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

be sure who all was with Dmitry, but he had an idea that his numbers were large tonight. He and his crew of ten slipped into the back when they saw their client leave, smiling from ear to ear and talking to his men. They gave a final nod to each other as they passed.

When they walked into the room, Dorian expected Dmitry to be surprised to see him or at least alert, but Dmitry sat on a lounge chair drinking another glass of vodka and talking to his men with his legs crossed and his jacket open.

His man closed the door behind them when they had all filed in. No need to include the outside world in old world business.

"Dmitry Medlov," Dorian said with a kind of condescending smile. "It's been what… years?"

"At least three," Dmitry said, not bothering to stand. "Would you like a drink?" he asked, raising his glass.

"I don't drink. You know that."

"Right." Dmitry put down his glass on the table. "The whole holy man act. Won't drink alcohol. Won't curse. Won't eat certain meats, which you are missing out on by the way. But will have a married woman up to your hotel room for 37 minutes and 12 seconds." Dmitry clenched his jaw and uncrossed his long legs.

"You are thorough, Dmitry. Always have been… and long winded. So lets keep this short and simple."

"Lets." Dmitry stood up. His men stood with him, guns visible.

"Are we going to continue a war that's older than your beautiful, young wife, or are we going to move on?" Dorian asked as his men assembled around him.

"Depends. Have you done anything at all besides speaking with my wife that could endanger my family?"

"No."

"Sure about that?" Dmitry tilted his head. "Nothing at all?"

"No," Dorian answered flatly.

"You know, meetings like this are the kind where someone doesn't leave alive," Dmitry reminded Dorian. He pulled his jacket open to reveal his guns. He was doubly strapped with two desert eagles.

"This is true, brat."

"I. Am. Not. Your. Brother." Dmitry said, pointing at him with a heart stopping scowl.

* * *

Royal arrived at the will call and picked up her ticket marked Ms. Stone and headed into the ball. Under dim strobe lights and loud music with people dancing around her, she looked on confused about where to go.

Dorian told her that they would be meeting in a private room. She wondered if she was in the right place. Closing her eyes, she drowned out the music and tried to remember his words, his voice. Then suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. A short man in a Russian uniform smiled at her.

"There in the back, dear," he said, pointing towards the exit sign in the back of the room. "I'm sure they are waiting on you."

She smiled and clenched her fists. Mouthing thank you, she slipped through the crowd before Dmitry's men could get to her and ran through the corridor, up the stairs to the back room. Grasping the cold knob, she opened the door and entered.

Dmitry stood on one side with his men and Dorian stood on the opposite side with his. The men at the door looked on confused. Obviously, they were with Dorian.

"Royal," Dmitry said unsurprised. "Come here. I was hoping that you would miss our little party tonight."

She looked over at Dorian.

"Come here!" Dmitry shouted, making her jump. "Now!"

"No," she said, standing at the door. "Dorian promised a truce. If you would just forgive him for the past." Her eyes were wide and naïve.

Dorian smiled. "A truce," he repeated.

"There can be no truce," Dmitry said, raising his hand and motioning for her to come to him. "There is no truce."

"Please, Dmitry. Please," she begged. She walked towards the middle of the floor.

"Do you see his unwillingness to compromise?" Dorian taunted, walking toward her.

"Make one more move, Dorian," Dmitry said calmly. "One more."

Dorian stopped in his tracks only inches away from Royal.

Unexpectedly, Dmitry snatched off his jacket. Everyone looked over at him. What did he expect to do? Fight for her? There was more at stake than her honor.

Dmitry pealed out of his white dress shirt to reveal a bomb strapped to his body. It barely covered the many Vory tattoos and the rippling, angry muscles, covered in venom-pumping veins.

The room was a silent roar.

Check mate.

"Recognize anything familiar, Dorian?" Dmitry asked, pulling his knives from his side, ready to do battle.

"No, Dmitry!" Royal said, trying to run towards him. The men stopped her. "What are you doing?"

"This is the kind of man he is, Royal," Dorian explained. "If it cannot be his way, it cannot be… period! He would rather kill us all—kill you. He's an animal."

"This is the bomb you placed on my plane to kill my family just yesterday," Dmitry explained more for Royal than Dorian. "I have decided… you will not have her, rape her, harm her. I allowed it to happen once. It will not happen ever again. Before she is ruined, I will kill us all. And most of all, you will not have the chance to get to my child!" Dmitry screamed.

"Dmitry… " Royal said confused.

"Do you not realize that you are not safe with this man? He is only committed to the Vory. He always has been. It's why he lied to you about his return. It's why he married you falsely, under a different name, because legally you are not married at all, and he is still within the coveted code that means more to him than you. I bought you here to see for yourself, Royal."

Royal looked over at her husband and felt faint. It had never dawned on her that he had staged her death to marry her fraudulently. The pain of the truth stabbed through