sum of money, brother." His anger was sincere. His tone much different now. It seemed his loss pained him. "I don't have their account numbers. It will take me weeks to track the money down, if it's not already spent."

     Dmitry looked at the bodies and his little brother and sighed. He turned around and looked at his men all staring in bewilderment at the strange turn of events.

     "Like I told you... a fucking psychopath," Dmitry said, passing the gun to Anatoly. "You all get rid of the bodies," he said to the men. "Anatoly... Ivan... you both come with me."

Chapter 11

     Renée and Cory decided to stay after the store was closed and retired upstairs to Royal's apartment, a place that they had never been invited before, but desperately wanted to see. Royal was happy to have them; having been shaken up so badly, she didn't want to be alone. They followed her upstairs, nudging each other as they got closer. When they reached the large, heavily decorated double doors, they knew that the inside had to be spectacular, because even the entrance was grand in scale.

     Taking her shoes off at the front door, Royal invited the two in for a glass of wine.

     "Wow, girl! This is so beautiful," Renée said, looking around the elaborately decorated loft that had been recently filled with more gifts from Dmitry's various business trips.

     Renée marveled at the large crystal chandelier high above them in the vaulted ceilings reinforced by exposed, lacquered timber and brick in grid patterns. Below the hanging chandelier was a beautiful leather and chenille sectional with a matching oversized leather ottoman in front of a beautiful limestone fireplace. Exquisite bouquets of fresh flowers filled the room along with paintings of beautiful country sides. It looked like a scene from an upscale interior decorator magazine.

     "This is so European villa," Cory said, rubbing his hand over the marble-topped tables. "I'm talking really expensive."

     "Well, Dmitry has great taste," Royal admitted, admiring the place herself. She was humbled every time that she entered into the apartment, bemused by the fact that it was her home.

     "You can make yourself at home in here," Royal said, escorting them.

     After taking off their own shoes, they followed Royal to the dinning room hidden behind two stain-glassed doors. The room was painted in a warm khaki color, illuminated by an equally beautiful black tiered iron chandelier that hung from a lower ceiling covered in timber and highlighted with only dim receding lights. The room had no windows, which gave it a cozy intimacy, and it was sprinkled with color in the large area rug, accent chairs and large painting of St. Basil's Cathedral in the Red Square.

     Royal pulled out her finest crystal flutes and a bottle of Chateau Petrus that Dmitry had bought her last week when he had come home from a meeting in California. He actually had brought her a case, which is why she hadn't minded sharing one bottle with her friends considering that had all been through a bonding experience downstairs.

     She sat down at the round table and plopped comfortably in her plush chair. Pouring hefty glasses, she pushed the flutes around the table to Cory and Renée. This was the first time that anyone besides Dmitry had ever been in her apartment. The company was welcome by Royal, even it if was under the duress of such a hectic and unusual day.