Page 82 of Ascendent
“You might want to send an extra task force of FSB and military to a camp that has sprung up outside Bratsk. I’m sure you’ll find the people there interesting. And what they’re up to.”
“It is going to be a pleasure doing business with you, Oleg.”
“Believe me, Mr. President. The pleasure is all mine.”
The line cut.
Sergey exhaled. Something tapped against the desktop. His pen, trembling in his hands. He pressed his palms over the draft letter to the IMF.I regret to inform you the Russian Federation is unable to honor our debts.
He ripped the letter in half, and then again, shredding it to pieces.
Not today.
Sergey grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and headed out. He dialed Ilya on the way. “Ilya, I’m coming to see you. Put a team together for a mission. I know where Moroshkin’s men are hiding.”
* * *
Oleg,never one to miss an opportunity to show off, arrived with Svetlana Schevchenko on his arm, sporting a décolletage of ice diamonds that cascaded into her ample cleavage for what seemed like miles, and two bottles of Dom Perignon Rosè. He’d even remembered that Sergey preferred whiskey. A bottle of forty-year old Glenfiddich came out as he and Sergey reviewed the contracts, the transference of Oleg’s billions for the majority shares to RusCom, Russia’s number one broadcasting network.
Oleg poured Sergey’s drink as he signed. “To a free media.”
Sergey clinked his glass against Oleg’s. “To a free future for Russia.”
Svetlana perched in the corner of Sergey’s office, looking beautifully bored. “Do you have someone you want to invite?” Oleg asked. “Let us drink together. Celebrate!”
He slid out his phone, texted Sasha.Are you free?
[ Waiting at home for you. ]
Come to my office? We’re celebrating.
Ten minutes later, Sasha arrived, freshly showered, dressed in that blue sweater that did illegal things to his body. He welcomed Sasha with a hug and poured him a glass of champagne, pulled him a seat at their table. Svetlana wandered over, intrigued at the newcomer, it seemed.
For two hours, Sergey boasted of Sasha’s future NASA exploits, his status as Russia’s sole astronaut, his heroism during the coup, the insurgency. Oleg listened attentively, picking apart reality versus the movie and laughing along with Sergey at the film’s ridiculousness. “You were the best part, darling.” Oleg held Svetlana’s hand gently, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. She beamed at him.
Oh, how he longed to hold Sasha’s hand, reach across the table and lace their fingers together. He was just tipsy enough to contemplate it, and Sasha had that burning look to his eyes.
“Shall we continue this?” Oleg rose, his cheeks rosy, eyes bright. “I own several nightclubs here in Moscow. Shall we go? This is a night to celebrate,da?”
“Not tonight. Another time?” Sergey stared into Sasha’s eyes. “Mr. Ostrovsky.” He stood and held out his hand. “I am delighted to be working with you. Thank you for accepting this offer.”
Oleg held on a little too long, let his eyes linger on Sergey’s before sliding to Sasha. “It is my pleasure, President Puchkov.”
He shook Sasha’s hand, grinning. “What a delight to meet the real hero of the insurgency!” He winked at Svetlana. “You’re the more beautiful hero, darling.”
Svetlana purred and blew Oleg a kiss. She pressed her painted lips to Sergey’s cheek, a dainty crimson kiss, and then to Sasha’s.
“Congratulations Mr. President. You’re going to be the man who saved Russia,” Oleg said as he took Svetlana’s hand on his elbow.
“There’s still lots of work to do.”
“I will be in touch, Mr. President.” Oleg waved, and he and Svetlana disappeared out the door in a puff of perfume and diamonds and fur.
Sasha’s eyes met his.
They were across his office in a moment, Sasha pressing him back against his desk, shoving his jacket down, tugging on his tie. Sergey’s hands rode up under Sasha’s sweater, palms covering his skin. One hand pressed over the healing bear tattoo. Their lips locked, tongues tangling, kissing like they never wanted to stop.
Sasha pulled away first, his big hands wrapping around Sergey’s hips. He pressed his forehead to Sergey’s, breathed hard. “If we keep going, I won’t be able to stop.”
