Dmitry's Closet Nelson, S. (best reads TXT) 📖

arms around him, she gave him a big hug. “You’re always doing stuff for me. I want to do something for you for a change. Don’t say no.”

He groaned a little. “Okay,” he said, rubbing her back. He sneezed again and buried his head in her shoulder. “I feel like truck hit me.”

∞♥∞

For Dmitry, life was lived through the details. His home or as he affectionately referred to it, their home was a mansion full of perfect, intricate details. The very first time that Royal had been inside it was weeks after their first sexual encounter. Dmitry had persuaded her to spend the night and enjoy a nice dinner, cooked and served by him. The beauty of it stole Royal’s heart, as it was supposed to. It was the most perfect date that she had ever been on with a five course meal, great music, expensive wine and passionate love making.

That evening, Dmitry walked her through each room explaining his motivation for his interior choices and sharing the history or the various cultures behind each piece like she was at a museum on a private tour.

The seven-bedroom, five and half bathroom monster of a house was designer’s dream. He had chosen a French and Russian theme for the house, complimenting the many tall arched windows, iron chandeliers, limestone and marble floors, exotic tiles, beautiful woodwork and masterful furniture with equally brilliant hues of paint, iron work and paintings.

The house in its entirety blew Royal’s mind. It was a testament to his many travels all over the world, his love for Russian culture and his growing dynasty.

The back yard was landscaped with beautiful shrubbery, a large infinity-edged pool and protected by rows and rows of well-pruned trees.

The four-car garage was occupied by his favorite Mer-cedes-Benz McLaren, a black 7 series BMW, a white Mazerati GranTursimo that he hardly ever drove and Royal’s truck. The entire property was surrounded by a brick and rod iron gate and two very non-vicious Dober-man pinchers that Royal liked to pet whenever they would come to her.

His masterpiece would not be complete without a maid, whom Royal opposed having but Dmitry contended was necessary. Royal made sure to never leave a mess and always help with the cleaning still to make a point that she was not a pre Madonna. In all, his fortress was a dream that now seemed more complete with his Memphis prin-cess.

∞♥∞

Anatoly was outside feeding the dogs, when Royal got dressed and headed out to look for him. She found him bent over in the kennel speaking in Russian to the canines. She was certain that he knew that she was behind him, so she waited patiently and quietly until he was finished. He set down the ten-pound bag of Purina and wiped his hands on his jeans and turned around to face her.

“What’s the matter, Royal?” he asked, grabbing his bot-tle of water off the ground. “You need me to take you somewhere?”

“Uh…no. Actually, I came out here to see what you were doing this afternoon.”

Anatoly looked at her curiously. “Why?”

“Well, I’m going to cook a homemade American meal for Dmitry, and Renée is coming over. And I thought that it would be nice if we all had dinner together.”

Anatoly scratched his stubby beard. “I don’t know, I…”

“Please,” Royal said, grabbing his hand. “It would mean a lot to me.”

“Are you trying to hook me up with black girl in your shop?” he smiled.

“No,” Royal laughed. She was taken back by his ability to have a conversation about something normal. “Why? Do you like her?”

“Net…no,” Anatoly said, shaking his head. “I just want to make sure that this is not love connection.”

“No, this is not a love connection. It’s just four people getting together for Thanksgiving dinner.” Royal tried to close the deal. “So, can I count on you?” Her voice pitched higher. “What do you say? You might have some fun.”

Anatoly looked across the back yard as he made his decision. “I say…okay. How bad can you’re cooking be, eh?”

“Great!” Royal jumped a little, happy that he accepted her invitation. “Dinner will be at four, so don’t run off.”

∞♥∞

The fall leaves swept across Cory’s feet as he trotted down Union Avenue in a pair of blue Adidas breakaway pants and a University of Memphis pullover. Having the Thanksgiving holiday off, he celebrated by taking his coveted 4-mile run near his midtown apartment. There were dark, low-level clouds blanketing the skies and promise of a heavy afternoon rain. He only hoped that he could finish his errands before the storm began.

Stopping at Smoothie Queen on corner of Union Avenue, he stretched out his legs and went inside to grab a protein shake. A tall, muscular Italian man in a Best Daddy In the World t-shirt and a Miami Dolphins baseball cap sat in the corner of the shop reading a Flexmagazine. He and Cory made eye contact,and the man gave him a nod.

The shop was empty with only a bald, bulging black man in a white apron behind the counter. Cory quickly ordered and made his way over to the table adjacent from the man.

“You got a tail?” the man asked, turning the page of his magazine.

“Nope,” Cory said, looking out the window.

“Alright. We’ve got 15 minutes. Give me an update.”

“Umm, let’s see.” Cory sighed. “Royal is still living in Dmitry’s house. From what I can tell, nothing illegal is going on over at the boutique, but I can’t be 100% sure because of the locked door that leads to the basement. From what I can tell, Dmitry won’t let anyone do business there. The restaurant is where all the big deals pass through, but they clean it for bugs and check for wire taps daily. Dmitry’s still first in charge,and Anatoly is still second, but Dmitry’s brother Ivan is closing in. There’s some real bad blood between the two of them.”

The man looked over at Cory and sighed. Closing his magazine, he leaned over across the table;his large muscular forearm