Dmitry's Closet (4 page)

     A tall, breathtaking woman got in on the other side of the limo adorning gold jewelry, a short white silk dress and gold stilettos. She instantly reached for the bottle of water in the side compartment. Hot and frustrated, she looked over at him typing away on his Blackberry and scoffed.

     "Why do you stay in this hell hole?" she asked incensed by the heat. Her Russian accent was as thick as his, only she was far more arrogant.

     Dmitry looked over at her and then sat back in his seat.

     "Anatoly, take me to Royal. I want to see what she is up to," he ordered, ignoring the woman.

     "Who is
Royal?"

     "She is shopkeeper for my newest store. It's coming all together, perfectly. We'll be ready to open in two weeks."

     He looked over at her to see if what he assumed was correct. It was. His companion had cut him off already. Whenever he began to talk about anything other than her, she tuned him out. With her long porcelain legs crossed, she rested back on the leather seat massaging her temples.

     "What time is show tonight?" she asked, changing the subject.

     "Nine."

     "Well, I don't want to go hang out in closed store while you work."

     Dmitry looked over at her again, this time slightly annoyed. Dahlia was no rocket scientist, but she was remarkably beautiful. Only a few inches shorter than Dmitry in her stiletto heels, she was six feet two and stunning. Her eyes were a shade of deep blue that reminded him of the Baltic Sea, her hair naturally platinum blonde and her bone structure rivaled the Heidi Klums of the world. She was a perfect muse, great for runways and billboards—slim, tall but shockingly empty. Unfortunately, outside of sleeping with her, he found her completely dull, even if she was a grand show piece.

     "I will have Anatoly take you to hotel after he drops me by my store."

     Feeling that he had given her far too much attention, Dmitry turned his focus back to his Blackberry and remained engrossed in his business the remainder of their drive.

∞♥∞

    
Dmitry's Closet
was closed to the public and the many downtown dwellers that had pushed their faces up to the glass to see into the intriguing building, but inside it was alive with music, lights and boxes, all being animated by Royal, who had the stereo blasting as she worked.

     Alone in the large building, she fell over mannequins, wooden hangers and plastic bags, as she tried to wrap up the first part of her day to go have a late lunch upstairs in her bedroom. All she could think about was a nice quick power nap and a hot shower.

     She looked around the boutique at how far it had come in such a little time and sighed in wonderment. All the things that Dmitry had spoken of were coming to fruition right before her very eyes. It had become more than a job to Royal; it had become her passion. He had fed it into her daily with his constant support and his ever trusting guidance.

     Dmitry was equally inspired, constantly bringing over his friends and colleagues to see his newest project, and from what little she had learned about Dmitry, he had quite a few of them. Everyone who was able to sneak a peak of the place left in awe and gave him nothing but good reviews on the shop and her.

     According to her boss, she was dependable, on schedule and under budget. So in his eyes, she was on point. A little smile crept from the sides of her mouth as she relished in her accomplishment.

     Plus, she always liked pleasing Dmitry. It was the way that he conveyed his appreciation that was so special, always with an endearing kiss on the forehead, a gift of precious stones and a look that swallowed her whole. His eyes would capture her in the middle of all of their conversations. They would burn through her thoughts like lasers before he drowned her with his silky voice and his cool demeanor. That was Dmitry. She was sure that he had that affect on everyone. She brushed it off now. After all, what was she to him? An employee.

     Needing motivation, she grabbed the remote, turned off the stereo and turned on the large 72" plasma television mounted against the back wall. CNN's
Black in America 2
was showing. Seen it. Twice. But it would do. She just needed something to keep her going.

     "Let's do this," she said slapping her hands together.

     "Yes... let's," Dmitry replied standing in the back of the shop watching her.

     "Dmitry!" she turned and exclaimed both happy to see him and shocked that he was back so soon. "I thought that your business in New York would keep you longer?"

     "I closed the deal and moved on," he said, shrugging his shoulders. His smile was smug and confident, but his eyes were happy to see her. They sparkled in exhilaration.

     She set down her hangers on the wooden floor and bounced over to greet him. Dmitry watched in complete satisfaction. Royal wore a pair of denim skinny-legged jeans, a grey tank top that showed the round melon-like shape of her breasts and her hair in a ponytail. She was such a simplistic beauty, a refreshing contrast from Dahlia. He smiled wider, this time more appreciative to be in her presence.

     "Sorry, I look a mess," she said, noticing his stare but misinterpreting it. "However, I've gotten tons done since you left." She ran her fingers down her long, bo-legs and turned to look at the store. "It's really coming along." She sighed proudly and turned back around to him. Her long ponytail danced behind her.

     "You're doing a great job." He moved her long mane from her shoulders affectionately.

     "Thanks. It's just that we are getting closer and closer to opening, and I'm getting so nervous." They walked as she talked. "I want you to look over the numbers again. I don't know how you're doing it, but the purchase of these clothes at these prices has saved us a bundle. We are nearly twenty-five percent under budget right now." Her eyes were bright with enthusiasm.

     "Due largely to you," Dmitry added, lightly touching her arms. He could never keep his hands to himself around her. "I'm very, very proud of you, Royal. You have exceeded all my expectations."

     "Wow, Dmitry," Royal said, a little choked up. "Thanks. That means a lot."

     "You're welcome," he sighed, remembering to pull himself from her trance. He blinked hard. "I've got something for you."

     He reached into his pocket but didn't take his eyes off of her.

     "What's this?" she asked.

     "Thank-you gift," he said, leaning over her body to give her his present. "Another one?"

     "Open it now," he urged.

     Royal was never uncomfortable to be close to him. Dmitry found that odd. She was so close until he could smell her sweet perfume and the sweat of a long day's work. But she did not back away. She stood there as if to say that this was her space and if he felt uncomfortable, he should step away. But he did not; he stood closer—as close as he could.

     She looked up at him with huge, cat eyes and smiled, recognizing the teal blue box wrapped in a white ribbon. Tiffany's.

     Dmitry constantly showered her with gifts, and she let him. However, he wasn't sure if she allowed him to because she felt that she deserved it,
which she did,
or if was because she understood his growing attraction to her and felt the same. Either way, he was glad that she accepted his gifts, and he looked forward to giving her something that they both could enjoy in the very near future. He smiled devilishly at the thought.

     "This is beautiful," she said, looking at the diamond earrings. They sparkled like his eyes. She liked that most. Constant reminders of him.

     "They are two carats. You should wear them out on town, on date." He winked at her.

     "A date with who, Dmitry?" She chuckled. "My job is my life."

     There it was—a window of opportunity to pry into Royal's life. She was a closed book to him, never referencing family or friends. All that she ever did was work. When she was not working, she was… well, he did not know what she did when she was not working. He doubted that she did very much.

     "You are beautiful woman, Royal. Why is it there is no one to love you?" He stood behind her as she looked in the mirror and put on the earrings. Carefully, he pulled her long black strands of hair up so that she could better see the diamonds. Her back rested against his chest, breathing synchronously with him.

     The touch of his strong hands to her warm skin sent chills down her body. She caught herself gasping a little. Dmitry mouth watered. As short as she was, he could easily bend down and kiss her wet lips now. All he needed was one kiss. He had been longing for a month to see what beautiful actually tasted like.

     "I don't have time to date," Royal said, barely looking up. Her skinned turned red as she blushed. "I don't want to make time either." Her eyebrows spiked at him, hinting that the conversation was over, but there was a curious part of Dmitry that died to know more.

     He continued. "Don't you ever want to go out?"

     "I do. Just the other day, I caught a movie."

     "I mean with other people, with man?"

     Royal sighed. Dmitry was so nosy. She folded her arms and perched her mouth. "I don't have time to fall in love. I'm busy trying to form a life for myself here. I'm young. There will be plenty of time for all of that later."

     Dmitry laughed. His deep voiced vibrated throughout the back of the store. He leaned his long, sexy body against the counter and looked at her. Her innocence reminded him of why he desired her so much, why she constantly set him ablaze.

     "What's so funny, Dmitry?" Royal asked, giving him an evil eye.

    
"You
are funny." He reached out for her arm and pulled her closer to him. "But you don't fool me. You need man in your life. Someone to make that beautiful brown skin of yours glow. You try to be tough, but your needs are no different from any other woman's." He rubbed his large hand across her cheek.

     "A man, huh? Oil of Olay makes your skin glow, not men. Besides, how can you talk? I haven't seen you with a woman the entire time that I've been here, and I know that you're not gay. So evidently, you don't have time either."

     Royal marveled at his arrogant grace. He was dressed in a tailored black Armani suit, looking and smelling like a million dollars.

     His hair curled in golden locks around his tanned skin. And his eyes—they were the same burning prisms ever day—torturing her with horrible thoughts. His look was full of lust and fire. It was trying to consume her now, but she fought him. She could smell his cologne floating around her nose. She stepped away, careful not to fall into him.

     He chuckled and walked closer to her. "That is where you are wrong. I make time. And no, I am not gay. If I were, the gay community would be extremely lucky," Dmitry said quickly. "As matter of fact, a female friend of mine is here in town now for dinner, a show and some personal time."

     "Okay... maybe you're not gay or too busy, but I am," Royal said half-laughing.

     She was close to having him all figured out. He was swaggering around Memphis with a walk that somehow tooted that his big feet may be a definite sign that he was somehow more than blessed in all the right departments. Women probably threw themselves under buses to get to him. Not her. She liked him tremendously, but not enough to jump in the bed with him. She reminded herself of that fact daily to keep her focus and her fleeting sanity.

     He backtracked. "No, Royal. I am not gay. Perhaps, I should have made that clearer to you before. In there lies the problem, eh?"

     Royal brushed off his statement. "Poor little woman. She doesn't know what she's getting into then." She picked up a couple of hangers off the ground and placed them on the rack.

     Dmitry watched on quietly. His thoughts multiplied too fast to process. "You know, you should come too."

     "What?" Royal stopped. "Your accent got in the way that time."

     "You should come to dinner with us. You need to get
out
of house."

     "I thought that's what you said. The answer is no," Royal said, shaking her head.

     "But why, I don't understand."

     "So you can look like a pimp with a white girl and black girl on your arm for dinner? No." Royal put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. "If you want to take me out for dinner, cool. But it won't be with your girlfriend, because I don't get down like that. One woman at a time, Dmitry."

     "Who said that she was my girlfriend, and who said that she was white? You southern Americans are so ridiculous about race," he scoffed.

     "Whatever. It wouldn't matter if she was
the
Mother Teresa, I'm not going."

     "Because it would be with me?"

     "No, because I wouldn't be the center of attention."

     "Oh, you'd like to be the center of my attention?" his interest sparked.

     "Who wouldn't?"

     "Huh," Dmitry puzzled. He bit his lips to prevent himself from uttering one more word.

     "So, do you want to look over the numbers again?" she changed the subject.

     "No." Dmitry stood up and kissed her on her forehead. "Since you won't have dinner with me, I'll leave you here to make love to your boxes," he rubbed her back. "Good night."

     "Stop pouting," she yelled as he walked out of the room. "And enjoy your date." She giggled at his frustration.

Chapter 4

     By eleven o'clock that evening, Royal had retired upstairs to her apartment. Rain tattered at the windows and thunder shook the foundation outside, but inside she was so very comfortable that she barely paid attention to the bad weather. After showering, she crawled in her bed to watch reruns of the
Family Guy
and eat Ben & Jerry's ice cream out of the box.

     The diamonds Dmitry had given her that afternoon inspired her to also purchase a pair of French lace panties and bra that a year ago would have paid for her tuition. She lay in bed now wearing them and enjoying the very exciting, uneventful life that she had only recently acquired.