The Chronicles of Young Dmitry Medlov: Volume 7 (The Medlov Crime Family Short Stories Series) (3 page)

Ever since her brother blew up Dmitry’s skyscraper, she had been a ball of estrogen. He couldn’t quite figure it out, but she seemed concerned about Dorian’s inevitable death. Ivan in no way could sympathize.  She at one time had wanted to kill her brother more than Dmitry.  However, time had healed the wound that her brother had first created.  And now, she was obviously seeing that the grass was greener on the other side. 

Sometimes, he tormented her on purpose just to see if she still had a backbone.  He found her bitter, fruitless rage to be better than dismal complacency and useful when he saw fit.  Despite his growing agitation with her, his affection for her was a mixed-bag.  Their history was soothing, especially when they were alone.  And no matter what, misery loved company.

Ivan walked back in the hotel room and gazed over at Arie curled up in the middle of the bed. 

Her black hair spilled like oil onto the white pillow top.  The sheet wrapped around her naked body, she clung to her dreams as if they were her only refuge.  He stood over her, watching her carefully, deciding whether or not the sight of her in peace was calming or infuriating. 

Bending down, he was about to whisper something in her ear when his mobile phone rang in his pocket.

He fished it out slowly, knowing who it was.

“Da.” he said, rising up from Arie.

Davyd’s unmistakable growl was immediate.

“You up?” Davyd asked.

“Doesn’t it sound like I’m up?” Ivan asked sarcastically.

“Well get here. Your brother wants you to accompany him to the news conference.”  Setting out Dmitry’s notes on his desk in the study, he waved the maid in to set up his boss’s breakfast.

“What can I offer in a press conference?” Ivan scoffed. “My charm? My good looks?”

Davyd cut to the chase. “This is a very important day for Dmitry.  He doesn’t want you somewhere fucking up and making the news while he’s trying to do this.”

“This babysitting has to stop,” Ivan protested. “I’m not a child.”

“No, you are not,” Davyd agreed. “But you’re also not reliable.  Keep proving yourself and your brother will cut you loose.  You know the deal.”

“Should I come as I am or should I wash my ass first?” Ivan quipped.

“Your choice,” Davyd said, hanging up the phone.

Stuffing the phone back down in his pocket, he reached to shake Arie and found that she was awake and quietly looking at him. 

“Is it time to go?” she asked, stretching.  “I’ll just grab my things.”

Boiling angry now, Ivan pulled at his belt.  “No, it’s not time to go,” he said, grabbing her leg and pulling her to the end of the bed.  He snatched off his shirt and threw it on the bed beside her.  Muscles rippling, he bent to her breasts and sucked roughly at one of her ridged nipples. 

The sudden sensation made her back arch. 

Dmitry must have made her husband angry again.  Every single time Ivan was given a directive he either beat someone or screwed someone.  The latter was always better.

Dutifully, she eased down his pants and let them drop to the floor as he spread her legs further apart and pulled her by tiny waist up to his full erection.

The head of his manhood nudged at her entry.  “You’re wet,” he growled in approval.  “Were you dreaming of me?”

“Yes,” she lied, avoiding eye contact with him.

Ivan held her completely off the bed in his all-encompassing embrace.  Her small back rested in his hands, her legs wrapped around his waist. 

“Tell me what you were dreaming,” he urged as he slid into her body. Biting down on his lip, he relished in the feel of her warm flower wrapping around him.

She tried to speak. “I…” The strokes of him inside of her caused her to mute her lies for a moment.

“Tell me.”  Rotating his hips, he could hear the suction of him as he pulled in and out of her in a slow, winding motion.

Arie’s eyes flashed open as he hit her center. “I dreamt that we were in a field making love on a bed of green grass under a warm sun,” she answered with a half-truth.

She had been dreaming of making love, but not with him.

Ivan rested her body against the bed and crawled over her.  Moving one leg up over his bulging arm, he entered her again, but his time; he made her look at him.  Grabbing her by her face, he studied her eyes. 

Pure exasperation showed on her face with each relenting pump.

“A green field in the sun?” he asked, eyes narrowed, suspiciously. 

“Yes,” she said, body jerking as he took her.

“Me?” he asked, pushing harder.

The air left her lungs. “Yes,” she said, closing her eyes. 

“Bullshit,” Ivan said, finishing inside of her.

***

Nearly complete with his rigorous 10-mile run, Dmitry headed around the swimming pond on the trail beside his castle with a clearer head.  He had used the therapeutic session to sort through the most pressing of his short-term obligations and worked through a few of his more long-standing problems enough to tolerate them for the time being.

              Plus, like everything in his life, he was always interested in pushing himself to the next level.  Running 10-miles was a mix of endurance and speed that he both enjoyed and embraced, mostly because it was a game of discipline. It was commodity that he needed now more than ever and secondly, because if he ever needed to chase someone, he wanted to catch them.

              Flickers of sunlight bounced off the ripples in the water as a red-eyed Common Pochard made his way across the circumference of the large pond and a wood pigeon bellowed out from a perch in the trees to welcome a bright sunny morning, freshly hatched from the quiet dawn. 

              Determined to finish as powerfully as he started his run, Dmitry pushed his long legs to move faster even though they had begun to feel like jelly after negotiating the hilly terrain.  With his shirt off, sweaty, muddy and sticky, he calculated in his head the time he needed to beat.

              His time the day before was 65 minutes exactly.

              Even if he made it in 64 minutes today, it would be an improvement.

              As he made his way around the pond toward the clearing, he saw a black Mercedes Benz pulling up the driveway.  It slowed when it arrived at the door. 

              Had he forgotten a meeting? 

              His mind raced, but he could not remember agreeing to meet anyone at his home.  Khalid was still grieving, and Ivan was being escorted in a Land Rover.  So, the question was who was calling on him?

              Putting the last juice he had into a near sprint, he picked up the pace, keeping his eyes on the driver as he stepped out and walked around the large sedan to open back passenger door. 

              A redhead emerged from the back of the vehicle in a navy blue A-line dress and heels.  Pulling off her shades, she looked up at the house and appraised with a certain familiarity that led him to believe it could only be one person.

              His stepdaughter.

              Emma Hutton.

Chapter 2

It had been years since Dmitry had laid eyes on or talked with his step-daughter, a woman older than he was, and at one point was interested in bedding him. He still remembered their first meeting and the way that the moonlight hit her porcelain-like face as they made arrangements for the Free Right, a small group of radicals fighting for women’s rights across the world.

Emma had always been a force to reckon with, and he had admired that about her. 

And although he’d never admit it to anyone, Dmitry couldn’t deny that he had wanted her then, before he had met her mother, but he was a young, ambitious man on a mission.  His only recourse, even after her offer, had to be to turn her down cold. 

The simple truth of the matter was that Catherine held in her power, his future, a way for him to take care of the people who were depending on him. There was no way that he could look past that for sheer attraction. 

Shortly after his refusal, Ivan had gotten her pregnant during a revenge screw that she initiated, and ultimately she had moved to New York.

Understandably, she had written him and Catherine off after the announcement of their wedding.  And once Catherine had passed and Emma’s brother was killed, the ties were completely severed with the exception of a small little boy who should have been about three years of age now.

With so much space in time between them, there was little reason that he could find for her to be here now, but he was naturally curious.  A part of him immediately pondered the possibility of her being sent here by one of his enemies, but a part of him hoped that she was coming to reconnect with him in some more personal way. 

As he walked into the house, wiping his chest off with his balled up shirt, Emma stood in the foyer under a painting of her great, great grandfather waiting for him. Flawless still in her poise and beauty, Dmitry instantly remembered why he had been so attracted to her. 

She turned gracefully in her designer low-cut dress, milking white breasts pushed up and inviting and adorned with a single strand of pearls.  She looked up at him with a piercing gaze.  Her jade green eyes flashed with approval and possibly something more provocative.  Her lips were painted fire red, drawing his attention to her perfectly white teeth and sultry smile.

She was a real lady among other wanna-be royalty, but she still knew how to be gritty when it called for it. 

Without detection of his thoughts, he paused briefly and smiled.  “Emma,” he said softly. “Isn’t this a surprise?”  

“Dmitry Medlov,” she said, tilting her head a bit.  “Or should I say
Dad?
”  The diamonds in her ears caught the light coming in from the windows behind Dmitry and flashed a radiant blue. 

Dmitry laughed. “How about just plain old
Daddy
?”

Her eyes narrowed. 
Tempting.

The butler quickly entered the room, bringing a shirt for Dmitry and a bottle of water.  Dmitry took both with a nod and pulled the white cotton t-shirt over his head.  “Forgive my appearance. I’ve been running,” he grunted. 

“Keeping in shape, I see,” she said, unable to take her eyes off his bulging muscles.  How delicious he looked all virile and wild.  There was something absolutely wicked about the man, and she hated herself for the primal response that he caused in her.  Quickly changing the subject, she spun around on her heels.  “You’ve kept the place up very well. I’m pleased.” 
She was not.
  All of this should have been hers, but she kept those thoughts to herself.

Dmitry could sense the double-edge sword in the comment and chose to avoid it. “I do what I can,” he said, motioning toward the left hall. “Would you like something to drink?  We can talk in the solarium.”

“Such a gentleman,” she quipped.  “Yes, I’d like some tea.”

“Stepan,” Dmitry said, kicking off his dirty shoes beside the door, “bring the lady some tea.  We’ll be in the solarium.” 

“Yes, sir,” Stepan said, turning quickly and heading toward the kitchen.

Dmitry could see her eyes.  She wanted something.  He guessed it would be a rather large favor.  So, he set the stage.  “Would you like to lead the way?” he asked. 

“I’d be happy to,” she said as he escorted her down the left corridor.

She walked in front of him, leading them both down the familiar hallway that she had played in for many years of her childhood, while he followed behind her, trying not to watch the sway in her wide hips or the way that her calves tightened with each stride.

It had been a while for Dmitry, since he had last be with a woman, despite his many offers, and now being with her, he was reminded of the lapse.

They entered into the airy solarium, illuminated by the natural sunlight beaming in from all the windows, and sat down in the antique chairs that looked out toward the grounds.

Letting out a great heave of exhaustion, Dmitry winked at her.  “I’m dying to know what brings you back to England,” he said, unscrewing the bottle of water.

Turning up a shoulder, she joked. “Can’t a girl visit family?” Before she could finish her joke, she glanced accidentally to his lap.  In his jogging pants, she swore that she could see the outline of his manhood. 

Dmitry raised a brow, when he caught her glance. 

“
Like
family,” he corrected.

“Alright,” she said, giving up on that angle.  Crossing her legs, she huffed and ran her manicured nails over the wooden arm of the chair. “I need a favor Dmitry.”  Her voice dipped.  “And it’s the sort that you ask in person. That’s why I’m here.”

“Alright,” Dmitry said, throwing his arm lazily over the chair.  “Ask me.”

As he did so, the tattoos carved into his delicate bronze skin caught her attention.  She glanced at them and quickly looked away. 
Shit,
she might have had a better chance of getting the favor if she had make a phone call, being in close proximity to him was obviously going to be a problem.

“My work with the Free Right has moved to Central America.  And we are having problems there with the locals.  I’m nearly out of money, and I have made promises that should not be broken.”

Dmitry took a swig of his water and placed his bottle on the table.  “Where in Central America?”

“Bogotá.” she said flatly.  “I need guns and more than that, I need a mediator and someone with enough muscle and power to make them see that it is more beneficial to leave my group alone and allow us to do our work than to harass us and threaten us with rape and murder.”

Dmitry cringed at the idea inside but kept a stoic exterior. “So, where does my favor come in?”

She sat up erect in the chair and moved closer to him. “I need guns from you, and if you have any influence, I need you to exert it.  The local police department is volatile. The bribes keep going up, and it’s getting harder to operate.  If they were to know the relationships that I have here and with whom, then maybe that would thwart some of the unnecessary problems we are having.”

Dmitry sucked in a deep breath of dissent. He hated to be the bearer of bad news but…“Guns I can
always
do, but influence is something of a different animal.  I don’t have any relationships there.”  He bit his lip in contemplation. “I’d like to obviously, but the men with power there have their own distribution circles, and they don’t recruit very often.”

She had been in enough negotiations with men to understand that she’d have to bargain with him to get what she needed. “I could introduce you to some people. If you were to give me just a few days there, I could vet some serious buyers for your guns and even anything else you might have.”

Dmitry sat back in his chair. “Anything else?” He did have a booming rare gems trafficking business that was finally starting to get some traction along with pharmaceuticals. 

“There is a market for just about everything there,” Emma said in a salesman’s voice.  “Money is flowing like manna from heaven in certain circles, no doubt because of the drug trade.”

Drugs were a nasty business that Dmitry didn’t care for.  He preferred legal products that could be sold illegally for a cheaper rate.  There was less attention on that by law enforcement, allowing him to make more money without the stress.

“So you want me to go to Bogotá?” he asked, weighing his options. The trust factor immediately came to the forefront of his mind again.  Columbia wasn’t far from Angola.  It was just a quick flight from Africa to the South American coast.   

“Yes,” she said without hesitation.

“When?” he asked suspiciously.

She smirked. “Sooner than later, but I’ll be patient.”

Dmitry needed time.  “Give me a few days to think about it.  While you are here, we can talk more and see what kind of synergy we can create.”  He stood up.  “For now, I have a press conference to get ready for.”

“What’s being announced,” she asked, standing up as well. 

“Hutton Industries is filing for bankruptcy.”

Emma looked confused. “But things were going so well…”

Dmitry knew that the news would not be easy for Emma to take, regardless of how she had felt about her mother.  “No, things were not going well.  It was just a matter of time before we arrived at this point.  I did what I could in the first year after your mother passed to consolidate some of the less profitable businesses, but the vultures on her board were less than compassionate.  They had already sucked her bone dry and with the business that happened in Italy, it was my only option.  We are going to restructure in order to survive.” 

“I’m sorry to hear,” she said, in a solemn voice.

“No worries,” Dmitry said, touching her shoulder.  “Where are you planning to stay while you are here?”

“I have a place downtown.  I was going to stay there.”

“Nonsense,” Dmitry said with a smile. “You’ll stay here with me, under my protection until it’s time for you to leave the city.  I’ll have your old room made ready.  Later tonight, after I get all of this nasty business over, we can talk and catch up.  I’d like to hear more about my nephew.”  He winked at her.  “Or would he technically be my step-grandson.”

Tucking her clutch purse under her arm, she wiggled her pointy nose at him. “I don’t know why but I think you get a kick out of how seriously fucked up our family is.”

“Oh, you know why,” he said, acknowledging for the first time their sexual tension.

Nostalgia kicked in for Emma.  “Can I at least attend the news conference with you?” she asked.

“I’d be honored,” he said approvingly.  “Why don’t you have breakfast with me? And after I shower and dress, we can get on with it.”

“I’d like that.”  Gratefully, she rubbed his arm.  “Thank you.