Those were the good times, Royal thought to herself. She might have been poor back then, but she was still proud. Oddly enough, even though Valeriya was from another country, whenever she was around her, she reminisced about yesteryears when Mary Jay Blige blasting on the radio in the dorms, BET was on a continuous loop on the television and all a girl had to really focus on was keeping her GPA on point.
Carefully walking over to the bassinet in the opposite corner from her son’s, Valeriya laid the baby down and tucked her aching breast back inside her low-cut blouse. Shit, she didn’t even remember that it was out when she went to the door, but she knew Royal would forgive her for the unintentional blunder.
“Let’s go in here,” Valeriya said, pointing to the door that led to the media room of their large suite. They would be allowed to speak freely without waking up the babies, and she could finally order something up from the kitchen to eat.
As soon as the door was closed and Valeriya turned on the baby monitors to hear the twins, Royal went to the bar in the corner and poured herself a drink. “Am I ungrateful?” she asked, eyes locked on the tumbler in her hand.
Valeriya sat down on the sofa in the corner under a portrait of Gabriel’s mother and tucked her feet under her. “I’ve never known you to be,” she answered truthfully.
Royal huffed and put the glass to her lips. The taste of Tennessee whiskey would normally have made her gag considering its long history, but tonight, she didn’t give a shit. Social justice be damned. She needed something to take the edge off, and Jack Daniels knew just how to oblige. The smooth spirit slipped down her throat, easing her disposition just enough to explain herself.
“Dmitry has always been good to me. Even though he doesn’t always tell me everything, he’s definitely not a liar. And he’s barely aged since the day I met him.” She shrugged at her statement as her gaze locked absently on the line of bottle on the bar. “Seriously, ten years and he’s barely changed.”
Valeriya knew that this was supposed to go somewhere, but she wasn’t sure of the destination. “So, you’re ungrateful because he’s handsome?”
“No,” Royal whirled around. Her long thick ponytail shifted over her shoulder. She took another sip. “I’m ungrateful because even though he gives me everything, I still feel at times like I have to compete with him.” She knew it sounded foolish, but there it was… the truth laid bare.
“In what way do you compete?”
“Over Anya,” Royal blurted. “I want to win her over. I want her to look at me the way that she looks at him.”
Valeriya nodded but gave a knowing smile. “That will never happen.”
Royal was expecting something else. She frowned, brows furrowing as her face contorted into a grimace. Her back was suddenly erect. “Why?”
“Because they wouldn’t call them daddy’s girls if they were not truly so.” Valeriya eyed Royal’s glass in envy. While she’d miss the bonding time with the twins, she would be happy to have a night cap again. “I was the same way about my father. In my little life, the world revolved around him, right up until the day that he was killed.”
Royal waved a hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to bring up anything that will have you emotional for the rest of the night.”
Valeriya cut her off. “Nonsense. I’ve recovered from my father’s death. And I’m more than happy to explain how it works.” She had a thought, one that she hoped Royal would take the right way. “It’s because you didn’t have a father growing up that you cannot understand her right now. But trust me, Anya adores you. She just gravitates to her father more because you are the disciplinarian and he is the knight in shining armor. Later, when she’s older and dating, the roles will change.”
Royal had never thought about how her own experience as an orphan and finally as late-adopted teen might have jaded her view about Anya’s relationship with Dmitry.
She leaned against the bar and dropped her head. “God knows I never had a daddy like Dmitry.”
“Who did?” Valeriya joked. She pulled the throw blanket over her legs and yawned. “Royal, you are a wonderful mother. You are a wonderful wife. Maybe you’re being too hard on yourself.”
“Tonight, Anya asked me to set up a meet and greet with the Duchess of Sussex,” Royal said, walking over to the sofa to sit beside Valeriya.
“Who?” The name didn’t ring a bell for Valeriya.
“Megan Markle.”
“Oh.” That name was very familiar. She was on everyone’s lips these days.
“Yeah. And even though I told Anya that I wouldn’t promise anything, I knew that I was going to work every angle I could to set up a meeting so that my baby girl would think that I was the bomb for once instead of Dmitry.” She knew she sounded like a child who was being forced to share her favorite toy, but at least with Valeriya if she was going to be admonished, she knew it was coming from the heart.
The air conditioner kicked on and blew hard out of the vent above them. Valeriya threw the throw over Royal’s legs as her friend slunk up beside her. “But I’m guessing that’s not the way it turned out.”
“Exactly. Dmitry waltzes in being king Ding-a-ling, interrupts the conversation. Within five minutes, he promised Anya that he could set up a chance to meet the new princess by the end of the damned year. Oh, and I forgot,” she drank a hefty portion of her whiskey, leaving residue on the sides of her mouth. “We’re going to the chateau that he and his first co-habituated in for over a year before she kicked the bucket.” Royal rolled her eyes and wiped the side of her hand over her mouth.
There was so much Valeriya could say about that last statement until she went into mental overload. Deciding against speaking about any of it, she moved past the old/dead wife and focused on the situation at hand. “So, he stole your thunder,” Valeriya sympathized, putting her hand on Royal’s back.
“Yes. He always does,” Royal said, slouching – something she always got on to Anya about when she was pouting. “She is my only daughter. I want a special relationship with her.”
“You already have one,” Valeriya assured. Everyone knew how crazy Royal was about that little girl. “But even still, I don’t see enough in that story for you to come running to my room in the middle of the evening. What else is going on?”
“I’ll give it to you. You are perceptive,” Royal admitted. She took a deep breath and wrenched her hands. There was no way she was going to tell her that there was something wrong with Dmitry. That was too premature. She had to do some digging on that herself before she jumped to conclusions. Staring at her gigantic diamond wedding ring, she finally confessed something else that was weighing on her. “I want another baby. The first three were all just in the heat of the moment, but I want one that I requested. You know, an on-demand baby.”
Valeriya laughed. “And what makes you think he won’t give you one…” She raised a hand. “Wait. Why do you want this baby? Is it just a fleeting idea or is it something that is like…deep in your soul?”
“It woke me up last night. I obsess over it. I know for a fact that I only want one more, and I want this one to be my choosing, my time, my request. Anya was born right after we were married and after one of the most tragic events in my life. The twins were conceived under a tree by the lake in Prague while it was raining after Dmitry threatened to kill my former nanny.”
Valeriya raised a brow. That sounded kinky.
“I want this one just because I said so.” Royal looked back her friend and smiled. “I know it sounds crazy.”
Valeriya had heard crazier, especially being a part of this family. “No, it doesn’t. I want another one, eventually. This time planned. Medlov men seem to be geniuses at planning everything but their children. It would be nice for us to change the precedent.”
Royal laughed in agreement. “I know that’s right.” She bit down on her lip and waited for her friend to give her advice. “So, what do you think I should do?”
“Let Anya love her father and you in her
own way. You’ll appreciate it later. She’ll be stronger because of him.” Valeriya laid an arm over the armrest. “And as far as the baby. Ask him. Dmitry has always given you exactly what you want, just as you said. I doubt things will be different with this.”
“I hope you’re right.” She leaned over on Valeriya’s shoulder. “Thank you for being my friend.”
“Same here.” Valeriya kissed the top of Royal’s head. Since they had become family and even before, Royal had always been there for her when she needed someone to talk to. It felt good to return the favor.
Finally feeling better about getting those things off her chest, Royal’s mind cleared. “Oh, by the way, the boys are headed back home. Dmitry’s having a late-evening meal for the entire family.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“Anil’s mother is dying.” Royal could feel the tears welding up in the corner of her eyes, but she ignored them. “He wants to do something to make him feel better before we put her to rest tomorrow.”
Valeriya was taken aback. “Tomorrow?” Sanaa’s situation must have escalated dramatically since last week.
“Doctor doesn’t think she’ll make it much longer.” Royal bit down on her lip.
Valeriya knew Royal cared deeply for Anil’s mother. At least once a week since they had brought her here from Miami for cancer treatment and hospice care, Royal went to the facility to check on her and bring flowers to the room. It was odd that suddenly the poor woman had become an afterthought. She nudged Royal’s shoulder. “And you didn’t think to start the conversation with that?”
Royal answered honestly. What could she say? She was losing it. “When I got up here, I guess I just vomited. Whatever was near the surface just came up first.”
There was a long silence as the two of them sat there thinking. So much death in this family. So many bad things. Sometimes, it was hard to process.
Changing the mood that had somehow become incredibly depressing, Valeriya pushed a breath out of her mouth. “I change my mind. You are selfish,” Valeriya joked.
Royal laughed, feeling much better than when she first arrived at Valeriya’s door. “Yeah, I know.
Chapter Seven
Two Hours Later
Medlov Estate
Memphis, TN
W hen the giant iron gates of the Medlov Memphis estate creaked opened, Anatoly Medlov’s convoy of armored SUVs proceeded quickly down the winding driveway, bringing the prince of the Russian underworld to the front of the white plantation-styled mansion that he and his entire family called home.
Ahh…it was good to be back, despite what had brought him here so abruptly. Glancing out of the tinted windows of the black-on-black Land Rover, he spotted an unusual sight.
His cousin, Gabriel Medlov, was sitting on the concrete steps that led up to the mansion’s porch in a tailored, black suit pants and a crisp, white button down, talking to Vasily Kavlov, the other member of their tight-knit council.
It seemed he was the last to arrive, which normally meant he would be the last to know what was going on. The family, not the council, had a strange way of communicating with each other about a crisis, which normally consisted of word-of-mouth from one woman to another until the entire house, including the staff, knew everyone’s business.
Based upon how chummy Vasily and Gabriel were as they spoke now, it appeared the women had struck again.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said aloud as he grabbed the shiny handle of his back-seat door before his guard could jump out and do it for him. Damn, he hated being waited on hand and foot. As a perfectly capable 29-year-old man, it felt ridiculous to have guards trying to do everything for him. Just opening the door for himself felt liberating, but he didn’t bitch aloud or even direct them to back off because everyone needed to make a living.
Anatoly stepped out in his normal “work” uniform of dark denim jeans, brown leather boots and simple black T-shirt. Since coming back from Miami, where he was forced to wear three-piece suits and color his hair, he had happily grown out a blonde buzz cut, a matching, lengthy blonde beard and shed all clothing that could not be washed and worn straight out of the dryer. After all, what was the point of being rich, if he couldn’t dress as he pleased.
“Well, look who finally showed up late to the party,” Gabriel quipped. “I guess we can officially start the evening now that his Highness has graced us with his annoying presence.” His voice boomed in the quietness of the evening, wreaking of his New York City accent and his arrogant, aristocratic air.
Even in the dark cover of night, Gabriel Medlov was a striking man. Over the years, his allure had become known across many countries as he closed deals on behalf of the Medlov Crime Family. He was the suave young Medlov equipped with an exhaustive vocabulary, who always came with concrete numbers bound in blood, guile and style that could court even the most dangerous or clever arms buyer. Women swooned. Men hated him but wanted to be him. But no matter what, he always got the job done.
His ink black hair cut perfectly to show thick, winged brows inherited by his psychopathic late father, intense mossy green eyes that broke women with his first glance, unnaturally long eyelashes and a chiseled, menacing face that made the new father and husband appear to be elegant and regal, were all a ruse designed to make feel people feel comfortable around him.
However, if one looked closer at the angelic creature, they would see a cut-throat business man and consummate killer, who valued very little outside of the Medlov name. The thick, intricate muscles bulging under his white shirt, veiny and tanned, were more a testament to his lion-like grace than his elegance. Mafia tattoos earned through trial by fire hid under his stylish uniform only threatening to show themselves when his work became messy. He was a cruel man, made so by the world around him. He was a hard man, made so by his experiences. But he loved his family – Anatoly Medlov especially. They were brothers instead of cousins, sharing in the glory and the pain of their assigned station by the great and powerful Dmitry Medlov.
The corners of his mouth curled up suddenly. “What the fuck,” Anatoly growled, pushing a breath out of his mouth. He sat down beside Gabriel, who was cleaning the dirt out of his manicured nails with the tip of a long, serrated blade, and threw off the leather satchel he had worn across his chest.
The clink of the custom-made Glock in his bag made a distinct sound as it hit the concrete and fell clumsily over his foot. “It took me weeks to set up that meeting, and then at the very end…this shit.” He pursed his lush lips together and grimaced. He truly hated surprises. In their line of work, everything either went as planned or ended up going to hell. And he had learned that through the very man who was currently throwing a fucking wrench in his job.
Casually, Gabriel closed his knife and slipped it back in his pants pocket. “Yeah, same thing I said. I was in the middle of closing a deal with the Benelli brothers when I got the text from the old man.” He wouldn’t say so, but very much like the Medlov women, he couldn’t wait to gossip. With such a close circle of people who had to double as business partners and family, there was no one else to converse with about his day.
Anatoly glanced across the manicured lawn and extended his thick arms over his knees. “I was with Alverez. You know how cheap that bastard is. I damn near had to shoot him to get the numbers papa wanted.”
“Did you close?” Gabriel asked, rubbing the lid his left eye with the tip of his finger. He remembered a time when he would have just been getting started for the evening, but with the new babies, he was always spent.
“Barely,” Anatoly answered, yawning as he stretched his legs. It had been a hectic trek back to Memphis from New Orleans, but the urgency and directness of his father’s text had pushed him to make haste. “Either one of you find out what’s going on with him?” He looked in between Gabriel and Vasily. He knew it had to be something really bad. Dmitry didn’t ever leave money on the table.
“Anil’s mother is on her last leg,” Gabriel explain
ed sympathetically. “The doctor doesn’t expect her to make it through the next few days. I think he wanted us home to be with him.”
“Damn.” Anatoly dropped his head – sorry for his complaints. It was worse than he thought. The edge on his voice dissipated as he focused on the scuffs of his boots. “Anil said she was doing better.”
While Anil was his half-brother, he still couldn’t make himself go up to the hospice center to see her. It brought up too many bad memories of his own loss. It had been years since he’d gone to his mother’s funeral, but he still could smell the perfume they had sprayed on her body for the viewing. If he thought about it now, his stomach still knotted.
“We all thought the same,” Vasily said, rolling up the sleeves to his dress shirt. Still not used to the harsh late spring weather of Memphis after years of being here, he could feel his body perspiring under his clothes. “Lily and I went up there three days ago, and she looked like she was just resting.” But what did he know. He wasn’t a doctor. Neither was Lilly.
“That’s the way it always seems to happen.” Gabriel thought of his mother, Emma, at the end of her cancer struggle. One day, she appeared to be getting better and the next, she was gone. There was no warning, just a glimmer of hope before it was snatched away from him. A devastating reality rushed over him. “I hate cancer. All the money and resources being pumped into finding a cure and still no one can find one.”
“I don’t believe that,” Anatoly said quickly. “Someone knows something. It’s just too profitable to give a cure when the sickness makes everyone so much money. Think about it. It’s like world peace for men like us.” He shrugged his wide shoulders. “We’d be broke, if that ever happened.”
Dmitry's Redemption: Book One (The Medlov Men 7) Page 9
