Dmitry knew that he needed to find Ivan a good doctor, someone who could diagnose his evil. And hopefully, he could find someone to help. He’d be willing to walk away from everything if he could just get his brother some help. Only, he couldn’t tell Ivan that. He would think him too soft.
Knowing that Dmitry was looking at him, Ivan’s gaze moved from the fireplace to his brother as he put his glass down on the table. Exhaling, Ivan smacked his lips and rolled his eyes. “Why are you looking at me like I’ve done something else wrong?” Ivan asked in a deep, growl of a baritone.
“Because even though I don’t know about it, you probably have done something else wrong,” Dmitry answered shortly.
Ivan didn’t blink. “You’ve grown soft. I can tell. Too much gentlemen’s training and not enough hunting…or pussy for that matter.”
“You really think so?” Dmitry asked, titling his head. “And what would you suggest I hunt?”
“Your prey…everything beneath you.”
“We are gutter rats. There is nothing beneath us,” Dmitry answered, running his hand over the desk. “Don’t let the clothes, money and power fool you, brat. We weren’t born into this, and if it weren’t for my ability to fuck like a wild savage animal, we still would be pulling jobs out of a park at crack of dawn and wondering where our next meal was going to come from.” Dmitry looked up from his desk and raised his thick, dirty blonde brow.
Ivan countered. “We would have arrived at this point one way or another.”
“I doubt it,” Dmitry said, dismissing his brother. “That’s what worries me about you. You pretend to be so wise, and yet you say the dumbest things.”
“Fuck off,” Ivan said, turning back to the fire. “I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked of me. I don’t owe you shit. So what, you were able to get all of this stuff from that old bitch…if you hadn’t done it, I would have got it through her daughter.”
“Emma was using you,” Dmitry said in a matter-of-fact tone. “She wanted me, but she had to settle for second best, if you can call yourself that.”
“And that old whore you married would have settled for my back, if she couldn’t have gotten yours. What’s the difference? They were both pawns in our sick, twisted game. And I know the question lurking behind those unshaven, thick ass eyebrows is when would I start really caring about either one of them? Well, that’s where we differ, brat. I would have done the same as you did, but I wouldn’t have cared a bit. That is going to be your downfall. You have to stop inserting your emotions. At the end of the day, emotions are worth shit. They are worth less than shit.”
Dmitry hated to admit how his brother’s reference to his wife angered him. He tried hard to hide it behind his cool exterior. “The difference is that she would have never gone for you. I’ve seen you screw and it’s unimpressive, Ivan. And as far as Catherine and her preference, I think her decision speaks louder than the words spoken by a man who lives and breathes by my generosity.”
“Well, by all means, please continue to be generous, brat,” Ivan said facetiously.
Davyd never interrupted the boys when they feuded but made an exception this time. Clearing his throat, he sat up in his chair. “The men who are coming here tonight will look for weakness within our little amateur organization. It is important that we not only appear cohesive but that we are. I trust you both can understand that.”
The men did not speak but it was apparent that they understood.
Biting his lip, Ivan looked back at the fire as he felt for his gun hidden under his suit jacket. How he wanted to kill someone right now.
The butler interrupted the group with a tap on the door. He stepped inside, bowing towards his lordship and announced the arrival of Dmitry’s guests.
Dmitry nodded and excused the butler. “You two go out and stay with his men,” he said to the bodyguards in the corners, who stood quietly listening to their bosses squabble. “Ivan, do me a favor, and don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.”
Ivan didn’t respond.
The door opened with the butler re-entering and extending his arm to the three people who followed him. A bodyguard, short in stature, came in and made his way to the corner midway between Dmitry and Ivan. The notorious Vladimir Sidorov, son of the feared and powerful Khalid Sidorov, entered right behind him mirroring Dmitry in a black, tailor suit and then right behind him, walking nearly in cadence and most unexpectedly, a young black woman in a navy blue dress followed.
Davyd made sure that Vladimir and the woman were comfortably seated across the desk from Dmitry, while Ivan sat watching them all curiously. The woman had drawn his attention from the fire, but it was Vladimir who truly perplexed him. Ivan had never seen a man more sure of himself. A sense of absolute entitlement resonated deep within the young man, something that Ivan found incredibly enticing. He wanted to be like that – in that instant, he knew it.
Dmitry sat watching the two as well; only his eyes kept finding themselves landing on the coffee-colored muse in front of him. Who was she? He felt as though he would pay a king’s ransom just to hear her voice.
Aware of the attention that she was causing, Vladimir looked over at her and nodded. “She does have that effect on men,” he said, answering their thoughts. “Why don’t you introduce yourself, love? Don’t be shy.”
The woman crossed her legs and nodded. “My name is Elsa.” Her voice was rich and sexy, easing off her lips like silk. In a second she had captured every man in the room.
“She is here as gift from my father,” Vladimir said, taking his eyes off the woman. He looked back at Dmitry proudly.
“A gift?” Dmitry asked intrigued. He sat up in his chair.
“You have acquired a great deal of wealth, Mr. Medlov. Am I to understand that you have someone who understands how to manage it?” Vladimir asked.
“No, we don’t. And please call me Dmitry,” he answered humbly. “We do not even understand the full scope of my estate yet.”
“We thought as much,” Vladimir answered with a smirk. “And are you still committed to the brotherhood?” He crossed his fingers together and rested his elbows on the arms of the leather chair.
“Of course,” Dmitry said, finally taking his eyes off of Elsa. “This is why I have reached out to you. I want to use some of the money from my late wife’s estate to strengthen my core businesses with the Vory, but I don’t want low-level contacts. I want the best.”
“You finally have the power to create a vertically integrated organization, and my father and his men understand that. We are willing to assist you in whatever you may need. Elsa will assist you with making sure that your wishes are carried out. She is a senior at Oxford with high marks, fluent in six languages, familiar with countless cultures and one of the best business minds in the western hemisphere. She is also untraceable to the Vory v Zakone or any other group,” Vladimir explained.
“I am happy to have her,” Dmitry said, giving her one last glance. “Now, in return for your gift, what would you like of me?” he asked, turning his attention to Vladimir.
“My father would like an opportunity to speak with you about purchasing a small glass factory that you own on the outskirts of Moscow, and he would also like a seat on your board in the next three years.” Vladimir waited on Dmitry’s answer, but it did not come quickly.
Standing up, Dmitry went over to one of the bookshelves and pulled out a small, leather bound ledger book. Opening it, he licked his fingers and flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. “And how much is your father offering for this very lucrative glass factory that has been in my wife’s family for over forty years?” he asked with his back to his guests.
“We will send over a proposal tomorrow with numbers we feel are appropriate,” Vladimir said, sucking his teeth. He had underestimated Dmitry. Word was the young brut had absolutely no couth or understanding of his current situation. Evidently, the information given was wrong. Dmitry seemed extremely sure of himself, capabl
e of handling business and formidable.
“I won’t take a penny under eight,” Dmitry answered, putting the book away.
“We wouldn’t dream of offering a penny under eight,” Vladimir said, standing. “Well, I’ll leave your gift for you to make yourself more familiar. I apologize for my abruptness, but I do have other plans for the evening. I’m sure you both have a great deal to talk about.”
“Leave her here?” Dmitry asked, looking at Elsa.
“As I said, she is your gift. I expect her to be in class tomorrow as usual. She’ll need a car and a driver, a nice room, a hefty salary and a title. She is a respectable woman and her safety and well-being are expected to stay at the top of your priority list.” Vladimir looked over at Ivan. “And she is expected to be kept as far away from your men as possible. Word has traveled around the globe and back again of your baby brother’s sordid and tasteless extracurricular activities. And while I don’t mind, my father does. His wishes are my own.”
“I’ll see to it,” Dmitry said, looking at Ivan also.
“Don’t worry. She’s not my type,” Ivan bit out with a sinister grin. “She’s far too clean of a woman.”
Elsa rolled her eyes and turned her back to Ivan, having already been informed of his cavalier attitude towards women.
“We’ll touch base in a week. After Elsa has laid the foundation that you so desperately need then I’ll arrange a meeting with my father,” Vladimir said concluding their brief appointment. His bodyguard followed.
“It will be most appreciated,” Dmitry said, walking behind Vladimir and his bodyguard.
Vladimir turned as he got to the door and smiled. “Congratulations, brat, on your arrival.”
“Spasiba,” Dmitry said nodding.
Chapter Four
The butler moved Elsa’s Louis Vuitton luggage up to a guest bedroom while she and Dmitry spoke privately in his study, and Ivan and Davyd went to prepare for the next meeting, which would take place in less than thirty minutes.
Dmitry couldn’t wait to have a moment alone with the woman. He found her to be complex, alluring and extremely sexy. What caught him most off guard was her height. Her legs seemed to soar on and on up into the heavens. And while she was as breathtaking as any supermodel that he’d met, she was definitely more intelligent. Her poise in a new environment was commendable. Never once did she seem nervous or unsure of herself. He liked that she knew how to control a room and was certain that it would be helpful in the near future.
However, he could also not help but wonder what she must look like against a bed, naked and in ecstasy. It was a thought that he instantly tried to repress, only being newly widowed. In the past, it was the only way that he could remain faithful.
He had to always control his thoughts when Catherine was alive, repress his imagination and desire for the feel of a youthful woman, and most importantly, never allow one opportunity for an impropriety. Such was his day-to-day life, even living at the manor. It seemed that every maid under forty was after him. Plus, Ivan never made it any easier coming around with a new woman on every visit.
Now, he was bound to nothing – no woman. The freedom hummed in his ears like a song written by angels.
Legs crossed, back straight and eyes focused on her new boss, Elsa answered each question thoroughly as though on an interview, but Dmitry knew women. He could see the curiosity hanging in the back of her dark brown eyes. It was that curiosity that he was anxious to discover, not the things that she could recite back to him.
“So where are you from, Elsa?” Dmitry asked, pouring her a glass of wine in the back of the study.
“Luanda, Angola,” Elsa answered as he walked up to her with the glass. She looked up at him with a delicate smile. “Thank you,” she said nodding. Her long, manicured hands took the glass from his hand.
“You’re welcome,” Dmitry said, looking away. Her perfume was intoxicating. “I’m from Moscow originally, although I’m sure you already know all of that. In fact, I’m sure that you know almost everything about me, considering your source.” He sat back down behind the desk and watched her delicate lips meet the crystal flute. Weaving his fingers together, he sat back in the chair and hid in the shadows of the dimly lit room, where he could watch her every move better.
She sipped the wine slowly as she thought about something very hard and then swallowed. “There is much about a man that cannot be adequately noted on paper,” she responded.
When she looked over at him, the whites of her eyes drew Dmitry further into the depths of her. His silence only made his desire even more pronounced. He finally spoke. “Has Vladimir’s father ever seen you drink wine?” Dmitry asked, running his hands over the wooden table.
“Yes,” Elsa answered, confused.
“Well, now I know why he wants to buy my glass factory. I’ve never appreciated that wine glass until this very moment.”
Elsa blushed. It would have been such a cheesy statement if she hadn’t seen his eyes. From his mouth, the compliment made her melt. “He wants to buy your glass factory because of its proximity to one of the Russian armories,” she answered, setting her glass down. “And I wouldn’t sell it for less than 13, if I were going to sell it, Mr. Medlov.”
Dmitry smiled. His voice was soft and knowing. “I am well aware that it’s worth more than eight, but then Khalid will owe me more favors. If I sell it to him at market value, then there is nothing left on the table.”
“Are you sure that you didn’t go to Oxford,” she asked intrigued. “You seem incredibly knowledgeable in comparison to the reports on you.”
“It’s all a front. Everything that you’ve heard or read about me is probably true,” Dmitry joked. “So, is your family back in Angola?”
“Yes.” She smiled.
“Was the scholarship a favor from Khalid?”
“No. I am not on scholarship, Mr. Medlov.”
“Sorry to assume. Well, how did you come to know one of the most powerful Russian mafia bosses in the world?”
“My father knows a lot of powerful men because of his profession.”
“And what is his profession?”
“He is a leader,” she said with a smirk.
“Of a company?” He narrowed his brow.
“Of a country,” she said, taking another sip of her wine. “The MPLA to be exact.”
“Well that…,” he chuckled. “That says it all, doesn’t it?”
Dmitry was well aware of the MPLA. The People's Movement for the Liberation of Angola - Labour Party or in Portuguese the Movimento Popular de Libertação de Angola - Partido do Trabalho was an Angolan political party that had ruled the country since Angola's independence in 1975 and had fought against the Portuguese army in the war for nearly fifteen years against UNITA and FNLA in the civil war from 1975 to the present. If her father was who Dmitry thought he was then Elsa was the most important person in the room, not any of them.
Elsa couldn’t help but laugh as well. For a man with so much to lose, he didn’t seem to take himself too seriously. He was dramatically different from his counter parts, especially from Vladimir, who seemed to have been born with an air of superiority.
Looking at his presidential Rolex, Dmitry stood up and made his way around the desk to her. “Why don’t I show you up to your room before my next meeting, eh?”
“Shouldn’t I be here to assist you for your next meeting?” she asked, ready to get to work.
Dmitry nodded with a grin. His eyes sparkled at her. His full mouth curved as he bit his rose-colored lips. “No, I can handle this next one alone. Don’t worry. I’ll come calling for you soon enough.”
Offering his hand, he helped her up from her chair and escorted her down the quiet, dimly lit corridor, past all the family photos that meant nothing to him, through the main halls with all of the priceless busts and finally up to her room. It had been Catherine’s private bedroom, where she went to have complete and utter privacy. He felt that considering how important she woul
d be to him in the near future, the least that he could do was make sure she had the best accommodations possible.
“Your castle is very impressive,” she said, standing at her doorway. She looked up at him and tried to follow his changing facial expressions.
“Thank you,” Dmitry answered softly. His deep voice still carried down the hall even as he tried to whisper.
“Why do you look at me the way that you do?” she asked.
Dmitry laughed a little and sucked his teeth. “I’m not used to being around a woman quite so tall. It fascinates me.”
Elsa laughed. “It’s ironic, don’t you think, coming from a man who is seven feet tall?”
“Seven feet, one inch,” he corrected. “How tall are you?”
The Chronicles of Young Dmitry Medlov: Book One Page 14
