The Chronicles of Young Dmitry Medlov: Book One Read online

  It was because of his lack of knowledge that Khalid agreed after their long talk on coordinating a meeting between Dmitry and Smirnov and accepted the position on the board. He was a man of considerable wisdom and knew that without a doubt the young man before him would be a force to be reckoned with for many years ahead.

  By the end of the meeting, both men had exactly what they wanted. Pure power.

  In one day, Dmitry had eliminated his largest current threat and started an alliance that could provide what he needed to reposition himself and the Medlov family for the rest of its existence.

  There was nothing more important to him than the protection of his little brother and his team that was growing in number. He knew now that there was nothing that he would not do for them, and nothing that they would not do for him. Their covenant had been sealed, and he was in it for the long haul.

  As they parted, Dmitry and Khalid formed a pact to help each other. That was all Dmitry needed. The stars were aligning in his favor. And if he had anything to do with it, it would stay that way. Nothing would block him. If he had to kill half the world to get to his goal, he would do it. Nothing was sacred. No one was safe.

  Headed back to the Medlov manor as the sun set on the horizon, Dmitry sat in the back of the Bentley with Elsa and popped his first celebratory bottle of Cristal.

  “So, you have proven yourself,” he said, shaking his head.

  “I have,” she answered.

  “And are you still willing to connect me to your father?”

  “It has already been arranged. He is excited about meeting you and thanking you in any way possible.”

  “Good.” Dmitry’s eye twitched. “And are you ready to become what I need in the President of Hutton Industries?”

  “Everything that you need, want and more,” she answered.

  “To our future,” he said, toasting her.

  Elsa smiled back. “To our future,” she said, leaning in as she kissed him. His lips tasted like success. She lingered at his mouth, sure that he would ravage her well before they reached their destination.

  He grabbed her and pulled her to him. Sliding his cold hand under her skirt, he tore her lace underwear off. “You belong to no one now.”

  “Then finally, we are the same,” she whispered.

  The End

  Volume

  Four

  Prologue

  So much time had passed since Dmitry was a young man. Ages. Decades. Lifetimes even. He remembered the first time that he realized that he had finally become the master of his own fate. It had also been the first time that he truly felt invincible. After that day, he had felt invincible most days, and utterly numb most others.

  It was odd what dwelling on the top did to a man. He got so used to living above the clouds on a place called “nine” until when he was forced–only during occasional moments of realistic sobriety - to dwell down in the world with the rest of mankind, he felt like he was choking - suffocating even-from being too far below his station in life.

  Dmitry had known many men who lived on top of the world. In fact, the only way he had truly arrived at the top was to knock one particular man off his throne. That, however, was the type of clandestine narrative that kings never spoke of. It wasn’t proper to discuss the gritty business behind the image.

  It was Dmitry’s truest belief that one must topple an empire before he could rule it, unless he was born into it. And even then, there were certain old guards that must be moved, displaced and if really needed…annihilated.

  The Medlov family, specifically, was a family of men who were born hungry. All of his boys had dangerous ambition coursing through their veins, but his youngest seeds seemed not as concerned about ruling the world as his oldest son, Anatoly. The hungry gene had skipped the twins, but as he looked at his beautiful daughter, Anya, riding her award-winning horse through the countryside, bareback and full of life, hair flowing and form perfectly erect, he knew that she had gotten a double helping of everything good and hungry in him, including his raw ambition.

  She would be the one that the world would be forced to bow before. He only hoped to live long enough to witness it with his own eyes.

  Sipping on ginger tea and reading Hawthorne, Dmitry pulled the wool throw tighter around his broad shoulders and uncrossed his long, trouser-clad legs. Without intention, he pushed forward in his lawn chair when Anya passed below him as he sat on the elevated limestone patio.

  It was a perfect view.

  Green, plush, manicured grass was violently unearthed under the weight of the sturdy stallion that Anya rode violently, as if she was running from or toward something insurmountable. In sync with his master, the horse pushed mist from his flaring nostrils as the cold wind ripped through the peaceful setting and left everything frozen in time.

  Like a true spectator, Dmitry marveled at Anya as she passed him going full speed, unafraid and unstoppable. In black, leather riding boots, khaki-colored riding pants, a black turtle neck and hat, she commanded the powerful beast with ease. But it was her regal nature that seemed to captivate even the staff, who stood on the side of Dmitry quietly watching in awe as the little lady of the house made her daily ride.

  Looking at Anya, Dmitry believed that there would be few leaders that she would have to conquer against their will. Most would be happy to fall at her feet, and they would also be wise in their decision. She had grown into a cunning woman with traits of both her mother and father, but even worse…her long dead uncle, Ivan. Anya was as tough as nails, beautiful as diamonds and a true, blue predator dressed in sheep’s clothing.

  Barely looking her father’s way as she breezed past him, holding her reigns tightly in her leather gloves, Anya kept her gaze forward towards the golden, setting sun. And then as quickly as she was there in his presence, she disappeared over the hill and then down into the countryside, but not without leaving an impression on her doting father.

  Satisfied, Dmitry sat back in his chair once she was gone and began to sip his luke-warm tea again. Just a glimpse of Anya was all that he needed. She would be a ghost for the rest of the evening. Devoted to her studies, locked in her room, tending to her horses, rummaging through the study, there was always something for Anya to do.

  She never allowed herself to sit idly by. The only time that she was still was when she was reading or sleeping, and even then she was thinking, figuring things out, working out problems in her mind.

  Anya was so much unlike his other children but so much like him until it was amazing. She was thirsty for knowledge. She spoke as if she had been on the earth a hundred years, had a gaze that would imprison and destroy a man, and she had a mind that would capture and rule a country, if not the world.

  Sounded familiar.

  He guessed that it was fitting that she was now being courted by a prince.

  The boy wouldn’t have been his first choice, prince or not. He was far too prim and proper, interested in galas, yachts on the Riviera and such. The young man had no grit about him, but still he had stolen Anya’s heart.

  Dmitry could never understand the odd paring considering Anya had always been surrounded by alpha males who had been bred on grit. Dayvd, when she was younger, Gabriel, Anatoly, the council and others.

  He hoped whole heartedly that she was simply sick of such a man instead of thinking that her prince was one. Besides, it was one thing to clearly avoid a certain thing than to be fooled into thinking that one had something that he or she did not. He had never been in the business of delusions…just illusions and that was only for the outside world. The family was transparent.

  This prince, however, was not transparent, and that was what bothered Dmitry. He was a quiet man in love with his books and even at his age was still working under the auspice of peace, like such a thing really existed. Dmitry nearly chuckled at the thought. In a world like this one, the only peace that could be promised was what came in the afterlife.

  A prince, a man who would soon be king, should
be focused on more realistic goals like acquiring more wealth through trade and industry for his country and building up his military to protect his people.

  Introduced to the prince while home from college at Oxford, Anya had met the young soon-to-be king, at a private fundraiser at the Prague Castle in the Royal Garden. The boy had taken one look at Anya, under the dancing candlelight and full moon with her long black hair flowing in a white evening gown and her blue, icy eyes that sparkled like diamonds and fell head over hills in love.

  Dmitry had watched the entire thing from a far while talking to the boy’s father in what felt like slow motion. Royal had stopped him from interrupting the two by insisting that he “stay put”. It had been the hardest thing he had ever done, because he knew based upon the young man’s face when he saw his daughter that Anya would be his most serious pursuit.

  That had been a year and a half ago. Now, Dmitry was certain that as they prepared for Anya’s graduation, they would soon be preparing for the wedding of the century, full of scandal and heart ache for his most precious child. Still, he had to let her live her life. And he could think of no better title for his sweet little child than princess.

  The doors to the patio opened, and Royal emerged from the chateau like a breath of fresh air. Her black hair with streaks of silver was pulled into a tight bun, and she too wrapped herself in a plaid throw.

  Sitting beside him at the table, she gently smiled at him, revealing soft lines in her delicate face and looked out at the vast landscape.

  “Are you watching Anya ride again?” she asked, averting her gaze west to the sunset.

  “I have to steal a moment with her when I can, even if the moment is literally just a glimpse,” he said with a pout.

  Royal chuckled. “She’s a grown up now, Dmitry. You have to let her go. That’s part of being a father.”

  He protested with a snort. “No. She’s still angry at me for what I am. I know it. I can feel it,” he said with conviction.

  “Anya loves you. She always has,” Royal answered lovingly.

  “Of course, she loves me. I never have doubted that, but she is a woman now, an intelligent woman, and she judges me. She worries that my life and my sins will haunt her and her chance at happiness with Prince Bookworm.”

  “Anya has always known who you truly are, and she has loved you despite of it. She and I have spoken extensively about how our family might affect her relationship with Edward.”

  “His family might not let him propose, you know” Dmitry said with a growl. The thought of anyone thinking that they were better than his daughter made his blood boil.

  “You are the wealthiest and most powerful man in Prague and nearly six other European countries. You own businesses all over the world, and the government has never been able to pin so much as a parking ticket on you. Your transgressions will be overlooked. Plus, he’s not the Prince of Wales. Now, that might have been harder to pull off.”

  “I just don’t want my life and my choices to hurt my precious daughter.”

  “Trust me. It won’t. If anything, you’ll be given a title and position in parliament, begged to consult on matters of trade and touted as a man of industry.” She said so confidently as if the events had already taken place.

  Dmitry huffed at her response. Royal had always been far too optimistic for his taste. Besides, it all seemed ridiculous to him. “Why couldn’t she have fallen in love with a normal boy? I could have bought them a country.” The statement made him think of Angola. He frowned when he realized that his old memories still haunted him.

  Royal giggled. “Because Anya has never been a normal girl. Plus, her heart is her own, and she has given it to Edward in the same way that I gave my heart to you.”

  “I hope that she didn’t give him everything that comes with her heart, if so…I’ll have to put a hit out on a prince.” His eyes narrowed.

  Royal kept her daughter’s secrets and moved the conversation along as she always did.

  “We should invite the royal family to a private dinner again soon,” she suggested. “You like the king, and I like Elizabeth.”

  “Just another reason for you to plan a grand affair.” Dmitry knew a trap when he smelled one. The dinner had probably already been planned, and this was her way of telling him about it.

  “It’s what people do when their children reach this point in their relationship,” she said as she shrugged her shoulders at the thought of throwing another party. “And it’s what fathers do when they prepare to give their daughters away.” Her eyes met his and for the first time Dmitry was absolutely sure that the engagement would be very, very soon.

  Anya always told her mother things that she chose to keep away from him, just as he kept his boys’ secrets. Only Demi, their youngest, told them both everything or nothing. It was too early to know.

  For some reason Royal’s words sent him back in time, and all that he could think of was another time in his life when the same thing applied to his own life. Only, his thoughts were full of wicked memories.

  Frowning, he swallowed hard and reached over for his wife. “Come and sit on my lap, I want to tell you story,” he said, extending his hand. He wiggled his long fingers at her, catching the sun’s reflection in the gold band.

  Royal came to him quietly with a smile on her face. Like a child, she slipped into his large embrace and looked into his vast, blue eyes.

  “Did I ever tell you how I met my father?” he asked.

  “Dmitry, now you know I would have never forgotten if you had told me something like that,” she said in a whisper. Her hand found its way to his grayish blonde tendrils. It was amazing to her that even after so many years, she still admired every inch of him.

  And Dmitry felt the exact same about her. She had only grown more beautiful over the years. Her taste had become more refined and her grace and wisdom followed.

  Amazingly, his young Royal had become a queen, right before his eyes. And he had never stopped doting over her in all their years together. His gifts had only grown more extravagant, his kisses deeper, their passionate love making longer. And even as an older man now, he still felt like a lion because of her. She had chosen to make him feel powerful even though she had all the tools to humble him, humiliate him if she wanted.

  But Royal was in the business of uplifting others and her desire to make everyone happy had led to a blissful family.

  Dmitry had been undeservingly lucky.

  Royal had noticed that as Dmitry grew older, he also seemed to share the most frightful tales with her, and what astonished her even more than his terrible truths was how much she inwardly enjoyed to listen to them, but it was only because every story ended in triumph. She knew that he didn’t exaggerate his stories. He was far too honest for that. It was just in him to overcome. Some people were like that. Despite the obstacle, they found a way to get over it, to prevail in spite of…

  “Go on then,” she said, getting comfortable for another one of his long, amazing tales. “Tell me how you came to meet the man who made you.”

  Dmitry gave a troubled grin and corrected his wife. “Not just made me, but made me what I am,” he said with a raised brow.

  Chapter One

  1993

  Czech Republic

  Prague was a place of golden statues and timeless clocks, of cobblestone streets and romantic streetlights, of thick fog and castles that made Dmitry’s manor back on the hillsides of England look like an ambitious doll house.

  He marveled at the city’s beauty from the back of the car that escorted him to his hotel. Never in his life had he seen such opulence outside of St. Petersburg, Russia. And until this very moment, he would have sworn that no city could rival it.

  Dmitry had visited St. Petersburg last year with Catherine, and it had been quite an experience for him. It was the first time in his life that he had been to the city, and he had honestly been floored by its timeless beauty.

  For once, there he was not the odd man out like wit
h other trips across the world, because he actually spoke the language. And the manner in which he was treated, as near royalty, was completely different from how he was treated during his last time in Russia when he was just a rogue errand boy with a mismatch group of misfits.

  Before then, even though Dmitry had lived in Russia his entire life, he had had no idea that St. Petersburg used to be the capital of Russia.

  Catherine had spent a great deal of time taking him around to the museums and historic sites. And she had practically given him a private tour of the Hermitage, a place he found out she visited frequently when in the city. In fact, the curator knew her personally and had informed Dmitry that the Hutton’s were extremely generous contributors right before she insisted that he continue with the customary annual gift now that he was the head of the family. However, when he found out how much the customary gift was, he was floored again. The Hutton’s had given more money per year to that museum than he had made in his entire life.