Dmitry's Closet (28 page)

     "Every time I turn around, you're giving me diamonds, and at first, I didn't understand your generosity. But now I think I've finally gotten you figured out. You shower me with all these diamonds for my neck and my ears and my wrist, because you want to take my mind away from the one I really want on my finger."

     She turned and started to walk again.

     "I'm not avoiding it. I think of it probably more than you do."

     "Why would you? You have the milk, no need to buy the cow now?"

     "What? What is this about a cow? Horses now cows. I'm confused."

     "I'm not playing, Dmitry. It depresses me. It... pisses me off. It makes me feel less than a woman."

     Dmitry took her arm and looked into her eyes. "I would never want to make you feel less than a woman. That is not my intention at all, Royal Stone."

     "But it
is
your intention to keep me a
kept
woman?"

     "By whose standards are you kept. I don't believe in the world's social norms. I live by another set. One that has ruled me since I was a boy."

     "And does this society of yours have wives?"

     "No."

     "That's what I thought. As much as I love you, don't you ever ask yourself if all of this will end? If I can't be your wife, then I can't be in your life forever."

     And there it was, Royal's ultimatum.

     Dmitry shook his head. It had taken her longer than he had first expected.

     "Yes. You can. You belong to me. Tell me that you can't feel it? We have a covenant...you and I. Whether there is a ring on your finger or not, I will always be your husband. You gave me your virginity... I gave you my entire life."

     "And I'm grateful. I mean, if it were my place, I'd have already asked you to marry me." She sighed. "But it's not my place, because I'm not the man in this relationship."

     "Thank God."

     Dmitry smiled.
Clever little girl.
She was determined to get what she wanted. She looked up at him and rolled her eyes.

     He reverted back to his previous discussion knowing that it would only irritate her more. "So
cow,
children with you is not out of question?" he asked, holding in a chuckle.

     "At this point, I'm damned certain that they are in the picture." Royal had learned not to expect Dmitry's constant questions to go anywhere. Sometimes, he just wanted to know. "I just want to be married first. And if you call me a cow again, I'll climb up your lanky body and kick you in the balls."

     He did chuckle that time and put his hand over his groin.

     "Whoa, horsey. I hope that we have a whole house full of babies with their
kept
momma. And they can have your last name. I like it more."

     Royal was incensed. She snatched her arm away. "You pompous asshole!" Shaking her head, she stormed off. "How I could even wait on baited breath for you to ask is beyond me. I'm an idiot! Just as much of an idiot as you are. We deserve each other. We're both ridiculous!"

     Dmitry stopped walking and watched her pout her way down the street.

     "Royal. Royal come back," he called after her.

     "No!"

     "How about now?" he asked, smiling. "How about now what?"

     Royal stopped walking and whipped around. Her heart stopped. Dmitry was on one knee under a street light. His grin was even more devious that ever. He had a look of utter accomplishment on his face.

     As she walked closer to him, he took off his gray wool skull cap, revealing his blonde curly locks. He looked up at her, still nearly as tall on one knee as she was standing. His eyes sparkled.

     "Hi," he said softly. His dimples created creases in his jaw line.

     "Hi," Royal whispered with her hands over her mouth in disbelief. "You really got my goat this time. Didn't you."

     "Goats, horses, cows. This is why I love you."

     "I love you too."

     Dmitry cleared his throat. "Some people do this after dinner in crowded restaurants. I prefer privacy. We are here in the city that I was born, the city that created what I am, whether it's good or bad." He looked around and sighed. "So much has happened in the last few weeks, things that have come to fruition that have completed my legacy. It is time for me to move on with my life. I have worked hard enough, and I want to start this new life with you—the woman that I love, and a woman that is pure but is not all ignorant of the world. No man can ask for more."

     Tears ran down Royal's cheeks. No longer cold or afraid, she clung to her coat shaking not from coldness but from shock. She stood in front of him on the sidewalk in the snow looking down at her knight in shining armor.

     "Will you be my wife?" Dmitry asked, pulling a small box from his coat and opening it to show a very large solitaire diamond ring. Its simplistic beauty and grandiose size caught her attention instantly, but it was Dmitry's question that captured her. When she did not answer, Dmitry continued. He felt his strength weaning. He wasn't expecting her to say no. He began to stutter. "I. I know that you don't know what I do, what I've done, who I am. If you give me time, I will show you the man that I can be... "

     "Yes," Royal said, sticking her left hand out. "Yes, I will marry you."

     "Are you sure, because you took minute," he joked.

     "Yes," Royal screamed and a laughed. "Yes." She smiled bright as he slid the ring on her finger and picked her up. The luminous d-grade diamond sparkled in the moonlight on her long slender finger.

     "Come here," he said, holding her close. They hugged tightly. "You have made me very happy. Now I will have beautiful wife who has promised to give me lots of children and no more lip."

     "I love you," she said with her hands around his neck.

     "You do?"

     "Yes," she looked into his eyes. "I'll always love you."

     "I love you too," he said kissing her lips. He scooped her up in his arms and laughed and smiled at her. His deep voice lit up the night. "We're getting married!"

     "Yeah!" Royal screamed. She looked at her ring again. "I've gotta get a dress," she said, shaking her head.

Chapter 22

     There was severe winter storm circling Memphis. In celebration of the weather, Ivan sat on his rooftop in a lawn chair as the wind and snow beat down on the riverside. With only a black wool sweater and a pair of jeans on, he sat with a silver flask of vodka in the silence of his thoughts, gazing at the blackness of the Mississippi under the heavy winter night skies. Instead of sitting towards the middle of the building, he positioned his flimsy chair on the very edge of the rooftop with his feet propping him safely up on the flat surface. If he dared slip, he would fall to his death, but Ivan did not care. He liked the edge and all that it represented.

     He looked down at the quick fall of the snow to the ground below, where cars lined the front of his condo nearly four stories down. His men were inside preparing for a war, and he was outside preparing for his brother's judgment day.

     Guns had been shipped and stolen from many miles away in anticipation of what was to come. Many would still not do business with them until Dmitry was dead, but they sent complimentary weapons in hopes that Ivan would be able to do the job. Most doubted he could. Few believed that he would get out of this alive. He took in a deep breath and smiled. The thought of drawing first blood made his heart skip a beat. The gleeful feeling of crushing Dmitry under his boot was a far better rush than any drug could provide. It wouldn't be long. A week at most. Now that he had his plan in action, he just had to make special plans for Royal.

     A mocha-colored black man walked out on the rooftop and interrupted Ivan's silence. He was bald, tall and clean cut with very dark, prominent features. His large frame was covered by gray turtleneck and dark jeans. With him, he carried two large guns in the holsters under his arms. He coughed a little, hitting his chest as he did so.

     "Люди готовы для вас," the man said in a deep baritone, offering Ivan his coat. His deep voice rattled the quiet snow.

     "Препятствуйте им ждать, брат," Ivan scoffed. He offered his brother-in-arms a drink, but as usual the holy man would not touch it.

     Dorian was an old friend who had flown in from Moscow specifically for Ivan's coo. Before he left, he had confirmed for Ivan that Dmitry was back in their homeland, then he had quickly come to Memphis to set up shop.

     Dorian was an expatriate of neighboring Sochi, Georgia with a healthy appetite for building dirty bombs. His father had been from Africa and his mother a quiet Muslim woman and native of Sochi. Dorian had been a rebel during many of the conflicts in Georgia and had since his teenage years, very much like the Medlov boys, been involved in organized crime.

     Ironically enough, Ivan met Dorian through Dmitry, but not in an amicable way. Over a decade before, Dmitry sent Ivan to kill Dorian, but when Ivan arrived in the city of Tbilisi, Dorian paid him well to allow him to keep his life. The secret was maintained for a couple of years. And Ivan thought it was all water under the bridge when they left permanently to work for the Vory in the states. However, their scandal was still uncovered.

     Dmitry later found out that Dorian was not dead and discovered the $3.5 million American dollars that Ivan was paid only after Dmitry came in contact with the man in New York by chance. Small world.

     In retaliation of Ivan's willful defiance, there was a bloody fall out between the brothers that landed Ivan in the hospital with his neck cut open and his wife dead. Dorian was smart enough to sneak out of the city and hide away in Thailand until it all blew over. Now, he was back to ensure that Ivan's final stand against his brother had a fighting chance.

     "You still prefer to speak Russian brother?" Ivan asked, leaning into the edge a little with his feet.

     "I prefer no one language over another," Dorian answered, looking at Ivan play with death under the slick snow.

     "I've been forced to speak the language of the natives for so long until I sometimes forget who I am and where I come from. Dmitry wanted to come to the states, but not me," he said with a sigh. "I would like very much to go back to Russia when all of this is over."

     "For good?"

     "I don't know about all of that, but for a while,
dab."
He pushed the seat back and stood up. "It's long way down, eh," he said, looking over the edge of the building one last time.

     "Yes. So you should not tempt God by pretending that it's not," Dorian said, walking towards the door. "As I said before, the men are waiting on you."

     "And as I said before, let them wait," Ivan said, taking another swig of his vodka.

∞♥∞

     The limo pulled in front of Dmitry's home at exactly 6:00 p... m. Royal had fallen asleep on Dmitry's arm with her feet stretched across his lap. They were finally alone after many long hours of low chatter on the plane ride. When the driver opened the door, Dmitry rubbed Royal's arm and woke her up. She grabbed her purse and followed Dmitry to the porch, where the bodyguard sat with his dog. Nightfall had set in and the large compound was quiet and still.

     "Hey poochie," Royal said, gesturing at the dog, who came over quickly and kissed her hand.

     "He's supposed to be a guard dog?" Dmitry asked, shaking his head. "Are you sure that he even bites?"

     "Yes, boss. He bites," the man said with a faint grin.

     "Good," Dmitry opened the door for Royal.

     While Moscow had been beautiful and different, Royal could not explain the joy of walking back into their home. The familiar smell of vanilla and jasmine filled the airy atrium. She looked around in awe and hugged herself quietly. Kicking off her shoes, she headed up the staircase.

     "Where are you going," Dmitry asked, looking through the mail on the table.

     "To take a bath," she screamed down as she ran up the stairs.

     "You're like fish," he said under his breath. "Always in water."

     The driver walked behind Dmitry and placed their luggage by the door, tipped his hat and left quietly.

     Frustrated with the bulk mail he had been receiving lately, he shuffled through the pile and found a blue envelope with no return address. He picked it up and flipped it around, then slid his long finger between the paper to break the fold. There was a small white note inside the suspicious envelope that simply read in blue pen, "Call me as soon as you read this."

     Dmitry took a deep breath and looked up the stairwell. Royal had retreated to her bathroom, where she would surely be for hours. He tore up the small piece of paper and stuffed it deep into his pocket, then made his way to his study, where he closed the door and went to his desk.

     The fire crackled in the darkness, illuminating the large room.

     He sat down and sighed, then dialed the number slowly. The phone rang twice then picked up immediately. "Hello." The southern male voice sounded eager. "How long has your note been sitting on my table?"

     "One day," the voice confirmed. "What is the problem?"

     "Your brother is planning to wage a war on you. Two of your council members are in cahoots with him."

     "Which ones?"

     "Max and Nicolai."

     "Impossible."

     "Wanna hear the tapes? They met at Ginger's Pub out in Arlington maybe a day after you were gone." There was silence on the phone. "Leave Max and Nicolai to me," Dmitry said finally. "And your brother?"

     Dmitry leaned his large arms over on the table and crossed his hands. "Use the information that I've given you, but trust me... you won't need it until after."

     "About that," the voice sighed.

     "Yes?"

     "He's trying to connect you with over ten whore houses here, one of which is selling off teenagers. We don't have proof right now. Can't ever catch anyone in the act, but he said that he'd come in and give testimony against you and proof this week."