"Well, well finally have something in common."
The limo stopped on the airstrip, and the driver opened the door.
"Mrs. Medlov," he said, offering his hand.
"Umm, I never get tired of hearing that name," Royal said, taking his hand and smiling.
"Good, because you're going to hear it for the rest of your life." Dmitry stepped out after her.
There was not one cloud in the sky. Spring had brought fresh clean air, warm weather and unexplainable beauty with it. Memphis was wonderful that way, always offering all four seasons in full. Royal would miss that.
As soon as the sun hit Royal's necklace, it lit up the airstrip. Dmitry smiled. No matter where she went for the rest of her days, he would make sure that her lifestyle reflected her name. She would live like a queen. He would see to it.
"Are you sure that you're ready to leave this all behind?" he asked, straightening his linen suit.
He stood beside her taller and more hauntingly beautiful than ever. His blonde hair brandished streaks of new grey. His eyes wore lines beside them where talons of life had clawed at his face in the middle of sleepless nights. But his heart was warm and content. The love he now possessed radiated past the physical and transformed him into something one could only admire.
"Everyone already thinks that I'm dead thanks to Cory and a broke coroner," Royal said as their bodyguards escorted them. "I might as well start a new life."
He stole a look at his wife. Strong. Beautiful. Resilient. She had stood by him until her end. She had endured the sins of his life with more dignity than even he could, and she had done so at her expense with no blame.
I owe you everything, he thought to himself. It was a recurring though lately. His existence was no longer complete without her.
He grabbed her hand and led her to their private jet.
This was the end of their stories apart and the beginning of their one life together. God only knew what was in store.
Dmitry had been by Royal's side the entire time of her recovery. Every time that she woke, he was there to take care of her—feed her, bathe her, dress her, read to her. Every need had been met. Every promise kept. He did so with little to no sleep. He barely ate. He never stopped worrying.
He paid the coroner, doctors, lawyers, police and the local judges millions to stay out of jail and out of court—to keep his secret of Royal's survival.
All that he cared for was her health. It had been his dedication that kept her and his blooming daughter alive.
And it had been New York and Moscow that had come in to help the transition go smoothly. He had their blessings and therefore their protection. Men came in droves from across the world. They replenished the ranks and worked faithfully under the Medlov Family's newest boss.
Upon her recovery, Dmitry and Royal were married in their home with only Cory and Anatoly to witness a quaint, private ceremony. She could never again call her adopted family or see Renée, but the trade was worth it. She wished them all well.
Royal had known no pain after that horrible night with Ivan and no greater pleasure than being married to a man who seemed to live to provide her complete happiness.
For weeks after Ivan's attack, Royal had been displaced. The transfusions, the pain pills and the nightmares had all overwhelmed her.
For weeks, she could feel Ivan's large hands on her body, his tongue in her mouth, his scent on her skin. She remembered the thrust of his hips and the cut of his blade. But with her healing, resolve had come. Ivan's death had been retribution for his crimes against her.
Royal looked up just in time to see Dmitry lean over and kiss her lips softly.
"Lets get the hell out of here, Mrs. Medlov."
She and her entourage boarded and relaxed as the stewardess seated them and prepared the passengers for takeoff.
Quietly, Dmitry sent Anatoly a text. It simply read, "From a father to a son, thank you."
Anatoly smiled as he read it. He sped through the streets of Memphis in his fathers old Mercedes-Benz with a new lease on life and a new woman in the passenger seat.
"Good Luck, Papa," he texted back. "I hope that you enjoy your new boring life cooking borscht and chasing brats."
Dmitry smiled and deleted the text.
"Everything okay, baby?" Royal asked, touching his arm.
"Everything is perfect, sweetheart," he said, grabbing the champagne off the tray.
Chapter 1
Royal screamed a blood curdling cry as Ivan held her down. His large hands were strategically placed on her naked, wounded body. Viciously, he choked her with one hand and fondled her with the other.
Spit spilled out of the side of her mouth onto his tattooed hands, and she could smell old cigarette residue on his rigid fingers.
She gasped for breath and tried to fight him, but he ignored her feeble attempts and violently snatched her legs open, scratching her inner thigh with his jagged nails.
His cold blue eyes stared directly into her own as he penetrated her. There was a look of complete satisfaction on his face as he did.
Exhausted and defeated, she turned her head to see the sharp, gleaming Glock knife beside her on the bed. The blade was so sharp until it snagged the comforter with its serrated edge due only to the friction. She swallowed hard as she looked at it, posing as a reminder to her of what he would do if she were not completely obedient.
Quickly, she said a prayer, mumbling the words
