Dmitry's Closet (14 page)

     "Do I look like a possession to you?" she snapped.

     "Yes, you do actually. The big question is how much does a woman like you cost?"

     "Is that a racist comment? You actually had the balls to walk into a shop and speak to a black woman about how much she costs?"

     The man smiled, revealing deep dimples. "That was not racist comment. I was giving you compliment. Would you like to hear a racist comment? I have many."

     "Only if at the end, you go screw yourself." Royal snapped.

     "Oh, I'd rather fuck you." A smile crossed his lips. "And I'm sure that I could do a better job than that anal nut job of a boyfriend you've got."

     She looked into his eyes and saw a stir of something dangerous. That had hit a nerve. He was a typical chauvinist, unable to deal with the directness of a confident woman.

     He watched her like a vampire as her blood pressure boiled. The veins in her neck protruded out. The pulsating rhythm of her body could be seen through deep breaths that she took making her breasts rise and fall under the golden silk.

     Royal reached below the counter and hit the panic button. Just in case he was a psychotic as he seemed, she would need help. Her heart beat so loud and fast; she could hear it in her ears and feel it pushing out the confines of her chest. Calmly, she looked back up at him and rolled her eyes.

     Exceedingly grateful when Renée and Cory came out from the back, she literally belted out a sigh of relief. The man looked over at her and smirked. Her fear was like some loud perfume sprayed all around him. Hard to ignore or escape. He took a deep breath, trying to inhale it all.

     To Royal, his eyes looked liked they belonged to a wolf. That's what he reminded her of, a predator. He looked at her like he wanted to eat her alive. He turned his stare from Royal to Cory, who nearly halted in his tracks when they made eye contact. Renée quickly inched up beside Royal and stood behind the counter.

     "Who is this?" Renée asked, equally intimidated.

     "This is... I didn't get your name," Royal said, stepping back from the counter.

     "Ivan Medlov. I'm Kirill's replacement," he said menacingly as he looked over and sized up Cory. "Who's the fag?" he asked.

     Royal looked at Ivan in shock. A Medlov? Really? The similarity was evident, but Dmitry had never mentioned him. Why? She divulged something as precious as her sister's memory to him, the murder of a perfectly dreadful man by her own hand, and he failed to admit to having a living, breathing blood relative outside of Anatoly? She found his secret cruel. Regardless of how absolutely revolting Ivan was she still felt betrayed by his careless omission.

     Ivan turned around and caught her curious frown. It wasn't the same angry scowl from a minute ago. He instantly put the pieces of her puzzle together and smiled.

     "You didn't know about me, did you?" he asked enjoying watching her realize his connection.

     Royal did not respond.

     "You know, if you'd like to know more... about the Medlov men, I can take you out for drink. Get us room and show you ."

     "I'm not interested," she interrupted.

     "You sure?" he raised his brow.

     Cory walked over to the counter and stood with Royal. Grabbing her hand, he smiled. "If we can't help you with anything else, then we're going to have to ask you to leave."

     "Aren't you cute," Ivan said sarcastically to Cory. "Where's your little leash?"

     Cory's eye twitched a little, but he didn't move. "And if you need to get in touch with Mr. Medlov, you can leave your number here, and we can pass it on to him."

     "A number?" Ivan asked.

     "Yes," Cory answered irritated.

     "Oh. Okay," Ivan smirked, digging into his pocket. "I've got a...business card with me somewhere."

     Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a silver-plated Glock and laid it on the counter while he dug in his pockets.

     "I know it's here somewhere?" he continued, sticking his hands into his back pockets, where he pulled out a knife and laid it on the counter. "Just give me one minute." Reaching into the holsters under his arm he pulled out two more guns and laid them on the counter as well.

     Royal stepped back as she looked at her counter, cluttered with guns. Her heart skipped a beat. Suddenly his bite appeared worse than his bark.

     "There is no need to threaten anyone," Cory said, unmoved. "I have a pen right here. I can just write your number down. And you can put your guns away." Cory's voice was even and still, so much so that it calmed the women visibly shaken beside him.

     "No, no. I have one." Ivan pulled out a shiny silver pen and smiled at Royal. "Told you." He took the paper and wrote down his number, then slowly put the guns away.

     The clock seemed to slow, drawing out every second. It felt like a millennium before Anatoly walked into the store from the backroom, but it had only taken him five minutes.

     Five minutes to get from the
Mother Russia
to the
Dmitry's Closet,
and he hadn't come alone. Three men were with him, all wearing gun holsters with shiny, black guns tucked inside of them.

     "Royal, come over here," Anatoly ordered, motioning behind the men.

     Royal looked over at her friends, realizing that she could not leave them alone, she hesitated.

     "Go on," Cory said, nudging her arm.

     Royal grabbed Renée's hand and pulled her from behind the counter, where Ivan stood with a sheepish grin watching them scurry to the back of the store behind the Russian strangers that Anatoly had brought with him.

     Ivan looked back over at Cory and raised his eyebrow.

     "Looks like Royal brought some friends," Ivan said texting someone.

     "Evidently," Cory replied nonchalantly.

     Ivan put his phone on his hip and yawned. "You know, for fag... you don't squirm much."

     "I'm a homosexual, not a punk." Cory answered.

     Ivan smiled. "And you're eloquent."

     The front door opened quickly and six very large brooding men flooded in to the store, all standing behind Ivan, obviously under his command and ready to demolish the entire place if ordered.

     Anatoly did not flinch. He surveyed the room quietly as his men spread out.

     "Royal, I had no idea that you had such a large entourage," Ivan said loudly as he moved from the counter to the center of the floor directly across from Anatoly.

     "Don't talk to her. Talk to me," Anatoly ordered. "Who are you here for?"

     Ivan sighed. "How many times do I have to say it? I'm here for my brother, Dmitry Medlov."

     "Well, you're in wrong place," Anatoly was unmoved. His voice only hardened.

     "What's the right place?" Ivan asked mockingly.

     "You already have information. Don't play me for some kind of fool," Anatoly snapped. "Mr. Medlov will not be happy that you've come here. Not happy at all."

     "I'm counting on it." Ivan smirked.

     Just then, Dmitry walked in the front door of the shop with the newspaper in his hand, whistling a tune to himself. Mirroring his brother's style in a pair of gray slacks and black t-shirt and flip flops, he looked up stunned. The door chimes rattled as the door closed behind him. Everyone looked over at Dmitry, who looked back with a deadly grimace.

     He took off his shades and looked around, eyeing each of the men. The entire room calmed when they saw him, almost stiffening in fear. Their demeanor quickly changed from aggressive to docile.

     "What the hell is going on in my store?" he asked, searching for Royal.

     "You have... visitors," Anatoly informed his boss. He didn't budge or take his eyes off of the men.

     "Obviously," Dmitry said, finally eyeing Royal in the back with Renée looking on confused. He reached out and waved for her.

     Royal huffed. Now she was supposed to go back across the room to him? She looked over at Renée and let go of her hand. She knew Dmitry. He was not worried about protecting anyone but her.

     Slowly, she inched through the nearly crowded room alone, past the beautiful devil named Ivan and clouds of armed men to get to get to Dmitry, the tallest and most fearful of the entire crowd. Her heels clicked on the ground as she did so. All eyes followed her short silk dress and her long legs until she arrived at Dmitry, who was now visibly fuming.

     "Are you alright?" he asked, ignoring everyone else in the room. He took her face in his hands.

     "No," Royal said, feeling the tears weld up in her eyes. "They all have guns."

     "I know," he said softly.

     "In a fucking dress shop," she continued in a strained whisper.

     Dmitry looked up from her and stared over at his brother.

     "Ivan," he growled, pulling Royal behind him.

     "Dmitry," Ivan said, giving a devilish grin. "I see that not much has changed. You still know how to stop a show." He turned to face his brother, but did not move towards him. Even he knew his boundaries.

     "I see that you still don't know how to make an entrance," Dmitry said, nodding his head at Anatoly.

     He looked at the men all crowded in the store. He did not recognize any of the men with Ivan. They were not the ten men from the file he had received from New York. These were Ivan's personal bodyguards. The thought only angered him more.

     "Do I need to say anything?" he asked softly, looking at the men disapprovingly. "Because if I do, it will be
kill, mangle, burn, hang and destroy."

     There was an uncomfortable silence in the room. Ivan's men appeared suddenly vulnerable to Dmitry and his overbearing demeanor that trumped even his brother's pompous temperament.

     "Follow me," Anatoly instructed, turning around and walking out of the back of the store.

     All of the men, including Ivan disbursed quickly through the back door following Anatoly. They filed out of the building quietly, but they left Royal shaking in her flip flops. Tears were forming at the corner of her eyes, but she tried to keep them behind her long lashes.

     When the last man had gone, she looked up at Dmitry and buried her head in his chest.

     "Shh," Dmitry said, kissing the crown of her head. "Now, now shop girl, it's okay."

     "That man says that he's your BROTHER, but he came in here strapped like he was ready to kill someone and asking for ME!"

     "He's just putting on show."

     "Yeah, a horror flick," Renée snapped.

     Dmitry rolled his eyes.

     "Anatoly had on guns like this is the Wild West. So did the others, I'm sure of it. What in the hell is going on in here? Did I miss something?" She shook her head in disbelief. Tears ran down the sides of her cheeks.

     Dmitry tried to calm her. "Nothing is going on," he said, smiling at her innocence. "Russians carry guns, especially Russians with money. And my brother has never known how not to be confrontational. Plus, you must have hit the panic button, dah? What did you expect Anatoly to come over here with—a bat? We protect our own."

     "From what? Protect yourselves from what, Dmitry?" Royal asked.

     Dmitry was quiet. He could see that pacifying her would only make the situation worse. "Can we go in back, please? We need to talk."

     Royal wiped her eyes and stormed into the back room.

     "They aren't coming back, are they? Renée asked in a cracked voice.

     "No. There's no need to be scared," Dmitry said, looking over at Cory, who had a strange unreadable look on his face. "No one is going to let anything happen to you."

     He set down his newspaper and checked his buzzing Blackberry on his hip. Then slowly, he made his way to the back office where Royal waited.

     "Dmitry, um... who is Kirill?" Royal asked Dmitry as he closed the door. Her hand was propped up on her hip.

     "What?" Dmitry looked up with a stone stare on his face. The ice in his eyes seemed to chill her bones. Royal stepped back. She could easily see the resemblance of him and Ivan now.

     "Ivan said that he was here to replace Kirill." Royal's voice lowered. "Who is he and why did he have to be replaced by someone like that?"

     Dmitry's eyes relaxed and he sighed, tired of the confrontation. "Kirill died last month. If you recall, I went to his funeral. Ivan will be taking over some parts of my company's operations," he said, putting his phone back on his hip in its holster.

     "How did he kill himself?" Royal asked, swallowing hard. She knew that she was treading in very unfamiliar territory by asking him questions about his business, but something would not allow her to restrain herself.

     Dmitry looked at her. She was shaking, afraid. He knew that there was no need to intimidate her anymore than his brother had already done. Carefully, he tried to explain, making sure to control his growing frustration. "He shot himself in basement," Dmitry said, grabbing for her hand. He pulled her to him gently.

     "He also said something about you living by a monk code. What does that mean?"

     "It's nothing for you to worry about."

     "Then why won't you tell me. Why does it always have to be bits and pieces with you? Answer me!"

     "That little shit comes in here and starts babbling like teenager, and suddenly I'm supposed to be the one who has to explain?" Dmitry snapped.

     Royal rolled her eyes. "You won't tell me, will you?"

     "There is nothing to tell. He's an idiot."

     "The point is that you never told me you had a brother."

     "I disowned him years ago. There is nothing to tell."

     "But if you disowned him, why is he taking Kirill's place?" she snapped, stumping her foot as she did so.

     Her quick response made Dmitry pause. She was quicker than he'd given her credit for being.

     "I needed someone I could trust to do what Kirill did for me, but I couldn't find anyone... that I could trust. So, I ended up at least with someone who was mildly competent and overwhelmingly predictable. That's the best answer that I can give you."