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

other’s space with their overbearing bodies crammed into the little area.

“I can arrange for us to sit somewhere else,” Dmitry noted.

“Don’t worry about it. We won’t take up too much of your day.” Sorrello shifted in the chair.

“An innocent man would want to know what this is all about,” Agosto said, softly. He looked up at Dmitry under long dark lashes, his brown eyes focused in on his new opponent.

“My question was just about to be, tell what this is all about,” Dmitry smirked. He looked back at him with an ice cold stare.

Sorrello let Agosto take the lead considering that he had an established relationship. He watched as Agosto did his magic.

Agosto tapped his fingers on the table before he began contemplating how to convey to Dmitry that he knew more than he actually did. “You’re a very hard man to track. You’ve been all over this city today, burning gas like its water. Hell, I had to run three red lights to keep up with you. I’m surprised that you didn’t get a ticket.”

Dmitry smiled and took a sip of his wine. “You fol-lowed me here to tell me to slow down?”

“Come on, man.” Agosto laughed. “I came down here to talk to you man-to-man about some shit going on around town that’s got your name all over it.”

“Very suspect kinds of things,” Sorrello added, eating one of the rolls in the basket on the table. Dmitry mo-tioned at his own mouth, indicating to Sorrello that he had bread crumbs on his chin.

Dmitry looked at Agosto and laughed. “Evidently not suspect enough for you to make an arrest, or I’d be in custody already, old friends or not.” Dmitry passed Sorrello a napkin and raised his eyebrow.

Agosto laughed, revealing deep dimples in this well-tanned skin. “Hey. You know me. I keep going until I get my guy.”

“Who are you meeting here today?” Sorrello asked in-terupting.

“My financial advisor,” Dmitry said, completely relaxed. “My stocks are in the toilet,but my off shore investments are doing great. I would like to move around a little capital.”

“By off shore, you mean your millions in pharmaceuti-cals in Switzerland or medical research in Belgium?” Sorrello asked, revealing his inept knowledge of Dmitry’s private life and financial investments.

“Both actually,” Dmitry answered. “Sounds to me like I should have invited my lawyer, too. This could definitely be considered harassment, gentlemen. ”

“Well now, we didn’t come here to harass you.” Agosto took his drink from the waitress. “We came here to give you a heads up, if you’re not actually a criminal.”

“I am no criminal.” Dmitry confirmed. “Heads up about what?”

“Well, we have received reports that a whore-house full of Russian beauties is being operated in one of your many homes in Memphis, and its being run by your baby brother. What is his name?”

“Ivan?” Dmitry asked, intrigued. This was something new.

“That’s his name,” Agosto said, smilingat Sorrello. “Ivan.”

Dmitry’s calm was starting to show a tattering edge. He shifted in his seat a little. “I assure you that I don’t deal in whores,” he said,cutting his eyes at Agosto. His prominent strong jaw was clinched tightly together.

“That’s what I thought. I mean, you’ve been here for every bit of ten years or more. How many times have the police ever accused you, of all people, of anything? You’re a pillar of our community. A charitable, wealthy business man doesn’t dabble in human trafficking.” His voice was laced with sarcasm.

Agosto slid him a picture of Ivan standing outside of one of his rental properties escorting a group of women inside. He gave Dmitry a smug grin. “So, I keep asking myself, ‘what the fuck is this then?”

Dmitry’s eyes snapped to the photo. His breathing slowed down more, to a calm even tone. “Gentlemen, I am afraid that I cannot tell you,” Dmitry smiled.

“Mr. Medlov, have you ever heard of a group called the International Law Enforcement Academy in Budapest, Hungary?” Sorrello asked.

“I’ve heard of it a few times,” Dmitry sat back and his seat, still composed.

“Most people haven’t. It’s a working group that focuses on international crime syndicates like the Eurasian trash that we keep linking to you, and they discuss you pretty often along with a larger Eurasian working group that has been curious about your global operations.” Agosto injected.

“Like I said, I’ve heard of it. It’s no secret. You can Google it, you know.”

“You know, I worked my entire life because of my family’s money and my ethnic background as an Italian American to disprove all the rumors and assumptions that because I had a vowel on the end of my name, I had to be mafia.”

Agosto and Dmitry locked eyes.

“You didn’t like the stereotype, huh?”

“I despise it,” Agosto replied. “But you seem to em-brace it and meet all of the expectations of the label, man. You don’t care that people look at you like you’re some sort of animal.”

“When you’re older, you’ll realize that they look at you like that anyway. We are in Memphis, you and I. Sorrello, you too. Though I get the feeling that you are more of a blunt object thanAgosto.” Dmitry smirked and took a sip of his water. “It’s doesn’t matter if you have big millions or little millions,Agosto. You’re still foreign to this place, still different and everything you do, including race-mixing is wrong. You and I have a lot in common, don’t we?”

“No, I don’t think that we do.”

“All they’d have to do is prove that those women are there involuntarily.” Agosto confirmed.

“Well, they are not their involuntarily,” Dmitry said calmly.

“You had better hope that no one says otherwise,” Agosto spoke under his breath.

“Why are you giving me this heads up?” Dmitry slid the picture back to Agosto, having immediately recognized the property.

“Just want you to get your house in order – that’s all,” Agosto said, drinking the entire glass of scotch. He set the glass down gently on the table and stood up. “We know that you are a good guy and couldn’t possibly know what’s