The Chronicles of Young Dmitry Medlov: Volume 7 (The Medlov Crime Family Short Stories Series) (4 page)

Chapter 3

As Ivan’s bodyguards pulled up to the front of the massive Medlov estate, he felt a distinct and overwhelming pain in his stomach.  He hated being summoned to see his brother, mostly because it meant the man still had power over him, but also, because Dmitry always wanted something from him. 

Today’s press conference had nothing at all to do with Ivan, and he in no way had been given any role to play in Hutton, but for the cameras and the reporters that would be at the office gawking, Dmitry wanted a unified front.  Ivan found it preposterous.  The outside world would never accept them and having to file bankruptcy was just another glimpse into their overall rejection.  Why he didn’t stick to what they were good at was beyond him. 

Since Dmitry’s return from Italy, he had cleaned house.  He wouldn’t even allow his old guards to watch Ivan.  Instead, he had flown in some of Kirill’s men from Moscow, who spoke very little English and had very bad body odors, to work the detail.  The men were so loyal to Dmitry until Ivan thought that if ordered, they literally might blow their own heads off. 

That is where Ivan felt himself different from Dmitry’s flunkies. Yes, he was Vor but he was a thinker.  He made the final decision whether or not things made sense and he acted accordingly.  Maybe that was why he was such a threat to his brother.  Dmitry hated to have anyone with a backbone or their own ideas in his camp.  Why else would he continuously scoff at the proposal of implementing drugs into their overall model?  It was because Dmitry was acutely unfamiliar with them and had never been high a day in his life.  Such ignorance to those experiences made him prejudice and gave him the ridiculous façade that he was better than everyone else.

But you’re no better than me and I’m going to prove it
, Ivan thought to himself.

As soon as his bodyguards opened the doors to the back of the Land Rover for him and Arie, he bounced out.  Determined to not let them lead him into the house, he darted in front of them and let himself in the front door. 

Stepan moved out of his way quietly.

“Where is the prick?” Ivan asked, snatching off his shades.

“Having breakfast in the main dining room,” Stepan answered, “with a guest.”

“Who?” Ivan said, looking in the corner to see his brother’s running shoes, placed against the baseboard.

Stepan didn’t answer.

“An overnight guest?” Ivan smirked. “You mean he finally got some pussy, Stepan?”

Stepan still did not answer, rather used to the young man’s flagrant and irrational disrespect.

“Master Medlov has asked that you and your wife be sent to study so that he can talk to you after he finishes breakfast,” Stepan finally said, motioning toward the right hallway.

“Fuck off, Stepan.  I’m going to see who he’s having breakfast with, but by all means, if you’re feeling froggy, then jump.  I haven’t kicked anyone’s ass in weeks,” he said, brushing past the older man.

Stepan didn’t bother to try to stop him.  Instead, he trailed few feet behind to make the announcement that he was required to make to the master of the house and then he’d allow Dmitry to deal with his little shit of a brother himself.

Following behind Stepan, Arie smirked quietly.  She wasn’t sure if she was going to enjoy Ivan crashing Dmitry’s breakfast or seeing Dmitry curse her husband out more, but she was about to find out.

Ivan could hear a distinctly feminine laugh through the closed main dining hall doors.  Opening both doors, he dramatically entered.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, as Dmitry’s eyes moved from his guest to where Ivan stood.

Dmitry put down his fork and knife and sucked his teeth. “Ivan,” he said, voice deepening into a growl.  “I thought I asked Stepan to…”

Ivan cut him off. “You did,” he said, locking eyes with Emma.  His smile disappeared.

Emma turned from her plate and looked at him.  “Ivan,” she said simply.

Stepan entered the room and huffed at the scene.  “Master Medlov, Ivan has arrived. It seems that he was unhappy with the arrangements that you prepared for him.” His voice showed his irritation. 

“Is he now?” Dmitry asked, unmoved. Cocking an arm over on the arm rest, he shook his head in disapproval of Ivan’s antics but was not at all surprised.

“He is,” Ivan said, walking over to the table. “I’m get really sick of being talked about in the third person. Don’t you see me standing here?”

“And what a sight you are,” Emma gave a wry smile.

Arie rounded the corner and looked curiously inside at the woman sitting adjacent to Dmitry.  “What in the fresh hell is this?” she asked aloud.

“Are you hungry, brother?” Dmitry let the words slowly leave his mouth. He eyed Ivan carefully, warning him quietly not to create a scene.

“Starved,” Ivan said, pulling the chair out and sitting down.  He kept his smoldering blue eyes on Emma.  “What are you doing here?”

Arie walked over to the table and sat beside Ivan. “Who is this?” she asked quietly.

Dmitry shook his head. This was going to get messy.  “Stepan, bring more breakfast out, will you?”

The butler in his quickest movements went to tell the maid to prepare more food, but made sure to be quick to return. 

“Who is this?” Arie repeated again. Her voice shrieked.

“This is Dmitry’s step-daughter,” Ivan answered.

Arie’s shoulder’s released the tension.  She had thought based on Ivan’s strong reaction to the woman that she was something more.  Evidently, she had been wrong. 

“And my son’s mother,” Ivan added.

Her head crooked toward him. “You have a son?” Arie asked, outraged. 

“How is he?” Ivan asked Emma, ignoring Arie for the moment.

With the smack of her lips, Emma replied.  “Growing. Beautiful.  Fine,” she answered shortly.

“Well that’s good to know considering you won’t
answer any of my fucking calls
,” Ivan protested.  He could feel his brother bristling, but he ignored him as well.

“Now is not the time,” Emma said, picking up her glass of orange juice.

“Really?” Ivan said, giving her an once-over look that let her know he was still thinking about having sex with her, even after so many years.  “Should we talk alone again?  Is that why you’re here?  Does my son need a sibling?”

Emma turned her attentions toward the strange woman, unable to look at the beautiful but clearly psychotic creature who was her father’s son.  “Who is this?”

“My wife,” Ivan answered.

“Nice to make your acquaintance,” Emma said with sheer arrogance in her voice. 

“Why did you not tell me that you had a child?” Arie said, hitting the table.  “Look at me!”

Arie felt like she could spit bullets.  Never once had he mentioned her, and then there was the fact that she was closely interwoven into their lives not only by a child but also by Dmitry’s late wife.  Plus, it didn’t help that this bitch was so regally beautiful.  The combination made Arie sick to her stomach.  While this woman looked like something out of a Vogue magazine, she stood there in her shabby jeans and shirt, looking as though she should have been serving all of them instead of engaging in a conversation. 

Dmitry sat back in his chair. He really didn’t need this right before the press conference, but he would allow the conversation for a moment.  Besides, it was better that it take place here instead of there.  Plus, it wasn’t Ivan’s fault that Emma was here, so he had to forgive his brother’s temper somewhat. 

Ivan looked up at Arie.  “Have I ever asked you anything about your previous lovers before me? No!  Because I don’t give a shit.  I wouldn’t know if you had 15 fucking children back in that third-world shit hole that you came from. And really, would it matter?”

“And you see why we can’t resist his incredible charm,” Emma said, standing up.  “I’m going to freshen up, Dmitry. Have someone send for me when it’s time for the press conference.”  Without saying another word, she stepped away from the table and walked away. The sound of her heels against the marble echoed in the room.  And all three of the remaining parties watched her as she swayed out before Stepan closed the doors behind her. 

“She is staying here?” Ivan asked, turning to Dmitry.

“Yes,” Dmitry answered, rubbing his jaw. “She’s my guest.”

“For how long?” Ivan asked.

“For as long as she desires,” Dmitry said, standing up as well. “After all, she is family.”

“And when were you going to tell me about this?” Ivan said, eye twitching.

“When I asked you to my study,” Dmitry nodded at Arie.  “But like always, Ivan, you find a way to fuck up the smallest of tasks.  And yet you wonder why your leash gets tighter and shorter.”

“I’m not a dog, damn it.” Ivan stood up.  “Why would you let her stay here?  What? Do you have plans to fuck her?”

“Don’t push me,” Dmitry said, stopping in his tracks.

Ivan pointed toward the table. “You might have a say when it comes to thieves-in-law business, but this is not.  So, get rid of the fucking airs and tell me your intentions with her.  At least, be man enough to admit it.  You forget. I know you.”

“Why do his intentions toward her matter?” Arie snapped. “You’re married.”

Dmitry spun around.  “I know that you’re over reacting in front of your wife, which is an embarrassment to us all.  I know what I do with my cock has never been your business and Emma is only here to talk about business. I’m going to see what I can do to help her.”

Ivan gave a menacing smile.  “If I recall, we have permanent quarters here as well. Since my leash is so tight, I feel the need to stay close to home.  We’ll be staying here until she leaves.”

“You don’t trust me?” Dmitry wanted to laugh. If he wanted Emma, he would take her whether Ivan was here or not.

“Only as much as you trust me,
brat
,” Ivan sneered.

Dmitry could see the fire in Arie’s eyes.  He met her intense gaze with cool calm. 

Licking his lips, he raised his hand to her.  “Yet your wife stands here intact while you accuse me, and I have not taken her.  If I can control myself around someone as beautiful as Arie, I should be fine around plain and simple Emma.”  He knew before he could say it that the small compliment would incense Ivan further, but what did he care? He was tired of him acting like a spoiled brat. Plus, Arie was due some respect.  That interaction had to be hard on her. It was the least that he could do to help keep some of her self-esteem intact. 

“Fuck you, Dmitry. I’m not stupid,” Ivan said.  “The only reason that you haven’t gone after Arie is because you already know I’d kill you for it.”

Dmitry shrugged his shoulders.  “Right, because you haven’t tried to do that before and failed, right?” He turned on his heels and dismissed Ivan.  “I’m going to get ready for this event.  I would ask that you both change into something more appropriate.”

Arie looked down at her clothes again. “Why do I have to go?” she asked.

“You go where he goes,” Dmitry said as he walked to the door. “Now sit down and eat.  Breakfast is on the way.”

Chapter 4

In the Executive Suites of Hutton Industries, a crowd of reporters, officials, and workers gathered to listen to Dmitry’s major announcement.  Word had leaked through the various channels, but everyone wanted to hear Dmitry Medlov say it officially. 

All of his new board members had gathered in support of him, including Khalid, who wore a half-smile as he stood with the other men of the Vory v Zakone, who all knew the story of what had happened to his son.

Dmitry pulled at his tie – a habit that his public relations team had tried to break many times before and then bent to the microphone.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, voice booming across the small space.  Cameras flashed from around the perimeter, causing a stir of unease inside of him.  This would be a perfect time for an ambush, especially from Dorian. He only hoped that the security he had put in place would be enough.

He cleared his throat, realizing that his sudden thought had caused a literal pause.  Stilling his racing mind, he continued.

“Instead of issuing a press release as had previously been suggested, I felt it necessary to hold this press conference.  As many of you know, Hutton Industries had undergone one of the hardest times in its history.  We lost Catherine Hutton, the woman who helped build this organization to stand on the international stage as a monument of good businesses practices and global partnerships.  We lost nearly the entire board of directors due to a plane crash that created an international scandal at first and then was finally closed and labeled as a case of bad circumstance.  We restructured our business model to try to keep as many jobs as possible, especially those here in London and also abroad, but many of our investors chose to pull out and as a result our stocks have plummeted for four consecutive quarters.” 

Taking pause, he shook his head. “This has been a trying time for us.  It’s been a difficult time for me as I watched what my late wife worked so hard to grow suddenly diminish.  And,” he swallowed hard, “it’s because of her and her work and the many Hutton’s who came before her that Hutton Industries must, at this time, file for bankruptcy with the High Court of London.”

There was an audible gasp in the room, which surprised Dmitry, considering everyone knew what they were there for.  He only assumed that some in the room had believed the rumors to be false. 

He looked up just in time for one of local rags to snap a shot of him.  He clenched his jaw, reminding himself not to lose his cool.  These people had a job to do and there would be no news conference without him.  Still, he couldn’t help but detest them.

“What does this mean for Hutton? Well, it doesn’t mean that we’ll simply fade into the darkness. It doesn’t mean that our doors here in this fine building will be closed, it simply means that we will restructure into something smaller until long-term growth options become available,” Dmitry said, exhaling.  “I have with me the Chief Financial Officer and Chief Accounting Officer of Hutton to answer any additional questions that you might have and ask that you allow my statement to stand on this matter.  Any additional interviews will be handled by my public relations team, specifically my Chief Information Officer.  Thank you.”

As Dmitry moved out of the way to let the CIO, Peggy Burrows take over the news conference as discussed, reporters screamed out before he could exit.

“Where is your CEO?” one reporter demanded.  “Did she quit? Was she in an airplane accident as well?

Dmitry stopped in his tracks.  Darting his eyes over to the scruffy journalist holding his notepad tightly, pen ready to write, he snarled.

“Is it true that your entire board is now completely comprised of members of the Vory v Zakone?” another asked.

“Was the bombing of your skyscraper project in Milan part of a hit put on you by other factions of your mafia organization?” another screamed.

Peggy picked up on Dmitry’s agitation and spoke quickly. “I’ll be answering any additional questions during the Q&A portion of the press conference. Keep in mind that this is about Hutton Industries and not Mr. Medlov’s personal affairs,” she said, nodding toward the journalists.

Dmitry knew that he had to get out of there.  Moving toward the back of the small crowd behind him, he saw Davyd waiting with his arms folded across his large chest, nearly shielding Emma from sight.  “Come on, boy, let’s get you out of here before the vultures start to circle,” he said, moving one of the guards out of the way. “Make sure that the cars are ready to escort everyone out of here,” he ordered one of the men as Dmitry’s other guards moved people out of the way to get Dmitry out the back.

The press conference was basically over as soon as Dmitry finished talking.  The reporters and cameramen immediately started to try to move toward him as he attempted to exit.  They continued to call out at him with allegations and rumors. 

“Fuck off,” Ivan told one reporter before he shoved him out of the way, causing the man and his recorder to hit the marble floor and slide a few feet away from him.  Ivan grabbed Arie’s hand and pulled her toward the back with Dmitry. 

Another man trailing closely behind made sure to get the interaction on camera.  “Ivan, do you have any words for the people, any explanation for the true reasons behind Dmitry’s decision?” he asked, shoving the camera in Ivan’s face.

Ivan stopped and smiled then flipped the man the bird.  “Can you put on your news station, you fucking cunt?” he spat as he walked out with Dmitry and his men.

They rushed as fast as they could out to the cars without running.  Pushing past the cameras and the onlookers, they loaded into the cars and pulled out into the busy downtown streets of London.

Sitting in the back of one of the Land Rovers, Dmitry rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked out of the window. He could see reporters literally running beside the car, trying to get their last shots.

“Pathetic,” he said in disgust.

“You did fine,” Davyd assured.  “You did what you said you’d do. You didn’t duck and hide and send out a fucking piece of paper to tell people about them losing their jobs.  You told them what happened.  Why what was being done had to be done.”

Dmitry had to give it to the old man; he only saw the word in black and white, no gray. If only, he could do the same, things might not be so messed up for him.

Emma sat in silence beside him.  Clutching her purse and hiding under a large had and dark shades, she wiped a tear from her eyes.

Dmitry looked over at her and offered a quiet hand. Gratefully, she clenched it and tried to smile.  “Mom loved Hutton,” she said softly. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to bring it back, stronger than before Emma. I promise,” Dmitry said, feeling guilt overwhelm him.  He was certain that under Emma’s control the business would have done much better. She had spent years under her mother’s tutelage.  She would have done the right thing, while he was still trying to figure out what portfolio even consisted of.”

Emma pursed her lips as she tried to find the right words to soothe him.  “You did well, Dmitry,” she said sincerely.  “You did all that you could and you were a man about admitting your failures.”

Dmitry appreciated the words although they didn’t make him feel any better.

“Are you poor now?” Unable to help the question, she looked up at him with fear in her eyes.

Dmitry smirked. “No, I’m still a billionaire. Just a skinny one now.  In comparison to what we started out with, the money is shabby, but everything we had wasn’t tied up in Hutton.  I’ve been moving money since before Catherine got really sick.  We thought it best.  She had always feared that the board would try to sabotage everything once she was gone and she was right.  I’ve been investing in other things - technology, pharmaceuticals, precious stones, oil, even spirits.”

She exhaled a deep breath.  “Thank heavens.” A bit impressed, she smiled again.  “How were you able to keep it all quiet?”

“I opened a shell corporation,” he said, rubbing his eyebrow.  “I’m not all brawn.”

“No,” she shook her head at him.  “You’re all brains.”