tk

by Laddie252

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13. Chapter 13

Chapter 16
Instead of Royal‟s cold getting better, by the day, it was
only getting worse. Dmitry had stayed up with her the night
before while she coughed and ran a ferocious fever. He had
given her everything that he could buy over-the-counter.
The results had not been favorable. She only coughed more.
Tired and extremely worried, he finally rang his private
doctor to come over and take a look at her.
After the doctor prescribed a few antibiotics, Royal was
sent back to bed under Dmitry‟s ever watchful eye. Royal
had, of course, contested his decision that she was to stay at
home and rest. She had argued that the shop would be
open in a couple of hours, and she should go and just hang
out upstairs in case anyone needed her. Dmitry had given
her a stern look, an even sterner voice and escorted her
back upstairs to the bed, where he tucked her in and
insisted that she not step foot outside of their home until
she was better.
At first, Royal started to fight him on it. But alas she
could not. He stood before her, unshaven, in a pair of jeans
and a t-shirt from the day before and coughing a little from
being exposed to influenza.
Just let him take care of you, she said to herself as he
pulled the duvet comforter over her legs. Without a word,
he kissed her on her forehead and closed the door behind
him, leaving her to watch Wendy Williams on the television
and read fashion magazines. She smiled. It was nice to
have him pamper her, but it was even nicer to watch her
favorite daytime talk show host give the skinny on all the
stars.
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Barefoot and exhausted, Dmitry made his way back
downstairs to his study, where he found his son filing away
some papers. Anatoly looked up as his father entered the
room but continued with his task. Looking back just to
make sure that Royal had not followed him, Dmitry closed
the door behind him and sat down in one of the large
leather chairs to relax his aching body. He rubbed his
temples and sniffled a little.
"Good Morning," Anatoly said, initiating the conversation.
"The sun is not even up yet, so why are you? Were you
disturbed by Royal‟s cackling all night, too?"
Anatoly smirked. "You know. This is first time I‟ve
ever seen you take care of anyone except yourself." He slid
the last of the files in the drawer and closed it.
Dmitry sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "There is
something about her… I cannot explain."
"Maybe it‟s because she isn‟t a money grubbing whore
like the women before her."
"That could be," Dmitry sat up. "She wanted to go to
work today – in the state that she‟s in."
Anatoly leaned on the corner of his father‟s desk. "You
sound surprised. This is Royal that we‟re talking about."
Dmitry nodded in agreement.
"I did as you asked," Anatoly said sighing. The conversation
quickly changed. Dmitry stopped smiling and sat up
in his chair.
"And?"
"There is more than one of these whorehouses. Ivan
has more like ten."
"Ten?"
"There is more. Word on the street is that he‟s trying to
negotiate with the Mexicans on an upcoming drug shipment
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of meth coming up the pipeline, and he‟s been seen with the
owner of the Black Tie strip club. I think that he‟s pressuring
him to sell."
The news definitely bothered Dmitry, but he dared not
show it. "Do you know why we have done so well for the
last ten years, Anatoly?"
"No. News of our unorthodox tactics got around?"
"More than that." There was a twitch in Dmitry‟s eye.
"It‟s because we found niche, and we did not bother to
spread ourselves thin by doing more than the things that we
were good at. Each of the original men who came to
Memphis from Moscow or New York had strong background
in gun running. Some of them had been rebels for
legitimate causes in the motherland and others simply
criminal minds with a hunger to get rich.
"Now, weapons trafficking is not just about selling to
thugs and funding street wars. We have an array of highend
hunters who want untraced quantity, cops who want
unmarked reliable guns, rednecks who stockpile for race
wars, guns for hire who need professional grade munitions,
ex-military who want the weapons they used in Iraq,
aficionados who want them in the house for show and tell
and heads of organized crime, who need them for protection."
Dmitry smiled, as he watched his son soak up the
information like a hungry sponge.
"So you cut your market share by not expanding when
you clearly had the man power, and this is a good thing?"
Anatoly was perplexed. It didn‟t make much since to him.
It never had. He had always wanted his father to expand
the empire by selling more than just guns.
"No. This is better than a good thing…it is smart thing.
See, you have to know history of a place before you just
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come in and start to take it over. Do you know much
about Memphis‟ organized crime families?"
"Elvis, Bar-b-que, Three-Six Mafia rap group. What
else is there to know?"
"Much more, son."
"Well, it‟s four o‟clock in the morning. Why don‟t you
explain it to me? I have nowhere to be for hours." He
tapped his finger on his watch.
"Dah. I tell you all so that you are smarter than the next
generation of Vor, and you lead best."
Dmitry motioned at the chair across from him. Anatoly
took off his suit jacket and sat down in the comfortable
chair to listen to his father. He sat up attentively awaiting
the knowledge that only Dmitry could share.
"We came from different market. There was much opportunity
when the Soviet Union fell. Those who were in a
position to leave did. We went so many places before we
came here, but the long and short of the route was Moscow
to New York. When we got here, this area already had
drugs and whores by the bus loads. Black and whites were
shipping cocaine in from Mexico via Texas, heroine from
Afghanistan, cooking and shipping meth and crack cocaine
here locally and from the southern borders, getting marijuana
and prescription drugs from Canada and California and
home growing their own whores. We could not add any
value to these things. Plus, the relationships were there.
People had their supply chains set in stone."
"What about other things?"
"Other things? Chop shops are more risk than return.
Pornography doesn‟t do it for me. We wanted something
we could centralize and maintain for this area. Small dollar
schemes are for armatures. Plus, we have lucrative businesses
all over US and other countries.
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"Running numbers and the whole betting machine belongs
to the Italians, and they took big hit when the casinos
came to Mississippi. So they responded by clinching their
unions tighter, increasing their chop shops and construction
businesses and cutting into the drug market, which by the
way, when we arrived here was basically run by three major
drug dealers. One Italian and two blacks had the entire city
locked down. Eventually the drug dealers got popped one
by one and their investment bankers retired to nice locales
in more tropical regions. All of this was due to a war
between the blacks and the Italians that nearly lasted five
years."
"What started the war?" Anatoly asked.
"The one Italian drug dealer wanted to expand more
into areas that were not really the blacks‟ territory but not
really his."
"And the blacks pushed back?"
"You‟re damned right. It was bloodshed on both the
streets and in the police department. That‟s why Agosto
and Brooks were named leads on the mayor‟s war on drugs.
Agosto is Italian, and he‟s an implant to Memphis straight
from Miami. Brooks was a native black with ties directly to
the mayor, since both he and his father worked for him.
"This union created by Mayor Henderson was to begin
to develop a peace between Italians and blacks in the
community. But people were pissed because Agosto and
Brooks never once busted any large black or Italian drug
dealers. They hit up a middle weight Hispanic drug dealer
by the name of Caesar. Agosto ended up killing him in his
own bedroom after Brooks was assassinated. When Brooks
died, the city went insane on their drug witch hunt. And all
sides went scrambling to take over Caesar‟s territory that
was eventually divided by the black and Italians after a truce
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was called, but it‟s still mostly run by a Mexican cartel out of
Mexico City, because there was big transition from crack
cocaine to meth. You know, the economy is bad…"
"So why didn‟t Vory use that opportunity to move in?"
"Opportunity costs were too high. We had credible Intel
from the feds that all parties were being watched carefully.
However the ATF did not have a strong presence in the
area. Now the fucking DEA was hopping all over this city.
They had stake out on every corner. So, we opted to stay in
guns, because it was safer. Plus the Hispanics, Blacks and
Italians were shooting each other left and right, and we were
the ones making a killing. Sure we have drug cartels and
money laundering across the US, but we only handle guns
here. A lot of Vory have gotten to the point that they don‟t
even do business in their home cities. They just run things
from a central base. It‟s safer that way. It never comes
back on you."
"Yeah. I heard you talking to the men about it. So with
guns, you had neutrality?" Anatoly was much more interested
in what market share they already controlled.
"Exactly. Everyone came to us. And we had an understanding
with all sides that we would sell to anyone with cash
or goods to barter. Since that time because of our supply
chain nationwide, we have amassed so much wealth it
is…ungodly."
"Selling to everyone didn‟t create a problem for you? I
can‟t see how it wouldn‟t."
"At first, it was hard to persuade them. And my old
boss taught us to think through things with our minds
before we resulted to guns. But when I saw that we
couldn‟t reason with some of the groups, we brought in
enforcers from Israel and Georgia and introduced them to
what the Vory v Zakone was all about. Then people started
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to respect our territory. We showed up at people‟s jobs, at
their homes, at their businesses. Then the extortion began
and after that, it was almost total submission. They saw that
no place was safe or sacred. Hell, once a man was cut from
ear to ear outside of the police department. Unfortunately,
they never got his cooperation."
"So violence does work." It was one of Anatoly‟s most
effective techniques.
"Sometimes it works, but you will find my old boss‟ advise
very helpful. Only young men like you roll heads. As
you get older, the way that people can tell that you are
leader is not by what you have to do but what you don‟t
have to do. Anyway, we moved in quickly and knocked the
small fish out of pond.
"Most of the Vory that came down here had been to
war and back. So, they lived and breathed the takeover. It
took us seven months to kill the competition, set up our
headquarters and start taking large orders for guns. The
death toll was astronomical. But it eventually leveled off
once people saw that we weren‟t after their drugs or whores
or their cars or anything else. We just wanted to sell them
some quality guns."
"Just like that? Huh?"
"Just like that," Dmitry said, quickly. "Now the importance
of our legitimate businesses, which as you know go
completely against our original code, is to launder money
efficiently. All of us bought real estate, started business,
and purchased stock, bonds and CDs. We washed the
money clean through our intricate web of family businesses.
In less than five years, we made millions on top of millions.
Plus, every time the crime rate goes up in Memphis, not
only home owners get guns, bad guys do too. So, we sell to
everyone. Between the heads of the Memphis Vory, we
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have four guns shops here, two pawns shops, a shooting
range, three restaurants, a tire shop, a beauty salon, a
grocery store, six check cashing stores, four liquor stores,
over 20 residential properties, an upscale boutique, seven
commercial properties, and a fucking partridge in a pear
tree. That, my son, keeps our shipments safe and legitimate.
We ship guns, but not all of them are illegal. And when
some young agent or hard-up cop wants to get hot on our
trail, a friendly brother-in-blue gives us the heads up…for a
fee, of course."
"So, you‟ve always owned a few cops to give you the
inside scoop?"
"They are sometimes hard to find. But yes. A cop was
the lead that let me know that Memphis was an untapped
oyster for my business eleven years ago. He helped me get
started here in exchange for us supplying his own little war
against some very unwilling citizens that didn‟t want to sell
their land to a major corporation that needed the land to
expand."
"How did you meet him?"
"I was introduced to him while he was on trip to New
York looking to acquire some hired help after he made the
deal with corporation."
"What happened to the cop? Is he still around?"
"He retired once the land was acquired. Evidently, he
got big, big cut from sale of the property because his wife
was the land broker."
"Does everyone retire?"
"If you‟re lucky." Dmitry sighed. "If I am lucky."
"So now we control the flow of guns into the city and
out of the city for everyone, even North Memphis where
the Hispanic gun traders had settled in and we have ten
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whore houses." Anatoly didn‟t see the problem, but would
follow his father‟s lead.
"Do I look like a fucking pimp to you? It‟s not my
style. My mother was whore. She died in my arms on the
steps of our home because of a John that both me and my
brother knew well. It‟s not pretty business, and it‟s not
business that has a great return. Munitions on the other
hand, we have a lock on."
"So what do we do about your brother‟s ambitious new
businesses?"
Dmitry looked his son in the face and smiled. "Burn it
to ground. It‟s a matter of survival and none of our council
has agreed to this new business of his."
"I can see it. You‟re on the verge of a war with him."
"The verge? My boy, we are battling every day. The
biggest battle has just not begun yet."
"Are you going to kill him?"
"I don‟t know. I don‟t want to, but I fear that if he continues,
as much as I love him, I will."
"You should have me do it." Anatoly said eagerly.
"You do not have your stars yet," Dmitry said absently.
He could see that just the mention of that fact defeated
Anatoly.
"It is not for lack of trying."
"You have proven yourself. Give me until the next
meeting of the high council, and it will be done." Dmitry
reached out and tapped his son‟s knee. "Now, I am going
to hit my gym. Class is over. You get some rest."

It was mid-morning when Dmitry opened the door their
bedroom carrying a large silver tray with a bowl of chicken
noodle soup, a glass of orange juice and a flower. The sun
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beamed into the room and onto the bed where Royal was
curled up under the comforter.
She had dosed off to sleep again, completely drained
from her constant coughing and the strong drugs the doctor
had given her, but she quickly woke up when she heard his
feet walking across the floor. She opened her eyes, looked
up at him and saw small circles under his eyes. Maybe she
needed to take care of him for a while.
"Are you still running fever?" he asked, setting the food
down on the large nightstand beside them.
"I don‟t think so," she said, touching her own forehead.
"I just feel stuffy."
"I‟m going to use remedy on you that has worked wonders
for me for years." Dmitry passed her the glass of
orange juice.
"What would that be?" She stretched out her long legs
and moaned.
"First you take hot shower; then you put Vick‟s vapor
rub on your chest."
"Oh, I‟ve done that before. Not for years, but I‟ve
done it."
"We do it today," he confirmed. "So eat your food."
Dmitry stood up and walked into the bathroom, where
she heard him turn on the jets to the shower. She grabbed
the remote, flipped through her channels and suddenly
realized that this was the first day in a very long time that
she had been home during this hour.
It was quite odd to her, how the sun shined through the
blinds so bright and forceful. It was practically begging her
to get up and go to work. It was also such a shame to waist
a brilliant day of sunlight, even if it was freezing outside.
But Dmitry would never let her go. He might, in fact, keep
her longer if she pushed him. She huffed at the thought.
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Submitting to his relentless will, she grabbed her bowl
and spoon and ate just enough of the soup to make her
throat feel better then pulled herself out of bed. Shedding
out of her heavy University of Memphis pullover and
jogging pants, she walked into the bathroom in her panties
in bra, where she found Dmitry leaning over the sink
shaving.
He looked over at her through the mirror and then motioned
for her to get into the water.
"Breathe in fog once you‟re in there," he said as he
tapped his razor against the porcelain bowl. "It will open
up your passages."
Running his razor through the stream of water coming
out of the faucet, he lifted his neck and let the long fourpronged
blade gently glide the length of his lower chin and
neck.
Royal took off her panties and bra and placed it in the
wicker hamper, and then opened the large, smoked glass
door to the box-like glass shower room where water shot
from the many jets shot straight into her from every
direction. Taking deep breaths as Dmitry instructed, she
grabbed a bottle of tea-tree shampoo and washed her hair.
The steam enclosed the room, hiding her from Dmitry‟s
view, and the hot water soothed her aching body and her
congested chest.
Now cleanly shaven, Dmitry opened the door and
dropped his towel. Entering into the shower room, he
grabbed the soap and walked up beside her. Running his
hands over the knobs, he adjusted his jets to his own
temperature and pressure.
Royal eyed him while she rinsed her hair. His large
frame towered over her, and even with his wall-like back
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turned away from her, she could see his magnificent
sculpting from every angle. She tilted her head a little to get
a better view, but he turned enough to catch her peeking.
Rinsing the soap from his face, he pulled her over to him
and stood in front of her, hiding her from view.
"You‟re supposed to be sick" he said smiling.
He knew Royal‟s devilish look. The cascade of water
ran over his body, flattened his normally curly hair. She
watched as the water glistened on his wet skin. Instinctively,
she ran her hand down the front of his marble chest.
"Then make me feel better," she whispered, moving in
closer to his body.
Dmitry ran his hands through her soapy hair and pulled
her in front of jets to rinse her off. The water covered her
face and caused her to tilt her head back. She could feel
the warm water and his large hands on her head rinsing her
clean. With her eyes closed, she felt Dmitry‟s hungry lips
meet hers. He kissed her softly, exploring the soft ebb and
flow of her lively tongue. She could taste the minty freshness
of his toothpaste and feel the warmth of his full lips.
He held her face in both of his hands as he bent over to
her. She bit his lips playfully and smiled as he pulled her
out of the water.
"Come on. I‟m going to dry you off before you get
worse." He opened the door to the shower and handed her
a large towel to dry off.
"But I thought you said that you would make me feel
better?" She wrapped the towel around her body and
followed him out into the bedroom.
"I never said that, shop girl," he said, going to his large
armoire to pull out a clean pair of underwear.
Royal lay back on the bed in her towel, placed her feet
on the side rails of the bed and looked at the ceiling fan.
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She wasn‟t sure if she was overheated from the shower or
the man. Raising her head, she looked over at him as he
slipped on his jogging pants.
"Do you feel ill again?" he asked.
"Just weak."
"In your state, why do you want me to make you feel
worse?"
"You won‟t," she leaned over on her side and watched
him walk up the bed.
"I will, and you know it." He crawled in the bed beside
her and grabbed the remote.
"Are you going to tease me all day?" she asked, taking
her eyes off him and concentrating on the television.
"Are you going to pout all day?"
"I may." She crawled back out of bed to get dressed.
When she returned, Dmitry had the bottle of Vick‟s vapor
rub. Rolling her eyes, Royal sat near the opposite edge of
the bed in one of his tailor-made dress shirts and checked
her cell phone.
Dmitry watched her pouting and laughed a little.
Reaching across the bed, he pulled her to him, straddled her
over his lap and slipped his hand under her shirt. She
watched curiously as his hand landed in between her breasts
with a palm full of salve. He rubbed it into her skin softy
and tapped her on her nearly exposed behind.
"Lie down and rest," he said.
"But I can feel that you want me," she said, rotating on
his growing erection.
"But you‟re sick and you need to get well first." His
breathing was growing sporadic watching her seduce him.
The swell of her breast was showing slightly at the top of
the unbuttoned shirt, and her nipples pressed out against
the fine cotton. Had she not been sick, he would have
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already bedded her but decided against it with her fever
rising by the minute. He could feel the heat between her
thighs. She needed rest and medicine not what he so
desired to give her.
Pouting again, she scooted down in the middle of the
bed and put her legs under the cover. As he reached over
to kiss her on the forehead, she sneezed.
"Told you," Dmitry said tauntingly.

Cory could not recall a day that Royal did not come into
the boutique. She must have either been really sick or
Dmitry really insistent. Either way, this gave him the
perfect opportunity to get downstairs in the basement. To
ensure that he had enough time, he had sent Renée on a run
for lunch, office supplies and to drop off a package at the
post office. She‟d be gone now at least an hour. As soon
as she pulled off, he closed the shop and headed to the back
office.
Digging into the pocket of his tight and very uncomfortable
khakis, he pulled out a small piece of paper with a
code. He typed the numbers into the security device and
saw the red light turn green. He quickly opened the door
and headed down the dark staircase.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he ran his hands
against the wall until he found the light switch. As he hit it,
the large lower room illuminated. It was empty with the
exception of a large bed, a standing mirror, a flat screen
television mounted on an opposite wall and a dresser. In
the far corner of the airy space sat a large surveillance center
with monitors all over various establishments of Dmitry‟s
including Mother Russia, the boutique and the front and back
entrance of his home.
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He looked at his watch and realized that he didn‟t have
much time. Pulling open the file cabinet in the corner, he
looked for the surveillance footage from the last week. He
needed to find out what was going on with Ivan. Maybe
these tapes would tell him more about his whereabouts.
Carefully, he placed dated CDs on the table and made
copies on the small laptop on top of the desk. He tapped
his foot impatiently as the copies were generated to his
jump drive. Taking them one by one out of their plastic
protective coverings, he slid them into the computer and
downloaded the information.
When he finished, he picked up the handful of CDs to
take them back to the cabinet and clumsily dropped them
on the floor. He huffed under his breath, and then quickly
tried to gather them up in his arms. As he stood, he heard
footsteps coming down the stairs. His heart began to race.
He grabbed the handle of the file cabinet and dropped
the CDs back into their original file. He knew that he did
not have a gun. So he looked around for a weapon.
Skimming the room, the one thing that stuck out was the
bed. He ran over to it and ran his hand under the railing to
find what he was looking for…a weapon. Sliding the
compact oozy from the Velcro enclosure, he walked up
slowly to the door and pointed it.
The final footstep landed on the ground anchored by a
large leather loafer. From the shadows, Dmitry stepped out
of the doorway and looked over at Cory, who stood with
the gun pointed.
"Shit, Dmitry. You scared the shit out of me," Cory
exhaled, putting the gun down.
"How did I scare you? You‟re supposed to be cop for
Christ‟s sake," Dmitry smirked, making his way across the
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room to the surveillance equipment. "Did you find anything
meaningful?"
"I don‟t know. I haven‟t viewed them yet. I‟m going to
take it back to the apartment and see if there is anything
incriminating on them."
"Let‟s hope that there is," Dmitry said, looking back at
Cory. "Why are you wearing those tight-ass pants?"
"Part of the cover," Cory said, going back over to the
bed. He pulled a pillowcase off of one of Anatoly‟s pillows
and wiped the gun down then placed it back under the bed
where he had found it.
"All gay men don‟t dress two sizes too small, you
know."
"This one does. Where is Royal?"
"Sick."
"Pregnant?"
"No. She has flu." Dmitry sat down in the chair by the
desk and sighed. "I‟m exhausted. Have you thought of
possible exit strategies for Ivan?"
"Yeah." Cory put his hands in his pockets. "I‟ve also
thought about some possible exit strategies for you, too."
"We‟ll get to that soon enough." Dmitry waved off the
portion of the conversation that he cared nothing about.
"Okay. Well, if I can prove on these tapes that he is up
to illegal activity; I can roll this entire investigation over to
him. Almost everything that they have on you won‟t stand
in court now. So, if I give them this bone, they‟ll bite."
Dmitry listened attentively with his hands crossed behind
his head. Rocking the seat, he weighed his options.
"Get the ammunition, but don‟t do anything yet. He‟s
my brother and a Vor. We must deal with him on our
own."
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217
Cory nodded. "Okay. Well, I have to give them something.
This is an investigation."
"Give them the fact that you‟ve seen the surveillance
room, but it was only a glimpse when the door was open.
Give them information regarding the ten whorehouses after
I get the deeds out of my name, and I‟ll work on deciding
the rest in the next couple of weeks."
"Yeah, about that. I‟m taking a week to go home and
be with my wife and kids. Christmas is coming up, and I
don‟t want to miss it with them."
"Of course." Dmitry understood. "I plan to take Royal
away for Christmas anyway. Renée can watch the place.
How is your mother‟s cancer doing?"
"Thanks to you, she‟s in remission. We could have
never afforded the treatments otherwise."
"Then our little arrangement is worth it, dah?"
"Oh yeah. It‟s worth it," Cory sighed. "Let‟s just hope
that it continues to run smoothly."
"It will," Dmitry said, turning towards the monitors.
"Head back up. We have customers coming in. I‟ll stay
down here and look around a while." He peered at the busy
noon traffic at Mother Russia and his staff eagerly working.
"I‟m going to watch them work for a while to ensure that
they are actually living up to my standard of customer
service."
"Alright," Cory said, leaving Dmitry to his surveillance.
To Cory, Dmitry was a very odd man but in a lot of
ways very merciful. Cory had blown his cover the night
that Royal had her opening celebration. He had no idea
that the building had a basement, because it was not on any
of the plans that he and the team had gone over.
That night, seeing that only Royal‟s car was there and
Dmitry was still at the restaurant, and knowing that Royal
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always closed her door upstairs and never came down until
morning, Cory snuck in after hours to comb the boutique‟s
back office for clues.
Anatoly quickly emerged from the basement, gun in
hand and held him at gun point until Dmitry arrived. Cory
was expecting Dmitry to kill him, but they took him downstairs
to the basement and talked to him – asked him what it
would take to flip. Cory had just found out his mother was
in the third stage of cancer, and as an only child, he could
not afford he bills.
Dmitry agreed to pay the doctor bills in full through a
doctor that he knew who would classify the project as a
charitable case. And just like that both of his problems went
away. He would live another day and so would his mother.
Now that his beloved mother was in remission, Cory felt
that he owed Dmitry everything, including the useful Intel
that he gave and the protection that he offered through that
intelligence.

After Dmitry left Mother Russia later that afternoon, he
headed back to his house to check on Royal. He was quite
surprised to see that she had listened and stayed at home.
He had expected to pull into the garage and find her truck
gone, but it was still there, which indicated that she was still
sick. Carrying a small red bag, he walked up the long spiral
staircase of the main hall to the west wing of his home,
where he found Royal in bed watching television.
"Hey," she said, turning off the television with her remote.
"Hi." Dmitry closed the door behind him and walked
up to her side of the bed. "Has your fever gone, yet?" He
placed his hand on her head.
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"Yep," she said, moving his hand. "Did you stop to
check on my shop today, since you wouldn‟t let me leave
the house?"
"Everything is fine." He sat on the bed beside her. "I
have surprise for you." Handing her the small red bag, he
leaned in to kiss her lips.
"What it is?" Royal asked, taking the bag.
A large smiled came across her face as she pulled a small
Christmas tree ornament out of the bag.
"Oh, it‟s so sweet. A figurine of the Red Square." She
held it up to the light to look at the intricately detailed work.
"Does this mean that you‟re going to let me put up the
Christmas tree now. You know, I‟ve been dying to do it?"
She grabbed a napkin and blew her nose.
"Even better that that." He smiled. "I‟m going to take
you to Moscow for Christmas and New Years."
Royal looked up at him stunned. "Excuse me?"
"Well, you‟ve always said that you wanted to go." Dmitry
was confused. Did she not want to?
Royal was quiet for a moment. She moved the comforter
from her legs and stood up. "Does this mean that I‟ll
actually see it all? The Red Square? Kremlin? Lenin's
Mausoleum and St Basil's Cathedral?" She finally smiled
brightly and jumped on top of Dmitry. He caught her in his
embrace and kissed her.
"I was hoping that you would be happy."
"I‟m thrilled. I‟ve never been anywhere outside of the
South. Now, I get to see a new country…I just can‟t
imagine."
"You know why I like doing things for you?" he asked,
moving the hair out of her face.
"Why?"
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"Because you are the only woman in my life who truly
appreciates and deserves it."
"No, that‟s not why you do it," she said, in a matter of
fact tone.
"Really? Then why?"
"Because you love me," she said, kissing his lips and
hugging him tight. "And I love you too."
He looked her in her eyes and shook his head. "Dah,
that‟s why I do it for you. I love you."
"Does this mean that you‟re going to make love to me?"
she asked with her legs wrapped around his back.
"No," Dmitry laughed. "You‟re still sick." He tried to
pull her off of him. "I don‟t want you to get any sicker."
"I‟m not that sick." She kissed his checks and coughed.
"Ugh! You are, too." He laughed.
"Baby, I can‟t believe that we‟re going to Moscow!" She
screamed as she wrestled him down to the bed.