Dmitry's Royal Flush: Rise of the Queen Nelson, S. (best finance books of all time TXT) 📖

With the curtains pulled to see the Black Sea and the parade of fine yachts as they sailed by, he poured himself a nice strong glass of vodka and opened his laptop. The meeting would not be for another two hours. It would give him just enough time to take a bath and call Royal.

Even after a hectic day, he still could not take his mind off of her. How he longed to be with her now. He wanted to hear her voice, feel her hot body against his again, smell her perfume and feel her long hair rub over him. The thought of her oddly enough gave him an uncompromising hard on. He looked down at his rising pants and sighed.

"Royal, you're killing me," he said aloud, taking a sip from the crystal goblet.

The sun slipped into his room as it reflected on the water. Crisp air waved the soft curtains and shined on his bright eyes. They flickered in the mirror across the room as he looked at himself.

He was getting old. He could see the gray in hair when the stylist had pulled through his gold locks earlier. And he could see the lines even more pronounced now on the sides of his eyes.

Time was no longer on his side. That was why he had to do this for his son, even though he was going against his sacred vows to his young wife.

Anatoly had a chance to make a true name for himself—something that would be more respected by his peers than a legacy.

Closing his eyes, he rested his head back on the chocolate leather chair and tried to relax.

* * *

While Dmitry was resting, Anatoly was downstairs with his bodyguards having drinks at the Black Magnolia. With only a few people in the restaurant, he had a clear view of a huddle of young blondes eyeing him from across the room. They looked like trouble, like fun. He ordered them drinks and had them sent over.

"I think she wants you, boss," his bodyguard, Vasily, said smiling.

"Which one?" Anatoly asked looking at the girls as they waved thanks over to him. "I don't see how my father does it. He's faithful to one woman," he shook his head. "One woman." He put up his index finger.

"What's wrong with that," Vasily asked.

"Well you can't have all of them if you're busy pleasing one," Anatoly said, grinning as the women got up from their seats and headed towards them.

Anatoly had never committed to Brigitte, nor did he plan to anytime soon. He was Vor—and not just any Vor. He was boss. His father had thrown away the freedom that came with such a prestigious honor.

Not being allowed to marry or have children simply meant that he never had to worry about being tied down. There was no one to argue with or lie to about his whereabouts, no one to spend late nights lamenting over and no one to answer to except God and council.

He smiled at the thought. These women were like so many. They saw the expensive clothes, the entourage of men, the watches, the cars and the attention. They all wanted to be a part of it. He was happy to oblige them… for the night.

Chapter 7

As the sun set in Prague, Victoria pulled up to the private drive of the Chateau as high as a kite from doing coke lines in the back room of the restaurant with some shady characters she had met through Ryno. Maybe now, she could finally stomach the Medlov clan for another week before she headed back to her new haven.

Lanterns hung beside the closed iron gate and two cameras focused in on the car. After a moment, the gates opened, and she dashed down the road with the top down in one of the family's cars, a sleek silver Maserati GranCabrio.

Unbelievably, the Mistress had allowed her to borrow it. She knew that Mistress Medlov didn't want to, but the prospect of getting her out of the house was too exciting for the uptight witch to resist. When Victoria had asked her about borrowing a vehicle, the mistress had thrown her the keys and said simply, "it's the last car on the left wing of the garage." With that she sashayed out of the room with her daughter and disappeared down the hall.

After parking the car, Victoria grabbed a few bags out of the trunk and headed inside the house. To her surprise, Anya was nowhere to be found. Evidently, Mistress Medlov had spent the entire day with her daughter instead of curled up in her bed like a hermit. There were even fresh flowers throughout all of the foyers. She walked in the darkness down the marble hallway to the stairs leading to her room. As she made it to the steps, she heard a voice behind her.

"Victoria," Royal said softly.

"Yes ma'am," Victoria answered, turning around slowly. She could see the tall woman standing down the hall. Even in the darkness, she looked stately in a slender skirt and turtleneck.

"I'd like to talk to you, if you're not too busy… now," Royal hit the light fixture and lit up the dark corridor. "Would you mind meeting me in my study?"

"Of course," she backed away from the stairs and followed Mistress Medlov with the bags and her purse still in her hand.

Victoria had no idea that the mistress had a study, too. Where was it? She thought that she had committed every room on the first floor to memory.

Victoria followed her with at least ten feet between them past Dmitry's study, past the great room and gym to a pair of white double doors at the very end of the hall in the corner.

Royal unlocked the doors and opened them for Victoria. "After you," she