Dmitry's Royal Flush: Rise of the Queen (16 page)

"I'm only using her to cover my ass. I'll get rid of her in a few months."

"Bullshit."

"I don't love her."

"Can't help who you love."

"If I start to fall for her, I'll put bullet in her head."

Dmitry didn't say another word. He gave his son a disapproving look and tasted his borscht. ***

Royal washed her daughters hair carefully, separating the delicate strands and brushing through the curly black locks one section at a time. She had been doting over Anya for over an hour now in the bathroom.

While the act was so small, it was so meaningful. Where had all the time gone? What had she been doing for months on end that she would have missed her small angel grow so much? The questions brought tears to her eyes. This was what she lived for, to be with the child that she nearly died for and would die for again over and over if she had to.

"Momma, why are being so nice?" Anya asked, squeezing her rubber ducky until it squealed and shot out water. "You are being my best friend again."

Royal smiled while inside her heart broke. "I'm sorry, Anya, for everything. I'm being nice, because I realize that I need to treat you more special than I have in the past."

"So you love me now?"

"I've always loved you." She turned her daughters face towards her own and rubbed the water from her rosy cheeks. "Don't you know that Momma would do anything for you?"

"Yes," she said proudly. "And I'll do anything for you and Daddy. I'll be four next month. I can buy you both two white ponies."

"Just what we've always wanted," Royal brushed through her hair again. "It's quite a big feat to make it to four years old. We should have a big princess party for you."

"Did you have a princess party when you turned four?"

"No, I wasn't as special as you are."

"Momma, you are too special. Daddy says so all the time."

Dmitry walked into the bathroom and smiled at the sight of his wife and daughter. Grabbing a chair from across the room, he sat beside the tub and put a towel in his lap. "Let Papa dry you off, princess."

Royal helped her out of the large bathtub and into her fathers arms, where he quickly covered her with the oversized towel. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"Love you, Daddy," she said, rubbing her nose on his.

"Oh, I love you too, my sweet one," he said, holding her tight. He looked up at his wife and saw hurt on her face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just," she sighed. "I realize how much I've neglected my own daughter."

Dmitry dried Anya off and pulled her hair out of her face. "When I was child, I would have killed for the attention that you call neglect," he said cleverly. "And if you were to ask me, Anya doesn't look like she's going without much." He ran his large fingers over the carat diamonds in his daughters ears.

Royal knew that he was just trying to make her feel better. She took her daughter out of his arms and put her on her hip. "I'm going to get her dressed, and were going to go downstairs and have a great time. Aren't we, Anya." She smiled at him more warmly than she had in many years.

"Papa is making borscht for you," Dmitry added. "It's going to be great time."

"Do you know how lucky we are to have your father," Royal asked her daughter.

"Yep," Anya said cheerfully. "Daddy, you need to get dressed too. You can't wear that."

"I will honey, after Momma gets you dressed, she'll come back and help me with a few things," he explained. His eyes sparkled. "Then Daddy will help her get dressed and then we go down for party."

* * *

While every arrangement could be made downstairs, and Anya helped the maids set the tables with beautiful Khokloma dishes, Royal and Dmitry were getting reacquainted with each other in the confines of their bedroom.

He stood across the dimly lit room by the bed undressing her with his eyes. His sensual looks made her blush, made heat rise from her body and singe her cheeks.

He had a way of clenching his wide jaw and staring at her that made her feel naked, even when she was fully dressed. He licked his lips and smirked. Naughty thoughts filled his head, making him dizzy with lust.

"I could get used to this," he confessed.

"So could I," she said, happy with herself.

"Are you… back for good, or is this a glimpse of what I could have had?"

She walked very slowly across the room, making him watch the sway of her hips and stood at his feet. Laying her hand on his lower chest, she watched him take a deep breath, like he was anticipating lightning and thunder.

"I'm back for good," she whispered. "Or at least for as long as you'll have me."

He grabbed her quickly and pulled her up in his arms. With a passionate sigh, he kissed her open mouth and laid her on the bed.

"Oh, I'll have you," he answered. "Every day for the rest of my life."

"It's strange. I don't know what happened. The thought of losing you to another woman made me realize how much I needed you. I've been so foolish, Dmitry. All I've thought about is myself and what I've gone through, but I didn't stop long enough to think about you and all that you've given up to be with me and Anya."

"I've given up nothing."

The words stung inside. He knew that they were true and that he was deceiving her even as he made love to her. The treachery was nauseating. Still, he hid his heavy burden in hopes that after the deal his secret would simply go away.

"You should never be ashamed of your sadness." He cringed. "The fact that you showed honest emotion and were not afraid to grieve for your many losses shows how much of a real woman you are. I could not have handled the same torture that you endured with such dignity."

Royal smiled. "Do you know in all the time that we've been together you have never said one mean thing to me? It's almost unreal. I mean, I know how much of a bitch that I've been. Don't think that I don't." They both laughed. "But you always are careful with me, never cruel."

"Why would I? You are the only woman who has ever sacrificed everything for me. And at such a high cost… "

"Lets not talk about that. Lets do what your eyes were saying a minute ago," she said, running her hands down to his jeans.

"I'm afraid what they were saying involved actions so distasteful, so… " he breathed in as he felt her slim hand slip inside of his pants and grasp his throbbing penis. "So you like distasteful, eh?"

"I adore it," she purred.

Dawn broke the horizon and slipped through the heavy curtains in Anatoly's room. He stared up at the ceiling watching the large fan whirl above him. His mind was on Victoria. If he closed his eyes, he saw her. When he breathed, he smelled her perfume. The thought of that wicked bitch incited a riot throughout his entire body. Damn her to hell. He had to have her, even if just once.

The night before, his father had eyed him the entire dinner. And for some ungodly reason, Brigitte clung to him in a very subtle but irritating way. While everyone else was eating, drinking and talking, she sat close, smiled at him and continued to try to make conversation.

He had to end things with her, make her go away. His life was getting far too complicated. Just then he heard his door open.

He sat up in bed and watched as Brigitte closed the door behind her and leaned against the door in her baby blue uniform.

"
Bon jour
," she whispered with a wanting look upon her fair beautiful features.

Anatoly did not speak. Though he could not deny his constant enchantment by her utter bewitching good looks, he knew he was no good for her. He tapped the bed beside him and ran his hands through his hair.

She walked up to the bed and sat beside him. Rubbing his scruffy beard, she leaned in to kiss him, but he quickly moved.

"
Net
. We need to talk," his voice was flat.

"So talk," she said, feeling her stomach turn.

"We can't do this anymore." He met her bright eyes.

"Why?"

"You are good girl. You need man who will be faithful and loving and… take care of you. I will not. I may tell you that I will, but I won't."

"I don't want your money."

"I'm not talking about money. I'm talking about you."

"Anatoly… "

"I am not my father," he interrupted. "Don't think that what he does for my stepmother will translate to me and you. I'm not that sincere."

"I know. I just thought… "

"It won't work. I don't want it to."

"Did I do something?" Tears formed in the corner of her eyes and her small mouth quivered.

He scratched his forehead and frowned. "No. It's not you at all."
It’s her
, he thought to himself. "How is your mother? Is she better?" he asked, wanting to change the subject. His decision had been made. This would end now.

"No. Pretty soon I'll be all alone in this world." Tears ran down her face. Closing her eyes, she dropped her head. It felt as though the entire world had just stopped spinning.

"Well, you'll always have my parents," he stood up. "I've got to shower and head out of here. I really am sorry, Brigitte." He rubbed her shoulder. "I'm still here if you need anything…
financially
."

"I won't." She stood up, straightened her uniform and left.

* * *

Brigitte left Anatoly's room with her head up, but as soon as she closed the large doors behind her, the tears broke through and trickled down her face.

Lips twisted into a painful frown, she ran down the dark corridor to the kitchen -the only place she knew was vacant at this hour. Her feet carried her swiftly. She could feel her stomach twisting into knots as though she would vomit. The rain of tears evident on her face, ruining her makeup, she fled down the stairwell and down the back pathway to the kitchen.

Barging through the doors, she leaned on the counter and let out of agonizing sob. Damn him to hell for hurting her.

Dmitry took his spoon out of the peanut butter and whipped his head around the door of the cupboard to see Brigitte bent over the table crying.

Wiping his mouth, he placed the jar back in the far corner of his stash of treats and closed the door. Immediately, she stood up, out of breath and flushed.

In his robe, he walked over to her and sat down on a stool by the island. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that either her mother had died, or Anatoly had struck. Based upon the mere rage in her eyes, he knew that it had something to do with the latter.

"Brigitte, what is the matter?" he asked in a tranquil, soothing voice.

She wiped her face quickly, embarrassed by her display of horrid, raw emotion. "Excuse me, sir, for my outburst. I thought I was alone," she explained between sniffs.

"You are not," he said, reached over to the large bowl to take out a few cherries. "Would you like one?"

"No," she said, blinking fast to stop the tears. "I'm sorry, sir."

"It's alright. I have wife and daughter. I see tears more than any other man in the world, besides maybe a pediatrician."

She laughed.

"So, what is wrong? Has your mother passed?"

"No." She sighed. "Thank God. She still fights every single day." Forced to smile at her mothers strength, she finally stood up straight and smoothed out her wrinkled uniform.

"Then what would make your cry so badly at dawn?"

"Your son." She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. "I'm afraid that I am just not good enough for him or bad enough."

Dmitry smiled. His beautiful features were laced with old wisdom. He popped the cherry seed out of his mouth into his hand and grabbed a napkin. "Did he tell you that, or did you assume it?"

"How can I assume anything different? He broke up with me," she lamented.

"Brigitte, you are good girl. I assume he did it, because he cares for you, and he is not yet ready for responsibility of caring for such a good woman."

"You Medlov men use the term „good girl a lot." She nodded at him then looked up at the ceiling as she bit her lip. "But you offer no explanation as to why good is bad for you."

Dmitry raised his brow. "I think you know. Everyone who works for us knows. We are not men of respectable character. It is a curse to have a good woman at your side and find her hurt because of your misdeeds. The safest thing is to not allow her to be at your side."

"I've heard the stories. I do not care," she began to cry. "I would do anything to be with him."

"Why?"

"Because I love him."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just do. And I was hoping that someday he would love me back."

"And because he knows that
that someday
will never come, he would no longer lead you on." He pushed the bowl down to her and watched her pull out a few cherries for herself. "This is sad that you have found yourself in love with someone who does not love you, but it is good also."

"How?" She wiped the tears from her mouth.

"Because you leave yourself open to find someone who does love you and will stand by you. Do not look at it as a negative. It is simply Gods way of leading you to right person."

"Of course, you can speak like this when you have a woman like Mistress Medlov to love. She is strong and beautiful, and she loves you more than even herself." Brigitte feared she had said too much but could not stop.

"Your words are kind. To know that you have known this since before our reconciliation makes me… happy. But do you see how pained she has been for years?"

"Yes."

"It is because of me. And Anatoly will not see you pained in same way. For that, I am proud of him and happy for you. Trust me, your feelings for him will dull in months if not weeks. After all, he has never properly presented you in public. Every woman deserves to be presented, whether the man is poor or rich has nothing to do with his pride in his selection. When you find man who treats you like queen, regardless of his status in world, you have found the man you should spend rest of your life with… not a man who will have you in is bed but not in his life."

Dmitry's words were sobering and broken. His English was always worse when he first woke up, when no one was around to correct him, namely Royal. But his words caused her to sit up straighter and feel better about herself.