Dmitry's Closet (31 page)

     Dmitry walked towards her, but she screamed and darted out of the room. With no shoes on, she ran down the hallway on the marble floors as fast as she could, away from the bedroom. She looked back to see Dmitry come running out of the room behind her.

     She screamed again as she made her way to the stairwell. Her heart pounded as she skipped every other step, trying quickly to keep Dmitry from closing the gap with his long stride. She nearly fell at the bottom of the stairwell. Feeling for her keys in her jeans, she headed towards the kitchen. If she could get to the garage, she could get off the property, even if she had to plow down the fence and the bodyguards.

     "Someone help me!" she screamed.

     She ran through the foyer to the kitchen and could hear Dmitry gaining on her. Suddenly, she felt his arms reach out for her and pull her down. She hit the floor fast, missing a face-on collision with the marble only because instinctively her hands slapped the ground first. She turned around and started to kick him as hard as she could.

     "Calm down, Royal," Dmitry ordered, trying to get her to stop screaming.

     "Get off of me," she screamed. "I hate you!"

     She managed to squirm away from him and jump up. She grabbed a knife off the island bar and pointed at him. Her long hair was now down and flowing freely. Her shirt was torn and her hands shaking.

     "Stay away from me, Dmitry," she screamed, taking a jab at him.

     "Royal, what the fuck?" Dmitry's eyes were fixed on the knife. "Put that thing away." His voice was still calm and quiet. His continued sensibility frightened Royal even more.

     "I
won't
let you kill me!" She was frantic.

     "What? I would never harm you." He raised his hands so that she could see. "Look, baby. No guns, no knives. Just me."

     "I saw what you did to her," she said crying. "Why?"

     "Because the bitch was trying to kill me. She was a ruthless killer. She wasn't like you," he explained.

     "You're a liar!" she backed away from him. "Stay away from me, Dmitry." She held the knife sturdy. "I'm warning you. I'm getting out of this place right now, and you're not going to stop me!"

     Dmitry looked at the garage door. "I can't let you leave, Royal. It's not safe."

     "For who? You?"

     "No, for you."

     "Bullshit! I don't believe you. I don't believe anything that you say." She shook her head and looked over at the door. How she wanted to just get away.

     Dmitry walked closer to her. "I would never hurt you. You have to know that."

     The bodyguards heard the commotion and entered the kitchen behind Dmitry. They were astonished to find Royal wielding a knife at their boss. They looked on confused. Dmitry shook his head at them and waved them off.

     "Leave," he said firmly. "Now!"

     They walked out slowly looking both at Royal and each other. Once they had gone, Dmitry walked closer to her. She kept the knife pointed at him, backing herself into a corner like a scared animal, desperate to defend herself.

     Dmitry stretched his arm out to her and opened his hand. In it was Royal's ring.

     "I'm the same man that gave you this ring. Please don't let them tear us apart," he pleaded. "Baby, listen to me. Listen. You're all that I have. I can't lose you. I can't live without you."

     "The man that gave me this ring is a monster," she said crying. She wiped her eyes. "He's a liar! To think that I actually trusted you."

     Dmitry shook his head. It killed him to hear her say the words. The knife would only quicken his suffering. He walked all the way up to her with his dress shirt now torn open revealing his rippled, tattooed chest.

     "If you believe that I would ever harm you, go ahead. Kill me now," he said solemnly.

     Royal cried, still holding the knife as he approached. He did not realize just how frightened she was of him until he got closer and realized that her entire body was shaking. What did Agosto tell her?
The truth, probably.

     Dmitry's large body completely overshadowed Royal's, dwarfing her existence in the corner. His size, his presence, his past all scared Royal speechless. She thought of the dead bloody woman and her heart nearly stopped. Revving back, she launched the knife into his arm as he reached for her.

     "I told you to stay the fuck away from me!"

     "Shit!" Dmitry said, grabbing his arm. The knife stuck out of his bicep muscle.

     Royal tried to run past him, but he snatched the knife out of one arm and grabbed her with the other. Fighting, she tried to kick away from him, but he picked her up off the ground. He held her against her will close to him and carried her back upstairs. She screamed as he did, begging for help. Grabbing the staircase banister, she tried to hold on, but he ripped her away from it.

     The bodyguards stood at the foot of the stairwell downstairs watching on as he took her upstairs passed them. They were all unsure of what he would do to her considering the blood pouring down his arm.

     None of them had ever seen Dmitry interact with a woman on this level. No one had ever seen him argue with a woman ever.

     Royal screamed as loud as she could and reached out for the men to help her as Dmitry carried her against her will, but they ignored her pleas. As much as they adored her, they knew their orders and their places.

     If Dmitry chose to take her upstairs and kill her, it would be none of their business. The most that they would be responsible for was getting rid of the body.

     Dmitry carried her crying and kicking to their bedroom again and slammed the door. Setting her down on the ground, he locked the door. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she tried to run to the bathroom. He grabbed her quickly. Upset and scared, she tried to slap him, but he caught her arm.

     "Stop it," he said sternly. "Stop it right now. I won't have any more of this. You've gone mad!" He released her.

     "I've gone mad?" Royal asked, pointing at herself. "I'm not the one who has..."

     "Killed someone?" he interrupted. "I'm not the only
murderer
in this room—just the only one who does not judge."

     "I knew at some point you would use
that
against me."

     There was silence. He looked down at his arm.

     "You killed your own brother's wife? That explains why he's so angry with you. Who would blame him?"

     She could not let the subject go even if it meant her own death. She was baffled by the fact that he could keep something like that from her; deceive her with such disregard for her feelings.

     "I didn't want to do it," he said, hitting the wall. A small painting fell on the ground and broke apart. Royal jumped, startled by his sudden anger.

     "I know that she was my brother's wife. That's what hurts so bad. I had no choice." He tried to explain.

     "Then why did you?"

     "She came to my bed after I found out about one of Ivan's
many
side deals, and I was tempted by her and angry with him. And so," he rubbed his forehead. "I slept with her."

     Royal eyed him as he continued. Even in the middle of talking about a murder, she was mildly jealous of the thought of him being with another woman.

     "I had been with her all that night. Then while I was sleeping in my own bed, she tries to kill me with a fucking knife. While I was fighting with her, the knife cut her up pretty bad. I finally put it to her neck thinking that it would calm her down, but she was insane. She pushed against it and spit at me as it sliced her neck."

     "You expect me to believe that she helped you kill her."

     "It's the truth. No one believes me. She was
insane!"

     "So Ivan hates you for sleeping with his wife and then killing her, and he's the bad guy?"

     "Ivan
is
most definitely the bad guy. He sent her to my bed to kill me. Evidently, his love didn't run too deep—not for me—not for her." He confessed it all without any need for probing. "My baby brother. The man that I had raised from a baby. I went after him. I was going to end this family feud for good, but while I was cutting his throat with the same knife Ari had used on me, he swore to me that she had acted alone.

     "Normally, I would have finished the job just to be sure, but he was my brother and if there was a slim possibility of it being true, I could not risk it. So, even though I cut him, I took him to hospital. They said that he would be okay. And then I left and I came here. I could barely live with what I had done, even though it wasn't my fault."

     "Is that why I'm in trouble? Why you wouldn't marry me?"

     "Yes. I am what I am. I held true to my code, because it was all that I had before I had you."

     "Besides murders connected to your immediate family, any others I should know about?"

     Dmitry was silent and unwilling to answer that question.

     So Royal continued. "And the girls aren't yours?"

     "No. You know that my mother was prostitute. I would never..."

     "And the mafia?"

     "In a matter of days, I will no longer be the head of the Vory v Zakone here."

    
"
Oh
my God,
Dmitry," Royal said, shaking her head. "It's true? You're like some Don Corleone?"

     "It's overblown, trust me."

     Royal was completely flabbergasted, looking at him standing by the door with blood dripping down his arm and ruining the carpet. She had unknowingly hooked up with one of the largest organized crime bosses in the United States. What an idiot, she thought to herself.

     Dmitry cleared his throat and shifted a little, trying to ignore the pain. He wanted her to say something, anything that would let him know that she would stay. He raised his eyebrow and sighed.

     "I don't want you to leave." His voice was just above a whisper.

     "At least you know what you want," Royal crossed her arms. "You've been lying to me for months now, Dmitry. Why should I stay? I don't even know who you really are."

     "I never lied to you," he growled.

     "Bullshit. You lied!" Royal snapped.

     "You'll never know everything about me, Royal. It doesn't work that way."

     "If it can't
work that way,
then I don't want to be here."

     "I'm not a child. I don't do ultimatums. You won't be able to stomp your feet and get your way. I know that I have spoiled you, but there has to be still some resemblance of common sense inside of your head. Look at the life you lead. Go on, look around." His voice rose. "What did you
think
that I did for a living?"

     "What you told me that you did! I trusted you enough to believe your lies," Royal responded, livid. "I never lied to you."

     "Fuck you," Royal said, grabbing her purse. Tears started to form at the corners of her eyes again. "You're so full of it. I don't have to stay here and take this."

     "You're not leaving until I'm finished!" Dmitry stood in front of the door. He breathed heavily and grabbed his arm. "Then... go if you must," he shook his head.

     His words deflated her. She did not want to go, but she did want the truth, to be able to trust him.

     "My life is very complicated, and I don't ever plan to tell everything that I've done. I will not confess my sins at your feet. Neither you nor I could take it." His eyes watered from the pain. "But I will tell you that I love you, and since the day that you said that you'd be mine; I've made plans to spend a quiet, safe life with you. It's just going to take time. I am what I am, Royal. I've kept that away from you for your own good. My kindness to you has been genuine; my love for you has been the same, but there is another side of me."

     "Which side reigns supreme?"

     "My desire to be rid of this, to live a life with you."      "Can you just walk away from all of this?"

     "Yes. It's just going to take time."

"How much time, Dmitry? Am I going to have to wait until you're seventy to really have you? I won't kiss the ring, man. I didn't sign up for this." She turned away.

     Dmitry tamped his anger. "When have I ever asked you to
wait
on me to do anything? I asked you to marry me, because I want to be with you. But it's good really that you know now. You have sometime to truly make your decision—now that you know. I just want to ensure that my son is left a legacy that is truly worth something regardless of your decision. Believe it or not, other people's lives are at stake here."

     "You want Anatoly to live like this?" she asked angrily, turning back around.

     "What I want is not important. The point is that he's doing it. He's a man, and I have to make sure that he is taken care of before I go. I owe him that."

     "How do I know that you won't go back to living the way that you did before?" She sobbed. "It's not like I would ever really know. I wouldn't know now if the FBI hadn't held me at gun point in the," she kicked the side of the bed in frustration. "… freaking tub. I had lasers on my body for no damned reason at all, like I was a criminal!"

     "I give you my word, woman." He walked to her slowly. "Give me a chance to clean things up. All I need is a little time, and we can leave. You told me that you wanted to go to Prague, eh. Remember? Well, let's go. Let's open a restaurant and boutique on a cobblestone street in Prague and grow old together chasing our little children around."

     The idea rang in her ears. Happiness. A new start.

     "Don't sell me lies, Dmitry. I can't take it," she cried, as he walked closer. She held herself and let the tears fall down her face. "I can't take it. Damn you."

     "I know, baby. I would never do that to you." He walked up to her and held her close. Kissing the top of her head, he whispered. "I love you. I love you. I love you."

     She cried as she buried her face in his large chest. In pain, he wrapped his arms around her.