Dmitry's Closet (19 page)

     Dmitry and Anatoly turned around in their chairs. That was evidently their queue to head to the dinning room. Dmitry led by turning off the television and making his way with his box of Kleenex up the short stairway to her. He leaned down and kissed her head.

     "Show me what you've been up to for half the afternoon," he said, a little excited.

     The walnut dining table covered in crystal sat under yet another beautiful Italian-inspired chandelier. Around an extraordinary bouquet of roses was a full meal of dressing and gravy, ham, mixed greens, green beans, sweet potato pudding, warm biscuits, wine and champagne.

     Dmitry stood at the head of the table, lost for words and extremely impressed.

     Royal could not control her smiles by this point. She looked over at Renée proudly, glad that her new friend had gotten out of the bed and helped her on this very important occasion.

     "Dmitry, do you wanna say grace?" she asked, standing beside him.

     "Grace?" Dmitry asked, a little confused. No one had asked him that since he was a boy in school.
"Dah,
grace?" Royal mimicked.

     "I'm Catholic. Are you?" Dmitry realized at that very moment that they had never discussed their religion.

     "I'm familiar," Royal said, bowing her head. She made the sign on the cross and closed her eyes.

     Dmitry looked over at Anatoly, who smirked and followed Royal's lead. He had never heard his father pray aloud.

     Dmitry felt a sudden serge of discomfort. Sure, he did it in the privacy of his home, where no one would see and mistake his religion for weakness, but he had not prayed in front of anyone since he was ten when his mother had been beaten badly by a John, who left her on their doorstep covered in blood. He prayed for her then, aloud, so God would hear him and protect him and Ivan, but not since then. She died on those steps.

     "Very well," Dmitry said, clearing his voice. He made the sign of the cross and began to pray. There was something strangely normal and liberating about what Royal had asked him to do. He prayed aloud the words that he had whispered near his bed many nights before. He prayed for his son, for Royal, for himself.

     "Amen," they all said, a little shook up by his kind words, his soft tone, and his humble actions. Royal wiped her eyes and reached over to give him a kiss.

     "Happy Thanksgiving, baby," she said as she pulled the seat out for him.

Chapter 13

     Later that evening, after the food had been eaten, the wine bottles emptied and the company had gone, Royal lay relaxed in her favorite tub. It was a classic creation—cast iron, gloss gold enamel on the outside and beautiful gloss white enamel on the inside with beautiful golden brass claw feet. It sat in the middle of the bathroom surrounded by twenty square feet of black marble flooring, accented by two beautiful, petite water basins and a very large shower in the corner, big enough to fit ten people in that doubled also as a steam room. When Dmitry purchased the house, the tub had come with it, but he was too large of a man to ever use it. So it had sat untouched until she moved it.

     Dmitry had set candles around their large bathroom to give the area a little ambience. He left her there soaking while he went downstairs to meet with a few of his men, who had stressed on the phone with him the importance of an emergency meeting. As usual, he had apologized for the interruption and promised not to be too long. However, Royal was certain that he might be gone the rest of the night.

     She finally got out and wrapped herself in the large terry cloth bathrobe. As she opened the door the bathroom, a peculiar feeling over took Royal. The room became blurry. She leaned against the post of the bed and looked over at the oversized fireplace that Dmitry had lit directly across from their bed. The wood crackled on the fire in the dark room. Silence was all around her. She felt as though she would faint. The heat from bathtub, the many glasses of wine and the heat from the fireplace were trying to overtake her.

     Shaking, she lay down in the bed and turned on the plasma flat screen mounted above the fireplace. She crawled to the middle of the king-sized bed and rubbed her hands over face. She had to cool off. Maybe, she was just overheated. Pulling the bulky robe off, she lay down naked, feeling the room spin around her. Her eyes closed.

∞♥∞

     Downstairs on the other side of the mansion, seven men sat in Dmitry's private study, near his fireplace in leather seats and drinking out of crystal goblets. They talked over each other, nearly arguing in Russian, back in forth with one another, while Dmitry stood looking out the window and listening. When he had heard enough, he turned around and spoke quietly, calming the men with his voice and his temperate demeanor.

     "This issue is no longer up for discussion," Dmitry said quietly.

     "The men sent from New York have done their part. It's time to send them back."

     "I'm not convinced," Dmitry argued.

     "Our men can do the job better," one man argued back. "Unfortunately, they don't even know the routes. These other men have more control over our business than we do. That is absurd."

     "Your men?" Dmitry sighed. "I'm not convinced that all of your men are loyal. I know that these ten are. You need to leave here and go and check your men, clean your houses. Someone else is communicating with the police. Until I know who is, I'm going to see that these ten continue to do as they're told."

     "Our men have always been loyal," Vladimir, and older man of the counsel said.

     "True Vladimir. Your man have. Until I am sure that all men in this camp are as loyal as the ten that are out there right now—none of your men will be allowed to know anymore about the route. It's security for everyone. You should be thankful. It's not like you don't still get your cut."

     The men were quiet. Again, another person was talking to police. This had never happened in all the years that they had been in Memphis. Now, at least two incidents had happened in less than six months. They all looked around at each other suspiciously.

     "There is another thing to discuss," Vladimir continued. Dmitry raised his eyebrow.

     "We have the opportunity to move into larger investments with local bank in the area. It is failing and needs new investors. They have approached us with offer. However..."

     "The key word is
failing,
Vladimir. We don't want to put money into a slow sinking ship."

     "We can turn the bank around and take larger control of the business in order to launder our money better." Dmitry was silent for a minute.

     "And they came to us with offer?" Dmitry asked curiously.

     "With offer we cannot afford to ignore, Dmitry."

     "Ignore it," Dmitry ordered. "If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. My sources have told me that the FBI is investigating four banks here. They probably pushed one of them to make offer to us in exchange for break for leniency."

     "Well, we've discussed the need for new revenue streams. I am just trying to find new ways."

     "And we will have our people meet with the accountants to do just that, but they will not be revenue streams with holes."

     "I mean no disrespect, Dmitry," another man said. "But you seem scared these days to take any risk that could bring the men money. Has that woman clouded your focus?"

     The room became quiet. Dmitry looked at the man and then at Anatoly. The veins in his neck started to show. He scowled like a vicious dog. Even the tailored oxford and sweater vest, the perfect hair cut and clean shaven face could not conceal his savage instinct.

     "There has only been one man in ten years who has gone to jail under my watch. How many families can say that? How many times have I protected your ass? I can't even count anymore. You all are allowed to marry and have children. You live in lavish homes and drive luxury cars no different than my own and yet you feel as though you can question me?"

     "Not all of us," Vladimir said, pouring himself another glass of scotch.

     "My focus has never been
clouded,
but my patience is starting to wear thin. If you get too damned comfortable talking to me, brother, I may be forced to cut out your tongue."

     The men silenced. Sensing that Dmitry was near one of his maniac-like episodes, they rested their collective case. It was settled. The men Dmitry called on to make the serge through Tennessee to secure their guns route would remain until further notice. Everyone except Ivan. The man that Dmitry wanted gone the most would be there indefinitely.

     Ivan stood up with smirk and excused himself from the group. Anatoly was standing at the door, as he tried to pass.

     "I need to use your restroom," he said, reaching for the knob.

     Anatoly looked over at Dmitry, who nodded to let him pass.

     "It's down the hall to the right," Anatoly said, opening the door but still watching him carefully.

     "You know, I'd like to have a little butt boy like you to do whatever I say one day," Ivan said sarcastically. "How much do your services cost? Maybe I can write you check to come work for me? Take for instance now; I need someone to hold my big cock up for me in the restroom. You think you could manage that? It's quite heavy."

     "Down the hall, to the right," Anatoly repeated before he closed the door in Ivan's face.

     Ivan smirked and looked down the grand hallway illuminated by glass lanterns. He walked down the herringbone limestone floor, hearing his feet echo, looking at the painted wood molding over sage-colored columns and the Russian paintings.

     A house fit for a king, he thought to himself as he went inside the restroom. He closed the door and waited there for a minute. Checking his nose hair in the mirror, he turned on the faucet and let the water run. Then, he peeked out of the bathroom to make sure that no one had followed him. Slyly, he stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door, making sure to leave the water running.

     Quickly, Ivan headed up the back stairwell to the second floor of the house, memorizing the layout of the home. He checked each door, all left unlocked. Looking in, making note of each room, he made his way down the long hallway to the master bedroom.

     When he arrived at it, he looked back. There was a giddy thump of his dark heart. His long hand grasped the crystal doorknob and turned it slowly. He just wanted to see where they slept, where his relentless brother rested.
Even lions had a den.

     The door opened without a sound, and the light from the hallway glittered in over Royal's naked body. He looked on hungry. She was asleep, thus vulnerable. A devilish smile crossed his lips. He opened the door a little more. She was so long, so shapely. His heart began to race. If he only had the time, he would do it now. Do her. But the clock was ticking.

     Crossing the threshold, he walked up closer to her. He had to get a better look. Her body slumbered with her back towards the door, still glistening with water. Her long hair fanned the pillow. The brown tips of her swelled breasts sat up invitingly.

     He walked up to the bed, hidden in the shadows of the room and stood over her, thinking of what he would do to her soon. For a moment, he was tempted to run his finger down the curve of her body, but he decided against it. If she woke up and screamed, he would have to snap her neck. That would ruin all of his plans. He finally looked over at the clock and crept back out, making sure to close the door behind him.

     When Ivan made it near middle way of the hallway, he saw Anatoly approaching. He stopped in his tracks and spread his arms wide.

     "This is very, very nice house my brother has, eh?"

     Anatoly looked down the hallway at Royal's closed door.

     "What the fuck are you doing up here?" Anatoly asked, reaching for his gun.

     "Relax. I just wanted to see his property. You know, he's never invited me over. Me. His own brother. It's no harm in looking right?" He walked towards Anatoly with a cocky swagger, a smug grin on his face. "Looking at all that he has acquired has made me realize that I must strive more for more."

     "Strive for getting your ass downstairs with the others," Anatoly said, motioning at the back stairwell.

     As Ivan headed back to the men, Anatoly went to the master bedroom door and opened it. He saw Royal lying there—still breathing most importantly. Quickly, he closed the door and shook his head in disgust. Ivan had seen her. He was sure of it.

Chapter 14

     Dawn emerged from the horizon, casting a small translucent glow into Dmitry's bedroom. Unable to sleep, he laid in the bed looking at the fireplace and listening to the crackling of the embers thinking of all that was required of him this day.

     Royal lay curled under him, wrapped in his embrace, asleep and protected. He raised her chin to see her glowing face. She barely moved but smiled as she dreamed. He rubbed her chin softly and kissed her forehead. Finally, carefully, he pulled his large body away from her satin-like naked skin. It was becoming harder and harder to do.

     Every morning, when he woke, she was there faithfully with him. Where he used to jump up and seize every day, now, he only longed to be with her—his perfect Royal Flush.

     Tucking the silk silver sheets around Royal's body, Dmitry stood naked by the side of the bed watching her sleep. Had he the time, he would wake her in his usual fashion, with soft kisses, massaging her long, voluptuous body, urging her to make love to him so that he could start his day. But she looked so comfortable that he decided to leave her there, unbothered until the alarm sounded for her own day to start.

     Turning from Royal, he headed to the shower. As he turned, Royal's eyes opened, and she watched him quietly walk towards the bathroom door. His long, muscular body always fascinated her. She wanted to reach out to him and call him back, but she held her silence.

     Instead she took a long deep breath of his pillow that smelled of his cologne and turned back into the softness of the bed to rest.