Chapter 7:The Price of Power

The car door was opened by one of his men, revealing the outside of the airport. Dmitry nodded curtly, his mind still consumed with thoughts of Abeni. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing at that moment.

The questions swirled through his mind as he stepped out of the car and onto the tarmac.

He turned to one of his men. “Keep an eye on her discreetly,” he instructed, his voice low and commanding.

As his men disappeared into the crowd, Dmitry walked briskly towards his private jet. The thought of Abeni lingered in his mind, her delicate features, her smooth brown skin, her curves. He climbed aboard the plane, feeling a strange mixture of anticipation and longing.

The flight attendant, a young and ambitious woman, approached him with a knowing smile.

“Hello, Mr. Kuznetsov,” she purred. “Is there anything I can do for you?” Dmitry felt a flash of annoyance. He didn’t need her flirting now, not when all he could think about was Abeni.

He glared at her. “Yeah,” he growled. “You can get off this plane and never show your face around me again.” The woman’s smile faltered, and she hurried away, clearly embarrassed.

As the plane took off, Dmitry tried to focus on work, but his mind kept drifting back to Abeni.

Her fiery attitude, the way she tested him, the challenge she presented... He couldn’t help but feel a possessive desire to claim her as his own. It was as if she were a prize he had to win, a treasure he had to possess. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he wouldn’t be satisfied until she was his completely.

When the plane arrived in Italy, Dmitry was escorted off the plane by his men. He stood face to face with the head of the rival organization, a man by the name of Antonio Corleone.

“Buongiorno, signore Kuznetsov,” Antonio said, his Italian accent thick. “Welcome to our beautiful country.”

Dmitry nodded curtly, his eyes narrowed. “The pleasure is mine, Corleone. Let’s not waste any time, shall we?” They exchanged pleasantries for a few more moments before being led into the grand ballroom of the Corleone estate. The room was covered with marble floors, expensive chandeliers, and huge windows that overlooked the lush gardens outside.

As they took their seats at the wooden table, Dmitry could feel the tension in the air. He glanced around the room, noticing the bodyguards positioned strategically around them, and the way Antonio kept his hands carefully folded on the table.

It was then that he realized they were about to betray him. The anger rose within him like a tide, threatening to drown his reason. He forced himself to remain calm, to appear unphased. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, and fixed Antonio with a steely gaze.

“So, Corleone. I take it you have something you’d like to discuss?” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

Antonio smiled, but there was no humor in it. “We have been thinking, my friend,” he began, “and we believe it is in the best interests of both our organizations for you to invest in our casino venture.”

Dmitry’s expression remained impassive, but inside, his blood was boiling. He knew they were setting him up, and there was no way he was going to fall for it. “I see,” he said, slowly. “And what makes you think that I would trust you with such an investment?”

Antonio’s smile widened. “You misunderstand, my friend. This is not an investment in the traditional sense. We are not asking you for money. Rather, we are offering you a partnership.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “You see, we have discovered a way to rig the casino games in our favor. With your resources and expertise, we could make billions together. It’s an offer you can’t refuse.”

“No, Antonio,” Dmitry said, his voice cold and unyielding. “You called me to discuss a successful business venture not a failure waiting to happen. And as much as I respect your offer, I must decline. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more important matters to attend to.” He glanced around the room, his gaze flickering for a moment before fixing on Corleone’s right-hand man.

Corleone’s bodyguards tensed, their hands moving closer to their weapons. But Dmitry was already moving, his body flowing with grace. In a blur of motion, he pulled out his gun and pointed it at Corleone, his finger tightening on the trigger.

The room erupted into chaos as everyone scrambled for cover or drew their own weapons.

Antonio laughed “Oh, Dmitry, you fool!” he said, his voice a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “You really think you can take me down?”

Dmitry’s smirk only widened as he squeezed the trigger, the gun’s report echoing through the room. A split-second later, Antonio crumpled to the floor, blood spreading rapidly across his immaculate white shirt. The shock on Corleone’s men was palpable, their eyes wide with disbelief and horror.

But Dmitry didn’t have time to savor the victory. His men were already moving, engaging Corleone’s bodyguards in a fierce firefight. Bullets whizzed past his ears, shattering glass and sending plaster raining down from the ceiling.

Dmitrys' men successfully apprehended Antonio’s men, but as they were leading them out of the room, one of them made a desperate attempt to grab his gun. A brief struggle ensued, and before anyone could intervene, the man had pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed through the room, hitting Dmitry square in his arm. There was a moment of shocked silence as everyone registered what had just happened.

The man who had shot him cowered in fear, expecting the worst.

But Dmitry didn’t react as expected. He didn’t clutch his wounded arm or fall to the ground in pain. Instead, he turned slowly toward the man who had fired the gun, his expression unreadable. The man’s eyes widened in fear as he saw the gun still pointed at him. Dmitry took a deep breath and sighed softly before pulling the trigger.

The gunshot was deafening in the small room, and the man crumpled to the floor, blood pooling around him.

A silence filled the room as everyone processed what had just happened. Dmitry, seemingly unperturbed by the gunshot wound, calmly walked over to the body and knelt down beside it. He reached into the man’s pocket and retrieved the card he had stolen from him when he arrived. Without a word, he handed it to his injured subordinate.

“Take this card,” Dmitry said, handing over the grimy piece of plastic to his loyal subordinate. “Use it to book a nice hotel for all you guys to stay in.”

“Thank you boss,” the injured subordinate said with a grin. Dmitry patted him on the back before walking out of the room.

Outside, Dmitry’s driver and his right-hand man Andrei waited patiently by the luxury car.

The cool night air was a welcome relief from the tense atmosphere inside the restaurant. Dmitry stepped out, his expression unreadable.

He nodded curtly at Andrei, who quickly opened the back door for him. As Dmitry settled into the plush leather seat, he glanced down at his bloodied arm. A frown creased his brow.

“Where to, boss?” asked the driver, turning his head slightly to glance at Dmitry in the rear-view mirror.

Dmitry considered his options for a moment before responding. “Take me to the hotel.”

As the driver pulled away from the curb, Dmitry glanced out the window, taking in the familiar sights of the city. The cool night air swirled around him, carrying with it the scent of exhaust fumes and late-night revelry. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his mind still reeling from the events that had just unfolded.

His bloodied arm throbbed, the pain a constant reminder of the violence that had erupted tonight. Annoyance flared within him as he watched the blood trickle down his forearm, staining the sleeve of his expensive suit.

He reached over with his uninjured hand and carefully rolled up his sleeve, revealing the wound in all its gruesome glory.

“You know, you should really get that looked at,” Andrei said, his voice a mixture of concern and amusement.

Dmitry shot his right-hand man a look before turning away. “I’ll be fine,” he grunted, not meeting Andrei’s eyes. He stared out the window once more, lost in thought.

The journey to the hotel seemed to take longer than usual, and Dmitry couldn’t help but feel restless.

His mind kept drifting back to Abeni.

“What do I have tomorrow?” asked Dmitry, finally tearing his thoughts away from Abeni. Andrei rattled off the list of business meetings and the investment meeting he had scheduled for the next day. It was all information that Dmitry had already been briefed on, but he nodded along nonetheless.

“How’s the planning for the wedding coming along?”

Dmitry asked casually as he glanced at Andrei out of the corner of his eye. The other man smiled and shrugged modestly.

“She’s doing really well,” he replied, referring to his fiancée. “She’s been meeting with caterers and florists, going over dress designs and venue options. She’s really into it.”

Dmitry nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You should find someone too, boss. You can’t spend the rest of your life with just me,” Andrei added with a chuckle.

Dmitry’s gaze drifted back to the window, lost in thought. He couldn’t help but wonder what Abeni was doing right now. Was she safe? Was she thinking about him?

He hoped she was, but the reality of their situation weighed heavily on his mind. The violence that had erupted tonight couldn’t bode well for either of them. Despite his reservations, there was a small part of him that couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy as he thought about Andrei’s impending nuptials.

“I have someone in mind,” Dmitry replied, his voice distant.

The car pulled up to the hotel, and Dmitry stepped out, his movements a bit stiff. As he made his way into the hotel, Andrei followed close behind, their conversation trailing off as they entered the elevator. The ride up to their floor was silent, both men lost in thought. When they reached their floor, Andrei led the way down the hall to Dmitry’s room, his normally easy-going gait now more purposeful. He rapped on Dmitry’s door, then pushed it open and gestured for Dmitry to enter.

The room was big, tastefully decorated with dark wood and expensive furniture. A large king-sized bed dominated one wall, covered in white sheets and fluffy pillows. In one corner, there was a small sitting area with a sofa and a coffee table. Dmitry glanced around, taking in the familiar sights, before turning his attention to Andrei.

He turned to face Andrei, who had already dug out his phone and was dialing a number. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

“Getting us a nurse,” Andrei replied without looking up. “Your wound needs attention.”

A few moments later, there was a knock at the door, and Andrei answered it. A young woman in a white uniform entered the room, her stethoscope dangling from her neck. “I’ Nurse Karina,” she said, offering her hand to Andrei. “I understand you’ve been injured.

Dmitry felt a stinging sensation as the alcohol wipes cleansed his wound, but he gritted his teeth and bore it. The nurse, Karina, worked quickly and efficiently, dabbing at the wound with sterile gauze and applying a thick layer of ointment. She then wrapped it tightly with medical tape, making sure it was secure.

“That should do it,” she said, stepping back to examine her work. “You should be fine in a few days, as long as you keep it clean and dry.”

Dmitry nodded, still trying to catch his breath. The adrenaline from the fight was starting to wear off, leaving him feeling drained and sore. He sat down on the edge of the bed, grateful for the support.

“Goodnight boss,” Andrei said, already starting to move towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you then,” Dmitry replied, yawning widely. He climbed into bed, the soft mattress and crisp sheets inviting him into a deep, restful sleep. But try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about Abeni.

Her beautiful face, her soft skin. He rolled over, his heart racing as he imagined her in his arms, the way she felt against him. It had been such a brief encounter, but it had left him aching for more.