Dmitry's Closet by Nelson, S. (read people like a book .txt) 📕

“Pity,” he said, smiling. “I’d heard about you, but I had no idea just how beautiful...”

“Heard about me?” Royal interrupted.

Even in the stranger’s smile, there was something evil in his eyes. He propped his large hands on the marble-top of the counter showing Cyrillic writing tattooed on each of his fingers and his sprawling frame stretched out like wings as it shadowed her entire body. He looked her up and down before he spoke again, enjoying how she fidgeted in discomfort at the sight of him.

“Yes, heard about you,” he replied, biting his bottom lip. “I’m afraid that they didn’t do you justice. Probably too fucking jealous.” He laughed.

“I’m afraid I still don’t know why you’re here or who they are,” Royal scowled.

“Well, I just recently got to this hell hole. Dmitry knows why I’m here. In his own way, because of his nasty little temper, I guess that he sent for me.”

Royal raised her brow at him.

“Anyway, Royal, I just want you to tell him that I stopped by to see his new property. Trust me, he’ll appreciate the irony.” He smiled again and looked at her breasts. The lustful thoughts were evident in his furrowed, black brows. He looked back up into her eyes again and took a deep breath as he crooked his head a little. “I can see now why he broke his pitiful little monk code. You are absolutely devastating.”

Royal sneered athis advance. “His what code?”

“Nothing.” He looked around curiously.

Royal followed his glance then eyed him. “Well, if he knows why you’re here, then he’ll know how to find you.” She wanted him out of the shop right then.

“Well, one thing is for sure. At least I know that he’ll never be too far here. So, I now know where to find him.” He winked at her. “Take for instance now. I bet he’s only a few blocks away. I know Dmitry. He likes to keep his possessions very, very close to him. He’s a greedy fuck that way. Hoarding everything.”

“Do I look like a possession to you?” she snapped.

“Yes, you do actually. The big question is how much does a woman like you cost?”

“Is that a racist comment? You actually had the balls to walk into a shop and speak to a black woman about how much she costs?”

The man smiled, revealing deep dimples. “That was not racist comment. I was giving you compliment. Would you like to hear a racist comment? I have many.”

“Only if at the end, you go screw yourself.” Royal snapped.

“Oh, I’d rather fuck you.” A smile crossed his lips. “And I’m sure that I could do a better job than that anal nut job of a boyfriend you’ve got.”

She looked into his eyes and saw a stir of something dangerous. That had hit a nerve. He was a typical chauvinist, unable to deal with the directness of a confident woman.

He watched her like a vampire as her blood pressure boiled. The veins in her neck protruded out. The pulsating rhythm of her body could be seen through deep breaths that she took making her breasts rise and fall under the golden silk.

Royal reached below the counter and hit the panic but-ton. Just in case he was a psychotic as he seemed, she would need help. Her heart beat so loud and fast; she could hear it in her ears and feel it pushing out the confines of her chest. Calmly, she looked back up at him and rolled her eyes.

Exceedinglygrateful when Renée and Cory came out from the back, she literally belted out a sigh of relief. The man looked over at her and smirked. Her fear was like some loud perfume sprayed all around him. Hard to ignore or escape. He took a deep breath, trying to inhale it all.

To Royal, his eyes looked liked they belonged to a wolf. That’s what he reminded her of, a predator. He looked at her like he wanted to eat her alive. He turned his stare from Royal to Cory, who nearly halted in his tracks when they made eye contact. Renée quickly inched up beside Royal and stood behind the counter.

“Who is this?” Renée asked, equally intimidated.

“This is… I didn’t get your name,” Royal said, stepping back from the counter.

“Ivan Medlov. I’m Kirill’s replacement,” he said menacingly as he looked over and sized up Cory. “Who’sthe fag?” he asked.

Royal looked at Ivan in shock. A Medlov? Really? The similarity was evident, but Dmitry had never mentioned him. Why? She divulged something as precious as her sister’s memory to him, the murder of a perfectly dreadful man by her own hand, and he failed to admit to having a living, breathing blood relative outside of Anatoly? She found his secret cruel. Regardless of how absolutely revolting Ivan was she still felt betrayed by his careless omission.

Ivan turned around and caught her curious frown. It wasn’t the same angry scowl from a minute ago. He instantly put the pieces of her puzzle together and smiled.

“You didn’t know about me, did you?” he asked enjoy-ing watching her realize his connection.

Royal did not respond.

“You know, if you’d like to know more…about the Medlov men, I can take you out for drink. Get us room and show you …”

“I’m not interested,” she interrupted.

“You sure?” he raised his brow.

Cory walked over to the counter and stood with Royal. Grabbing her hand, he smiled. “If we can’t help you with anything else, then we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Aren’t you cute,” Ivan said sarcastically to Cory. “Where’s your little leash?”

Cory’s eye twitched a little,but he didn’t move. “And if you need to get in touch with Mr. Medlov, you can leave your number here, and we can pass it on to him.”

“A number?” Ivan asked.

“Yes,” Cory answered irritated.

“Oh. Okay,” Ivan smirked, digging into his pocket. “I’ve got a...business card with me somewhere.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a silver-plated Glock and laid it on the