Dmitry's Royal Flush: Rise of the Queen (10 page)

She ran her fingers down her burning body and sighed as the hard nails dug into her flesh.
Ahh
. That felt… good.

She sat up quickly. Something was wrong. Maybe she was having withdrawal from being clean for a day—valium, no alcohol. No. She shook her head at the thought. This was something else. The lights seemed to shine directly into her eyes, blinding her.

Getting off the bed, she went and turned off the light. In the darkness, she stood half-dressed and afraid. Something was happening to her.

Her heart raced. Her skin crawled. The room spun so fast until she had to close her eyes to make it stop. Placing her hands on her ears, she took deep breaths. Calm down! she commanded herself. But the confusion had taken on a life of its own.

Desperate she ran into closet, hitting her shoulder on the door and falling down on the floor. She looked up at the light disoriented. Pulling herself up off the ground, she went to her drawer and pulled out a hidden bottle of vodka.

She just needed something to calm down. Opening the bottle, she turned it up and drank it quickly. Wiping her mouth, she laid back down on the ground and took a deep breath.
That wasn’t smart,
she thought to herself as the room began to spin.

Tears ran down her face. Why she didn't know, but suddenly, she could see Ivan. She could feel him on her skin.

"No," she said breathing hard.

"No… no… .no!" She pulled her skirt, ripping it as she did so. Was she hallucinating? She could smell his cologne, hear his deep, baritone voice, feel him. "No!" she screamed. "IVAN!"

Her anxiety escalated within seconds and she found herself nearly hyperventilating in the closet, where no one could hear her or save her from herself. Holding herself tight, she rocked in the closet, nearly naked and screaming.

Dmitry couldn't wait. The urgency in his chest would no longer let him. He urged the men to dock, and he left nearly in a run back to the hotel. He had tried to call Royal several times on her personal cell, yet no one answered. She always answered. He ran up to his room, grabbed his laptop and left his clothes. A car was waiting for him at the steps of the hotel. He jumped in and had the chauffeur hightail it to the airport. Within thirty minutes, he was on his jet.

The flight had been less than torturous. When he arrived in Prague, he was severely distressed, though he didn't know why. He couldn't move fast enough. He had left all of his clothes back in Sochi along with his Rolex and his shoes in a fit of a rush.

When the jet landed, he was on the helicopter in minutes and only a short distance away from his wife. He dialed Davyd but did not get an answer. Evidently he was asleep. He finally called the house phone. Surprisingly, Victoria answered.

"Victoria!" Dmitry sat up.

"Yes," Victoria said softly.

"Is… is Royal… I mean, is my wife alright?"

"Yeah. She went to bed nearly an hour ago. I was just downstairs, and I heard the phone ring. I hope you don't mind me answering it."

"No, of course not. Where is Davyd?"

"I think he's asleep. He checked everything right after Royal went up to her room."

"Well, I am not far from home. Can you let her know that I'm on my way, and I look a little different? I don't want to scare her."

"Scare her?"

"Da Da. Tell her I don't quite look myself. She won't answer her phone, but she needs to know before I get there. I don't want to startle her."

"Oh… okay." Victoria rolled her eyes. He treated Mrs. Medlov like she was such big shit. Who cared what he looked like? "If you don't mind, I'll run upstairs to the second floor and tell her now," she said.

"That would be wonderful," Dmitry sat back more relaxed. "I'll be home very soon."

"Good," Victoria said.
Counting on it
, she thought to herself as she hung up the phone.

Instead of going to tell Royal, she sprayed her perfume on and made sure that her hair was perfect. She had waited for Davyd to go to bed, waited for the help to retire, waited for Dmitry to come home. If she was going to have a chance with him, it would have to be tonight. Mrs. Medlov, after all, had plans of getting rid of her first thing in the morning.

Minutes later, the helicopter landed in the courtyard, blowing debris around in twisters of wind as hit the ground with lights shining right into the chateau. Dmitry stepped out of the helicopter with his laptop and saw Royal's window open. She was standing in it, nearly naked. He looked up at her curiously and then ran to the front door.

Royal closed the curtain as the helicopter took off. She knew it. Ivan wasn't dead. Tears ran down her eyes. Shaking, she ran out of her room as fast as she could, still half-dressed, down the hall to her daughters room. She burst through the door and picked her sleeping daughter up.

"Mommy?" Anya asked afraid as she clutched her mother's neck.

"We have to go, baby," Royal whispered, still shaking. "Mommy has to get you to safety."

Running with her daughter in her arms, she sprinted to Anatoly's room and pulled open the dresser drawers. Throwing clothes, she finally pulled out a large gun and cocked it.

"Stay here," Royal ordered, opening up Anatoly's closet. "Hide, baby, until I come back for you." Tears ran down her face. She bent down to her crying child and kissed her red cheeks. "I love you." Pushing her daughter into the closet, she locked it behind her and headed back out of the room with the gun in her hand.

Dmitry was confused and alarmed by the look of his wife. Victoria opened the large doors to greet him, but he whisked past her and ran up the long stairway. His feet could barely keep up with his speed.

"Royal!" he shouted as he arrived on the second floor.

He looked down the long, dark corridor and saw her coming towards him. Her silhouette was beautiful. Long, dark hair wrapped around her nearly naked body. In a pair of stilettos and a black silk slip, she raised what appeared to be a gun as she ran towards him.

He squinted and then hit the light switch to see the gun raised.

"Royal!" he shouted as he ducked.

Bullets whizzed past him. He took cover in the doorway.

"Ivan, you son of bitch! I knew it! Where is my husband?" she screamed, walking fast towards him. "If you killed him!"

"Baby, it's me!" Dmitry said as he saw Davyd come running up the stairs with guns in both hands. He signaled him not to shoot.

"Dmitry?" he said, making his way to his boss. He barely missed being shot as he did.

"Royal has gone mad," Dmitry said, reaching into his holster and pulling out his gun.

"Are you going to shoot her?" Davyd asked mortified.

"No! I want to make sure that she knows I'm not armed."

"Come out, you coward!" she ordered, shooting and blowing out a chunk of the wall. "You came here for me and my baby? I'm going to kill you myself! This time I'll know for sure that you're dead!" She shot again.

"Fuck," Dmitry said ducking. "Royal it's me. I… I changed my hair color. I wanted to try something new for you. It was way to make you stop always thinking of Ivan and maybe think of Anya more as mine." It was amazing what kind of lies he could come up with at gun point.

He and Davyd both heard the shots getting closer.

"Maybe she'll run out of bullets," Davyd hoped.

They heard her duck behind a door and reload. The magazine hit the floor as she shoved another inside the gun.

"Not a chance," Dmitry said. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Finally, he handed Davyd the gun and shook his head. "Don't shoot her, no matter what," he said solemnly.

"You can't go out there," Davyd said, holding him back.

"I have to," Dmitry growled, pulling away his hand. "I have to. It's my fault."

Royal reloaded and walked closer, making her way down the long corridor. "Come out!" she screamed, shooting another round with tears in her eyes.

Dmitry moved from behind the door and stood in the hallway. "Royal, it's me. It's Dmitry. Ivan is dead, sweetheart. Just like we discussed last night."

Royal had the gun pointed at him. Even with many feet between them, she could hear something different in his voice, something familiar. She shook her head and grasped the gun with both hands.

"Liar!" she screamed.

"I came home like I promised." Dmitry raised his hands. "Look, no guns, baby." He took off his coat.

"Royal, it's Dmitry!" Davyd shouted. "It's Dmitry! God, can't you see that! You're about to kill your own husband!"

The room was still spinning. Royal wiped the tears and held the gun sturdy.
Could it be?
She walked closer towards him.

"Don't you fucking move!" she commanded.

"I won't," Dmitry said with his hands in the air.

In a mean sway, Royal advanced towards him. Tears in her eyes, sweating and shaking, she got closer. As she did so, her eyes fluttered. It was Dmitry! The gun began to shake. She looked up at her husband in the eyes.

By now, the floor was surrounded with men with guns, all unsure if they should point it at the mistress of the house or watch their boss die.

Dmitry stood still. Davyd stood only steps behind him, pleading with her and behind him Stepan stood with several other men.

When Royal was only a few feet from Dmitry, she took a deep breath. It was him. She clicked the safety on and dropped the gun in disbelief. Putting her hands over her mouth, she started to cry.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry," she said in disgust. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know." Tears fell down her cheeks on to her collar bone.

Dmitry put his hands down and sighed. His heart was nearly in his throat. He had never imagined dying at his wife's hands before. He could handle it from anyone except her.

He walked closer to her and saw that she was completely distraught, but something else was wrong. Her pupils were dilated. Her skin was clammy and shaking.

"Baby," he said sympathetically.

As he reached for her, she fainted.

Catching her before she hit the ground, he picked her up and waved off his men. "She's alright," he said, checking her pulse. "Davyd!" he looked behind him. "Call the doctor. Tell him to get over here right now."

The house seemed to move in slow motion as Davyd ran passed Dmitry to find Anya. He and Stepan ran to her room and found it empty. Instinctively, Davyd ran to Anatoly's room, where he heard the young child screaming and beating on the closet door to get out. He didn't have a key, so he told her stand back and kicked it open.

Terrified, the girl stood in the back of the closet, screaming out for her mommy. He picked her up and held her tight as he whispered sweet, calming words into her ear.

Dmitry took his wife into their bedroom and closed the door. Carefully, he laid her on the bed and covered her in the sheets. He smelled vodka all over her. He couldn't understand. She had promised, and Royal would never break her promise.

He sat beside her on the bed with his hands covering his face. He had failed her again. As he looked up, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror across he room. All that he could see was Ivan.

Disgusted, he got up from the bed and wiped the tears from his eyes.

Davyd walked in and stopped at the doorway. He looked over at the bed to Royal.

"Anya is back in her room. I had Victoria stay in there with her until she falls back to sleep," he informed his boss.

"I'll be in to check on her in a minute," Dmitry said drained. "Is she physically hurt, Davyd?"

"No. She's just shook up. Is Royal going to be alright?" Davyd asked.

Dmitry looked over at Royal. "I don't know."

"Well to help things, you might want to do something with that hair,
eh
?"

Dmitry sighed and smirked. "I think it's what set her off. She told me before I left that she felt like he would just show up one day."

"Looks like her worst fears came true. See to your wife. I'll take care of everything else," Davyd said, closing the door behind him."

Dmitry went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He looked in the mirror in sheer disgust. If he had just stayed, none of this would have happened. Royal had finally started to open up and what did he do? He brought it all back to her doorstep.

Reaching into the cupboard, he pulled out a black container and opened it to find a pair of unused clippers.

He plugged them in, leaned over into the sink and pulled the hair back off of his forehead. Running his thumb over the switch, he ran them down the middle of his wavy hair and watched it fall into the water basin.

Victoria waited with Anya until she fell asleep. She sat quietly in the chair in the corner of the bedroom in the dark wondering how in the hell things had gotten so out of the control. She was supposed to be mounting Dmitry at this very moment in the silence of a quiet mansion.

Now, there were maids and a butler pulling bullets out of the wall. The letter of recommendation was definitely out of the question along with the possibility of a full years pay. All she could hope was that Dmitry wouldn't ask her if she had told Mrs. Medlov about his change or not. She didn't see why changing his hair color was such a big deal, and she wondered why he had continued to call her Royal. She thought the woman's name was Chloe.

The bedroom door opened slowly, and she saw a massive frame darkening the entryway. It was Dmitry. He came in without acknowledging her presence and went over to his daughter. Bending down on his knees, he ran his hands through her hair. Anya sniffled at little and then turned her back to him and continued to sleep.

Dmitry crumpled over from exhaustion and sighed. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of Victoria. He looked over at her quickly.

"Victoria?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I need to talk to you," he said, standing up.

"Meet me in my study. I'll be down in a minute."

"Yes, sir," she repeated.

She noticed his drastic change from a curly brunette to now a short, nearly bald fade. She was still confused as to why his changing his hair color had created a near massacre of the entire household.
Yet another mystery of this already elusive family.