The Power Trip Page 4

When she confronted him about his indiscretions, he’d sneered at her. ‘What am I supposed to do?’ he’d said with cold indifference. ‘Fucking you is like fucking a dead fish.’

  Sierra knew she should leave, but Hammond’s threats were all too real, and she simply couldn’t summon the courage to get out. What if he went through with them and actually harmed her family? She knew without a doubt that he was capable of anything.

  So Sierra stayed and threw herself into helping people. She visited children’s hospitals, formed a rape prevention group, rallied for battered women, and did everything she could to take her mind off her miserable life at home.

  Hammond was pleased. He’d been right about Sierra, she was the perfect politician’s wife. A beautiful and gracious woman who was also a do-gooder.

  What could be better for a man on his way to the top?

  Chapter Seven

  Bianca reached for a towel, wrapping it around her smooth gleaming body as she moved closer to Aleksandr.

  He seized a corner of the towel and roughly pulled it away from her. The towel fluttered to the ground.

  ‘You are so beautiful,’ he said, his voice a throaty growl as he began rubbing his thick fingers against her extended nipples. ‘Such a fine woman, and all mine.’

  Bianca experienced a shiver of delight and responded accordingly. Whenever Aleksandr wanted her, she was ready.

  Early on in their relationship she’d learned from Aleksandr that his wife was a sexually cold woman who’d informed him shortly after they were married that his very touch repulsed her.

  Apparently his money hadn’t.

  Bianca didn’t care that he was so enormously rich. She genuinely cared about the man, and the way he was able to turn her on with nothing more than a glance. His dark eyes were deeper than a glacier, she could never tell what he was thinking. His touch was strong and manly. As for his equipment – perfection. Long and thick and solid, the best she’d ever experienced. Plus he knew what to do with it – a true bonus after a series of famous men who considered erectile dysfunction totally normal.

  Aleksandr pushed her to the ground and dropped his pants. He never wore underwear, something they had in common.

  The cold tile against her skin made her shiver even more as she spread her long legs for her lover. Glancing up, she noticed the red light on the security camera and wondered if they were being watched or filmed.

  It didn’t matter. Aleksandr controlled everything; he would never allow anyone to use her or anything bad to happen.

  His solid body crushed her beneath him as he entered her. He was a big man, big and powerful. She took a deep breath, inhaling his overpowering masculine scent.

  ‘Oh . . . my . . . God . . .’ she murmured. ‘You feel so amazing, so damn hard . . .’

  ‘Only for you, my little Kotik. Only for you.’

  ‘Yes,’ she sighed, shifting her body to accommodate him. ‘You know, Aleksandr, you’re the only man who has ever truly satisfied me.’

  He was heavy on top of her. She didn’t care, the sex was that exciting. She got off on the way he thrust himself inside her as if he was determined to own her.

  Nobody had ever owned Bianca. She was a free spirit. Yet with Aleksandr she had no desire to be free. She yearned for him to possess her in every way, and possess her he did with his strong arms, full body weight and hard penis.

  At the beginning of their relationship she’d tried to assert herself in the bedroom. Aleksandr was having none of it. He expected total control. Sex would take place his way or not at all.

  Bianca was cool with that. She was so used to calling the shots with men, it made a refreshing change to allow someone else to be in charge.

  Groaning with pleasure, she flexed her thigh muscles, causing Aleksandr to grunt his appreciation.

  He made her feel like a little girl, a naughty little girl. It turned her on in a big way.

  Chapter Eight

  Sometimes Taye Sherwin’s mind wandered, especially when Ashley was in one of her haughty moods – a personality trait that seemed to emerge every time they had dinner with Jeromy Milton-Gold. It pained Taye to watch his wife try so hard to act as if she’d been born in Mayfair as opposed to the modest seaside city of Brighton. Ashley tried desperately to shrug off her roots, even though everyone knew she was not to the manor born. On the other hand, Taye was proud of where he came from: the Elephant and Castle. He’d done well for himself, and was happy to tell anyone and everyone about his not-so-fancy beginnings.

  Taye had no clue where Jeromy Milton-Gold had originally sprung from, but he was well aware that the man was not averse to dropping names and carrying on as if he was the King of the Castle. Or Queen. Yeah, Taye thought with a wicked grin. Shouldn’t that be Queen?

  ‘What are you smirking at?’ Ashley asked, catching him mid-smirk.

  ‘Just thinkin’ about a joke one of the lads came up with today,’ Taye said, quick as a flash.

  ‘Do share,’ Jeromy said, tapping the side of his wine glass with long elegant fingers.

  ‘You wouldn’t find it funny,’ Taye retorted, wishing they could get the hell out of the pretentious restaurant and head for home where he planned on showing his wife the coveted invitation before banging her brains out. Man, he was feeling so-o-o-o randy.

  ‘I can’t stand jokes,’ Ashley said with a slight sniff of distaste. ‘They’re always so sexist and never funny.’

  ‘I must say I’m forced to agree with you,’ Jeromy drawled. ‘Un-amusing, and yet some people feel as if they’re obliged to laugh.’

  ‘I think people only tell jokes when they run out of conversation,’ Ashley snapped, shooting Taye a mean look. ‘It’s as if they have nothing else to say.’

  ‘That’ll never happen to you, toots,’ Taye retorted. ‘You’re a world-class gossip.’ He nudged Jeromy. ‘Never off the phone, this one. Always got a girl chat-chat goin’ on.’

  Jeromy curled his lip, a habit he’d developed when he wasn’t quite sure what to say.

  Ashley glared at her husband.

  ‘Luca and I are going on a simply marvellous trip,’ Jeromy said at last, filling the sudden silence.

  ‘That’s nice,’ Ashley said, taking out her compact and applying more lipstick. ‘Where to?’

  ‘Somewhere hot and exotic, I suspect,’ Jeromy said with an airy wave of his hand. ‘We’ve been invited by Aleksandr Kasianenko on the maiden voyage of his new yacht.’

  Ashley’s eyes widened. ‘How fabulous,’ she sighed. ‘Lucky you.’

  Taye was speechless. Dammit, Jeromy was messing with his surprise. What was he supposed to do now? Blurt out that they were invited too, and risk a tongue-lashing from Ashley, who’d be livid that he hadn’t told her.

  ‘I can certainly use the break,’ Jeromy said with a patronizing smile. ‘I’m expecting that you’ll keep an eye on things in the London showroom, won’t you, dear?’

  Ashley bobbed her head and turned to her husband. ‘You know Aleksandr whatever his name is, don’t you?’

  Taye nodded. ‘Yeah, we met a couple of times. He’s a big football fan. There’s a rumour goin’ around that he’s thinkin’ of buyin’ one of the clubs.’

  ‘Bianca is a dear friend of Luca’s,’ Jeromy allowed, once more sipping his wine. ‘They met years ago at a fashion show in Milan. Luca was singing for a paltry million euro, and Bianca was busy strutting her stuff. They have a history.’

  ‘Nice,’ Ashley said wistfully. ‘I bet it’ll be a fab trip.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jeromy agreed. ‘I am sure it will be.’

  * * *

  The couple left the restaurant and drove home in silence – an uncomfortable silence, finally broken by Taye who couldn’t stand it when Ashley slipped into one of her moods.

  ‘What’s up, toots?’ he said, one hand on the steering wheel, the other patting her on the knee. ‘You’ve gone all broody on me.’

  ‘Why do you always try to put me down in front of Jeromy?’ she complained, her che
eks flaming. ‘I’m in business with the man, and you do your best to make me look like a fool.’

  ‘What’re you talkin’ about?’

  ‘You know full well.’ And then, attempting to imitate him, she added in a mock-up of his voice – ‘“This one’s always on the phone gossiping”.’

  ‘I’m not makin’ it up,’ Taye said, withdrawing his hand from her knee. ‘You are always on the blower, carrying on to your mates about this an’ that.’

  ‘I am so not,’ she said in an uptight voice. ‘I do not gossip. And even if I did – that’s no reason for you to announce it to the world.’

  ‘C’mon, toots,’ he pleaded. ‘Let’s not make this into a fight.’

  ‘No. You come on, Taye,’ she said crossly. ‘I hate it when you disrespect me. It’s not right.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sunshine,’ Taye said, anxious to placate her. ‘Look – I’ve got a big surprise waitin’ for you when we get home.’

  ‘I’m not interested in surprises,’ she said, staring out of the window.

  ‘You will be in this one,’ Taye assured her.

  ‘You’re so annoying,’ she said irritably. ‘Why do you always have to try and change the subject?’

  ‘’Cause I love you, toots, you know that. An’ I can’t stand seein’ you upset.’

  Ashley seized the opportunity to say something that was always lurking in the back of her mind. ‘I suppose you really loved me when you were having sex with that big-titted slag,’ she spat, her voice filled with venom.

  ‘Ashley,’ he said, groaning. ‘That was years ago. How many times do I have to say I’m sorry? That girl meant nothin’ to me. I’ve told you a million times.’

  ‘A million times isn’t enough,’ Ashley muttered, still holding onto a major grudge. ‘How would you like it if that had been me in bed with some bloke? How would that grab you?’

  ‘You wouldn’t do it. Anyway, I trust you.’

  ‘Yes,’ she snorted. ‘And I trusted you, and look where that got me.’

  How had their conversation veered so off-track? Every so often, Ashley brought up the one time he’d been unfaithful, but why was she doing it tonight?

  Best to stay silent and let her vent.

  Which she did.

  Non-stop.

  All the way home to Hampstead.

  Chapter Nine

  Flynn Hudson had a few things to take care of, two or three hard-hitting pieces to write, several follow-up calls, and a decision to make.

  Aleksandr Kasianenko – an old friend from back in the day – had invited him on what seemed like it might be a spectacular trip. He’d been invited with a guest, and therein lay the problem. Who to bring with him? And even more importantly – did he want to bring anyone at all?

  Certainly not one of his casual girlfriends who were available for light relief and nothing else, which was one thing he always made clear up front before he slept with them. Flynn did not care to have any broken hearts on his conscience. He knew what a broken heart felt like only too well. He’d experienced the pain, abandonment and downright misery that came with heartbreak, albeit a long time ago, but the feeling of loss had never really left him.

  Yes. True heartbreak existed. And Flynn knew all about it, so he was always careful to warn women that if they were after anything more than a casual fling, he was not the man for them.

  As he thought about who to take, one name came to mind – Xuan – an exquisite Asian, who was quite beautiful, strong-minded and conveniently more into women than men.

  Xuan would definitely get a kick out of such a trip, and he would enjoy her company – he always did.

  Xuan was a fellow journalist who’d escaped from a Communist regime when her parents were accused of being spies, then taken away and brutally murdered for their supposed crimes.

  Xuan had arranged to get herself smuggled out of Communist China eleven years previously, and like Flynn, her special talent was writing about the injustices in a world gone crazy. They’d bumped into each other over the years in many different countries, and formed a close non-sexual friendship, a friendship which suited both of them.

  Flynn knew many of her stories, how she’d been gang-raped on her way out of China, then rescued by a man who’d kept her locked up and beaten. After a devastating miscarriage, she’d made another daring escape, going months with hardly any food – begging for sustenance along the way – until eventually she’d reached Hong Kong where she’d been taken in by distant relatives.

  The difficulties of trying to make a life for herself had not been easy. But Xuan was strong: she’d prevailed and finally forged a career for herself as a fearless journalist.

  After mulling it over, Flynn sent her a text inviting her. Together, exploring the extraordinary lifestyles of the rich and overly privileged could be an extremely memorable experience, one from which they might both benefit.

  Or not.

  It didn’t matter. At least it would be a welcome change from the horrors of the world they’d both seen up close.

  Flynn waited for Xuan to respond. He hoped it would be a resounding yes.

  * * *

  In a small hotel room in Saigon, Xuan and her sometime lover, Deshi, lay on the bed fully sated, a ceiling fan whirling noisily above them. The sex had been satisfying, although not mind-blowing by any means. However, Xuan found Deshi to be an intelligent man with – even more important – interesting tidbits of information about government activity that he let slip her way. Conveniently, Deshi happened to work for the government.

  Sexually Xuan preferred women, although when the occasion called for it she was not averse to bedding down with a man. Information was information, and Xuan gathered it any way she could.

  Her cell phone bleeped, indicating a text. She leaned across Deshi to reach it, her small breasts grazing his chest.

  Deshi took this as an indication that maybe there was more sex in his future. To his disappointment it was not to be.

  Xuan read Flynn’s message. She was pleased to hear from her friend. Of all the knowledgeable and attractive men she knew, Flynn was number one. A solid guy with admirable values and an adventurous spirit.

  The first time they’d run into each other, she’d told him she was bi-sexual, leaning towards the female sex. She was determined there would be no sexual tension messing up a friendship that she’d sensed could be quite precious. She was right. Sex had never interfered with their close relationship.

  Now Flynn was inviting her on a trip.

  How nice.

  With rich people. Insanely rich people, because she knew who Aleksandr Kasianenko was. Everyone knew who Aleksandr Kasianenko was – the Russian billionaire steel magnate with the famous super-model girlfriend, Bianca.

  How intriguing.

  To go or not to go? She would have to think about it.

  ‘Anything important?’ Deshi enquired.

  ‘Nothing that cannot wait until later,’ Xuan said.

  In a few hours she would respond. It was not something she felt obliged to make an instant decision about.

  Chapter Ten

  Cliff Baxter happened to be a much-loved movie star. He had his faults, but overall he was the consummate professional, very aware of the people who worked on his movies, always making sure they were well taken care of. He considered his stand-in, Bonar, a loyal friend – they’d worked together for a solid twenty-five years, ever since Cliff’s first big break in the 1987 movie Fast Times on the Fast Track, a film about a marathon runner and his dysfunctional family.

  Cliff had hit pay dirt on that one. At the time he was young, virile and hot – very hot. Plus he could really act. The director had liked him and pushed him to do some great work. To his delight and surprise he’d gotten his first Oscar nomination. He hadn’t won, but what else was new?

  He’d been nominated three times since then, only won once. Better than not winning at all.

  Bonar was his stand-in on Fast Times on the Fast Track, and they’d rem
ained close ever since. They were the same age, both creeping close to fifty. Only Bonar had a wife and three kids, while all Cliff had was an amazing career.

  He didn’t mind. He had no desire to be trapped in an institution called marriage, a soulless place from which there was no escape unless you were prepared to part with half of your hard-earned assets.

  Cliff liked knowing that basically he was a free man who could go wherever he wanted, do anything he cared to do, and that there was no one around to stop him. Only his agent and his manager could tell him what to do, and usually he didn’t listen.

  Cliff considered most of his male friends totally pussy-whipped, or if not whipped, then miserable divorced fathers paying alimony and only getting to see their kids every other weekend.

  He was well aware that they all envied him. They should envy him. In their eyes, he was the one living the life.

  Over the years he’d had a series of live-in girlfriends, and he’d learned exactly when it was time to move them out. There was always that moment in time when they started becoming overly clingy and needy – he knew the signs only too well. Suddenly they started talking marriage, and marriage was strictly not on his agenda. It never had been.

  So far, Lori had lasted longer than the others. She was a fun girl and he was quite fond of her. Plus she gave the best head ever. He often thought that she must’ve studied at the famed ‘Academy of Deep Throat’ – if there was such a place. And if there wasn’t, there should be.

  The truth was, he couldn’t get enough of Lori’s expert oral skills.

  Usually he counted on professionals to do the things his girlfriends baulked at, but since Lori, the midnight call-girl visits were getting fewer and fewer, and Internet porn failed to grab him.

  Lori, it seemed, was up for anything.

  * * *

  Lori had a thing about running, and not through the staid streets of Beverly Hills. No, she liked exploring the hills, finding a hiking trail, and hitting it hard.

  There were no paparazzi where she went. No spying eyes with cameras affixed to them.