Dmitry's Closet (17 page)

     Frustrated, she picked his clothes up off the floor, folded them, and placed them carefully on the wooden valet. She hated when he threw his clothes on the floor like he had a maid...
over here.

     Turning around to leave, she looked over at him and noticed how solemn he actually was. Something was wrong. He leaned his large frame against the marble and let the water cascade down his long back. The stream looked like a small river as it poured down the valley of rippling muscles. Feeling a tinge of sympathy for him, she walked over to the glass shower door and tapped her index finger on the glass.

     Dmitry turned and looked over at her, then pulled open the large door. She stepped away to avoid getting wet, but he reached out with his long drenched arm and pulled her in with him.

     "Are you still mad at me?"

     "Are you serious? Of course, I am. It just happened like five minutes ago."

     "I thought you might give me break for first offense."

     "Are you negotiating down your dog house time?"

     "Yes."

     "Who negotiates how long your girlfriend can stay mad at you?"

     "Who doesn't?"

     Royal shook her head. He was impossible.

     "What do you want to ask me? You have that look like you're thinking crazy ass thoughts." He waited.

     "What is going on with you, Dmitry?" she asked, now soaking wet.

     "The ghost of Christmas past," he said, pulling the yellow dress over her head.

     "What?" she asked, taking off her ruined heels. "See, that's what I'm talking about. Code. That doesn't answer my question. When you speak in code like that I can't..."

     "Shh." He put his finger on her lips. "Я так люблютебя."

     "I love you, too." She had only learned a few sentences in Russian since she had started dating Dmitry, and
I love you
was the first.

     Pulling Royal to his body, Dmitry reached around her and loosened the clasps on her black bra. It fell to the ground between them on the granite flooring. He leaned over and kissed her bare, satin-like shoulders and held her close, feeling her soft wet skin against his own.

     He began to speak slowly in a tongue that she could not understand. "Ya blagadaryu boga chto vstretil tebya," he whispered in her ear. Royal smiled. His voice sounded more even more like silk in his Russian baritone brogue. "Ya palyubil tebya s pervova vzglyada." He continued.

     "What does all that mean?" Royal asked, feeling his large hands run up and down her body.

     "I thank God that I met you, and... I fell in love with you from the first sight," he said, feeling her small hands moving down his stomach to the large erection nestled in her diaphragm.

     "You'd say anything to get out of trouble," Royal whispered.

     "Umm... you know I've taken out as much frustration as I can on my men, the rest will have to be taken out on you," he growled, kissing her neck.

     "I'm sure it was a slap on the wrist," she huffed, rolling her eyes. "After all, it was
nothing.
Remember?"

     "Are we still discussing this?"

     "Yes?"

     "You think I was lenient?" He stopped and looked at her. The sound of water drowned the room.

     "I'm sure you were." Her hands were still wrapped around him. She wore only a condescending stare.

     "There is one thing that is constant with me—killing makes me horny." His face was still charming and soft. "Do I feel horny to you?" He pulled her closer to into his engorged body.

     "The only thing that you're killing right now is the mood," she said, pulling him closer. "Really, Dmitry. You don't have to act tough for me." She kissed his lips slowly, taking in the smell of his sandalwood soap on his skin.

     "Now, you're really in trouble," he said turned on.

     Dmitry looked down at her, pleased at how she had grown accustomed to all of his silent commands and equally pleased at how oblivious she was at who he really was. Running his hands down her breasts to her nipples, he watched the goose bump form all over her body. She obediently leaned her neck back where he could better kiss her.

     Completely enraged, he ripped her panties by the lace sides violently and tore them from her skin. The water poured over her curly long hair making it stick to her back and cover her breasts; he moved the jet black mane back from her face as he kissed her all over.

     Royal gasped, feeling that familiar sensation of floating as he picked her up. She reached up for his mouth and kissed him passionately, tasting vodka and shower water in her mouth, smelling his cologne around them. She wrapped her long legs around him as he leaned her body against the wet marble. Planting his feet firmly, he invaded her slowly and powerfully. She gripped his back with her long nails as the steam crowded the room. Finally, soft moans came from shower.

∞♥∞

     Royal could feel herself drifting away as she lay on top of Dmitry's chest. Exhausted, she listened to John Coltrane play
Traneing In
on her IPod system in the dark of the night with only a candelabrum of white candles to illuminate the room. Dmitry rubbed through her hair and looked up at the ceiling. His eyes were fixed on the fan, but his mind was many miles away.

     Regardless of where his thoughts were, she savored the feeling of safety when he was near. It was something about his very presence that made her feel a tranquil solace. By far, it was the safest that she had ever felt in her entire life, and she was very grateful to him for it. She ran her fingers down his chest as she felt him breathe—in and out in a slow, rhythmic tone. The only thing that she did regret was how mysterious he still was to her. She only hoped in time that he would open up more and show her the many sides of him that she was certain existed.

     "I want you to move in with me to my home," Dmitry said, finally after much thought.

     Royal looked up at him curiously. He had been quiet for nearly half an hour, but that was normal for him.

     She had learned early that often he was a man of few words. Reaching down, he grabbed her by her waist and pulled her up to him. She sat up on his chest and sighed.

     "Because of Ivan?" she assumed.

     "No, because it's time," he said quickly.

     "Well, it hasn't been that long, Dmitry."

     "Long enough." He cupped her bare behind in his large hands. "Have I not proven myself to you in every way a man can?"

     "Yeah," Royal said, assuring him of her confidence in their relationship. "But I don't understand why you want me to move in now."

     "Trust me," Dmitry said, kissing her lips. "Plus, I get tired of running from place to place. I am not rolling stone. You should be in my bed every morning when I wake up and in my bed every night that I go to bed."

     Royal laid her head back down on his chest. "That does sound nice. Okay. When do you want me to move to
Castle Dmitry?"

     "Tomorrow. I will stay with you here tonight." Royal jerked up again. "Tomorrow? Dmitry?" He rubbed her back and smiled. "You know, for a woman in love, you don't trust much." His words shamed her.

     "I do trust you. I'm just not stupid. Everything was fine. We were fine just like we were until today when your
mysterious
brother popped up offering sex and brandishing guns with his boys."

     Dmitry cringed. "When did he offer you sex?"

     "It doesn't matter," she looked away. "That's not the bigger picture here."

     "Baby, listen to me. Ivan is very dangerous person. Don't ever trust him. Don't ever get close to him, and don't ever find yourself alone with him."

     Royal could see the urgency in his eyes. She knew to take heed to his warning, even though she didn't understand why.

     "Why don't you send him away if he's so dangerous?"

     "I've thought about it, but he has to be neutralized. Sending him away doesn't work anymore," he sighed. "I've done that. So, you keep friends close and enemies even closer. This is not cliché statement. It is truth."

     Royal laid her head back on his chest and closed her eyes.

     "Tomorrow it is, then," she said, pulling the comforter over her body.

Chapter 12

     The Fall trunk shows and VIP diamond and fur shows had gone extremely well for Royal. She had been interviewed by all the local television stations and showcased by
The Commercial Appeal, The Downtowner, Skirt Magazine
and the
Memphis Flyer.
All four were highly visible print media that promised her an even bigger market share by Christmas.

     Business was doing better than well.
Dmitry's Closet
had more than quadrupled its profits for the second quarter with clients knocking down the door every morning for a private viewing of the newest collections, special orders from Milan and Moscow and consultations with the new
it
girl of the Memphis fashion scene.

     Royal was a hot commodity, even more sought after now due to a very popular local blog that did a high profile story on her at her $3.5 million home that she shared with tycoon and sexy business man, Dmitry Medlov.

     Since the story broke and all of Memphis had seen pictures of the two relaxing around town in the hottest night clubs, the finest restaurants, the most elite of circles; Royal had become a notorious figure. One reporter wrote,

    
"It's not just that she's a talented young business woman with a keen eye for fashion, she's also breathtakingly beautiful. The combination creates the desire to spend money to look like Memphis' newest princess, Royal Stone!"

     Dmitry celebrated their new found success by buying Royal a new X6 BMW, fully loaded in all black and a beautiful Tiffany swing necklace. She had no idea that the platinum chain cost $40,000.

     Royal celebrated by purchasing more ad space in the same magazines that tooted her store and increasing her inventory of all things Russian.

     She sat reading the newspaper in awe as it boasted about all the celebrity patrons that she was acquiring. Little did they all know that she was on the verge of starving at the first of summer. She closed the newspaper and blew her nose with roll of tissue on the kitchen table. The weather had started to change, and in celebration of that fact, she had acquired a nasty little cold.

     Coughing, she made her way across the cold tile floors on her bare feet to the counter to pour another cup of coffee. She sneezed unexpectedly. Quickly trying to cover it, she turned away from the defenseless coffee pot. Germs. Lots and lots of germs. She rubbed her aching head.

     Dmitry walked in the kitchen in his silk pajamas bottoms and bare-chested with an empty cup in hand. His nose was red and his high cheek bones rosy. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her silk silver kimono.

     "Good morning, love," he said, kissing her neck. "I think you gave me flu. Hopefully not H1N1." He set his black coffee mug in front of her so that she could refill his caffeinated beverage. He coughed a little as he rested at the mesquite-topped table island covered in newspapers.

     "No, I think you gave me the flu," Royal said, pouring him another cup of coffee as well as herself. She walked back over to the table with their cups and sat down.

     "So, what are we going to do today?" Dmitry asked, picking up the paper that she had discarded. "These people can't get enough of you. This is like the tenth paper that you've been in this quarter." He pulled the paper to his face and began to read quietly.

     Suddenly there was a quiet gasp from Royal. He pulled the newspaper down to see her sitting with her hand over her mouth looking directly at him.

     "What... what is it?" he asked concerned.

     "Look, it's Woodrow Conners." She grabbed the newspaper.

     "Who is
Woodrow Conners?'

     She read quickly, placing her fingers on the paper. "It's the guy that I cut with the scissors when I was in foster care." She looked up at him stunned.

     "Oh... that guy. What about him? Did they convict him of trying to rape some other teenager?"

     "He was murdered… in the bathroom of a club... cut from ear to ear."

     Dmitry sighed. "Sounds like karma caught up with him."

     Royal was silent.

     "You aren't sad, are you?" He sipped his coffee.

     "No. It's just weird." She shook her head in disbelief.

     "This is Memphis. Someone is killed here all the time -everyday. This is why I tell you to be very careful at shop, not to get too comfortable."

     "I know. I know." She sighed.

     "Well, you have done your thirty seconds of mourning. I do not want to give that pedophile a minute more of my day."

     "You're right." Royal pushed the paper away from her. She redirected. "It's Thanksgiving. I think that we should have a big American dinner together. I won't work from home, and you won't work from the restaurant."

     "I don't work."

     "Well whatever you do." She leaned over the island and smiled. "Please." She batted her watery eyes and sniffed, unsure if contagious charm had the same affect.

     "You want to have this at the restaurant?" He barely looked up from the front page of the paper. "If so, I can call the girls and make them come in to cook."

     "No. I was thinking that you and I could have dinner here. I could invite Renée, and you could invite Anatoly. We could watch the football game and have some soul food and have a few beers. You know, celebrate the red, white and blue way."

     "Anatoly lives here. How can I invite him to dinner at his own house?"

     "You know what I mean." Royal took a sip of her coffee. The hot burn made her aching throat feel better.

     "No, I don't."

     "I mean that you could insist that he come. If I invite him, I think that he'll say no."

     "Why would he say no?"

     "I don't' know? I just get that feeling. I think that he thinks I'm a pest."