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

her dress and quickly pulled the trigger. She felt the jerk of the powerful weapon push her backwards. It happened so fast until she was not even certain that she had hit her target. It pained her to look.

Before Dorian could look back down at her, he heard the loud explosion. It was the first of many shots. People dropped around the room in a blink of an eye as men pointed their guns and aimed. The clicks of machinery filled the room. In slow motion, Dorian looked down at his stomach to find blood spewing from his would.

He fell to his knees behind her in dismay. Rubbing his hands over his injury, he collapsed on the hard floor with his eyes focused in on her.

"Hiding you hand is always a bad thing," Royal said, shooting him once more. Blood splattered on her face and across the room.

Around her, bullets whizzed. Again déjà vu. She curled up by the dead man to take cover and looked across the room as her husband attacked Dorians men in a full animalistic rage.

Guns blazing, Dmitry's men ripped through the remainder of Dorians men, while he slaughtered them with his knives, slicing them open with quick wrists movements and angry punches. Dropping the knives, he stood like a mountain in his place, Desert Eagle guns in both hands pumping bullets into the walls, blasting the glass and killing them all.

She saw the satisfaction in his face. The completion of his act was startling. Her husband was a monster, but she loved him. And he had only returned for her. She knew that. She knew him, regardless of what some stranger told her.

She heard heavy footsteps running towards her. Closing her eyes to prepare for whatever would come, she felt Dmitry land on top of her, still shooting and protecting her.

He finally stood in the silent room, all of Dorians men dead, some of Dmitry's as well. He picked Royal up in his arms, scooped her up from the floor with Dorians blood drenching the train of her dress. Dropping the disengaged bomb from his body onto Dorians chest, he quickly hurried out in the hotel.

The gun shots alarmed the people dancing carefree at the ball in the adjourning room. They heard the screams and saw the men running out covered in blood creating mass hysteria. Hundreds of people flooded out of the ballroom, trampling over their masks and pushing each other to get away from apparent doom as security pushed through unsuccessfully to get towards the backroom.

Dmitry, Royal and his men blended in with the crowd as they ran quickly out of the building and loaded into their cars.

* * *

The deal was complete. The cargo was moved by the Spetsnaz from its safe location in Sochi to cargo boats outside of the city on the waterway that would drop the goods off across the Black Sea in Istanbul with a very eager group of Jewish freedom fighters coming up from Israel to meet him. His father had done it. He had made Anatoly a living legend. Only at what cost?

Still in his tux, Anatoly sat on Bardzeckis yacht alone looking out across the dark water as the fireworks were set off on the pier. The vibrant colors lit up the skyline with vivid hues of happiness. He looked up in a daze recalling his fathers advise for the hundredth time. His father had warned him, but he had ignored him. Don't send her, if you care for her. Now, he was alone on the yacht with no word from Victoria.

He told her to meet him immediately after. A small speed boat would bring her from the shore to the yacht, and she would travel with him to Istanbul, maybe do some shopping in the Grand Bazaar and definitely a quick stop in the art district of Nuruosmaniye Caddesi to get rid of the hideous bust he had bought tonight for $550 million.

Only, when he called her phone, it went straight to voicemail—a definite sign that something was wrong, possibly horribly wrong.

For the life of him he could not understand why Victoria meant anything at all to him. He had tried to rationalize how losing her would be a good thing, how sending her into harms way would show how much he despised her. Yet, he found himself spending far too much thinking about the simplest words she said or the looks that she gave him. In just a couple of days, he had become bewitched, though he would never admit it. Maybe he wouldn't have to.

He took a sip from his drink and looked out across the waterway at the city moving farther and farther away.

Chapter 22

A beautiful sunset casted a tranquil glow over the Medlov Chateau as the family prepared for a huge dinner for the family and staff. A month had passed since the Dorian incident, and things were finally back to normal.

Royal and Dmitry had committed to being completely transparent, and Anatoly had been off for a month selling his inventory around the world. Anya had even started to attend a school in town only blocks from the boutique that Royal and Dmitry drove her to and picked her up from every day.

Tonight, the feast was larger than ever. Food had been prepared all day, and the house was cleaned and opened in celebration of Dmitry and Royal's newest addition to the Medlov Family scheduled to arrive in eight months.

The news had come as shocker weeks after the two arrived back from Sochi in the form of morning sickness for Royal. Dmitry was ecstatic at the prospect of doing it right this time, and they quickly headed to the doctor for confirmation and prenatal care.

Royal's enormous appetite had Dmitry cooking constantly. He prepared special meals for her every day at the restaurant and spent his nights picking out