Perspective (An Exposure Series Novella): Exposure Series Book Four (4 page)

A
sher was coming
home from work late, and I was waiting anxiously for him. In the heat of the moment, when my mom was over for dinner, I had forgotten to tell her the most important thing – that Sophie was “carrying” Asher’s child. I wanted to tell my mother the truth, that Asher wasn’t really the father of her baby, but a visit from Viktor Kazakov earlier in the day silenced me on that.

He appeared right when I got into the apartment in the morning. I had spent the night at the old place, because Scarlett and I stayed up and talked long into the night, and our talk went on until dawn. We got a lot of things cleared up, and I was feeling better. Then, in the morning, Scarlett went to work and I went to my new place with Asher. I had taken the week off of work so that I could get settled in, and I was really happy that my new job allowed this.

I got home, and started to put my clothes in my new, enormous closet, marveling that the closet was the size of my bedroom at home. Maybe even a bit bigger. Then I got on the phone to call the movers. While I was on the phone, I walked into the living room and saw a tall, and extremely handsome, man.

I could feel my eyes getting wide, and my hand was shaking as I watched him. He was well-dressed, with sandy blonde hair and green eyes. He was as tall as Asher. He just stood there in the living room, looking around. He picked up various items, such as vases and knick-knacks, and looked at them while I talked to the moving people.

I finally got off the phone and I approached him. “Hello,” I said. “May I help you?” I probably shouldn’t have led with that. A better question would be
what the hell are you doing here?
But I decided that a little decorum was in order with this man.

He nodded his head slightly. “Hello,” he said. “Are you CJ Parker?”

“CJ Sloane,” I corrected him. It still felt weird, extremely weird, to say that my last name was “Sloane.” “May I help you?”

“CJ Sloane. Forgive me. My mistake.”

The two of us just stood there in the living room, looking at one another. He seemed to be examining me, almost. “I’m Viktor Kazakov,” he finally said to me.

That’s when I almost understood why he was there in Asher’s apartment. “Oh. Hello.” I kept my distance, very nervous to make even a step closer to him. I was frightened, to be sure, because he was a strange man who just let himself in without even asking permission. I didn’t know what he wanted with me, but I had an idea.

“Are you going to show some hospitality?” he asked me. “I could certainly use a stiff scotch.”

I blinked and nervously asked him how he took his scotch.

“Neat,” he said. “You know what that means, do you not?” I noticed that he didn’t have much of an accent, although there were certain words that sounded not quite American English. And his cadence was ever-so-slightly off.

I nodded my head. “I think so,” I said, as I got out Asher’s martini shaker and put some ice into it with some scotch.

He shook his head. “No, that is not neat.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I guess I don’t really know what neat means.”

“Pour the liquor straight, without ice,” he said. He didn’t seem to be perturbed, but, rather, seemed to be patient and genuinely helpful.

“Sorry,” I said.

“Do not be sorry. You apparently are not a bar keep.” At that, he smiled.

I nodded my head and poured the scotch into a glass without ice.

“That other scotch, that you put into that shaker. You must drink that. You cannot waste good scotch like that.”

I poured that scotch into a glass and set it aside. “I can’t drink,” I said. “I’m pregnant.”

He laughed. “Americans. My country was founded on vodka. Women drink it, pregnant or not pregnant. You would think that we would have a country of idiots, but we don’t. Some of the most glorious art, literature, music and dance has come out of my country, not to mention scientists. Do you think that Dostoyevsky’s mother was a teetotaler?”

I had to admit that he had a point, and I tentatively took a sip of the scotch. It was smooth and warm and surprisingly delicious. I never thought that I would like whiskey, because it always made me gag, but this stuff was high-dollar and it tasted like it.

I sat down on the chair. He was already on the couch, one of his long legs crossed over the other at the knee, his arms splayed out on the back of the couch. I watched his wordlessly, too nervous to speak. What did this man want with me? Was he there to kill me? Did Sophie send him over to rough me up?

Then I thought very nervously that maybe he was there to hurt me. To make me lose my baby. That would be Sophie’s great revenge. I protectively put my hand over my abdomen. I didn’t drink anymore scotch after that sip, because I was still thinking that alcohol was going to hurt the baby, no matter what this dapper and elegant man said.

He regarded me warily. “This is a very nice place,” he said. “Alexei has done very well for himself. But I am sure that you knew that. Everyone in America knows that. His name is on everyone’s lips, as they say.” Then he smiled, and sipped his scotch some more.

“Yes,” I said, feeling weird. “His name is on everyone’s lips.” I took a deep breath, waiting for him to say what he was there for, but he was silent for awhile.

He nodded his head. “Very nice place.”

I finally took another deep breath and decided to take the bull by the horns. “Mr. Kazakov, I’m so sorry, but why are you here? And how did you get in here? I’m sure I locked the door when I came in.”

He chuckled a little. “Do you not know that Sophie has a key to this place? Alexei gave her a key when they were together many years ago. He never changed the locks afterwards, either, which is….odd. I would think that he would be much more careful about such things, considering his background, but I guess he truly feels that he is safe.”

“Is he not safe?”

“Is anybody ever truly safe?” he asked, and, for the first time, I truly began to feel threatened. I put my hand over my abdomen again reflexively. There wasn’t anything there yet, of course – no kicking or fluttering or any of that. It was way too early, yet I was feeling extremely maternal.

He shook his head. “I am sorry, I am…intimidating you. I do not mean to be. I really should tell you why I am here and leave it at that.”

“Yes. You probably should tell me why you are here.”

“I am here because I need for you to know that you cannot tell anybody about the truth about Sophie’s child. I know that you had dinner with your mother and sister last night, and I know that you did not tell them anything about Sophie’s child. I was surprised about that.”

It all became clear to me. Apparently my apartment was bugged. Why neither Asher nor I had thought of that angle, I didn’t know. Asher was usually so thorough about such things, but he apparently wasn’t thinking straight. What we did know was that our place was swept for bugs. Asher was going to have to do that again after this visit. Not to mention change the locks.

“You’re right. My mother was upset with me, and I just forgot about telling her. And if I would have said something to her, she would have blown a gasket.”

“You are lucky that you did not say anything to her. If you would have, I have a feeling you would have told her the truth. And if you did….” He sliced his hand across his throat.

My heart sunk. I was counting on the fact that I might be able to at least tell my mother the truth about the baby. She was going to freak out all over again when I told her about Sophie’s baby. And I was going to have to tell her, of course. Not telling her wasn’t exactly feasible. She was bound to find out.

“I understand,” I said.

“Good. So, I assume that you are going to tell your mother and your sister about Sophie’s child, no?”

“Yes. And I….” I couldn’t say the words. I imagined my mother’s face when I told her that Asher was about to have a child with another woman. She was having a hard enough time trying to wrap her head around the fact that I was “married to the mob.” To tell her that Asher was going to have a baby with another woman was going to send her outer limits. To say the very least.

“Thank you. I am very sorry that this is going to cause problems. But if anybody ever found out that Sophie’s child is mine…Oksana’s father will have everyone’s head, as they say.”

I nodded, and he finally got up off the couch. “Well, I must be leaving. Thank you for the scotch.” Then he smiled and winked. “And now you know how to make a neat scotch.”

“Yes, I’m sure it will come in handy.”

At that, he left.

A
fter he left
, I paced the floor. I had to keep my emotions in check while he was there, but, after he left, I felt the ice-cold fear that I should have been feeling during his visit. I wanted Asher to come home, but I knew that he was working late, trying to repair the damage that was done when the news story came out in the paper. I couldn’t very well call him while he was immersed in what he was doing. I knew that he was stressed out, between dealing with the fallout of the revelations while trying to get Natalia assimilated in the corporation. I didn’t want to pile on, so I didn’t call him.

He finally made it home around midnight, and I went over to him and threw my arms around him. I held onto him tightly, so tightly that I was afraid I was going to choke him. But I couldn’t help it. I needed to feel his touch. I needed him to hold me and tell me it was all going to be okay.

He laughed lightly. “What’s going on? You’re acting like you haven’t seen me in years.”

“I’m just stressed. Viktor Kazakov paid a visit, and…”

“What? Viktor was here? Why was Viktor here?”

“He wanted to warn me about not telling anyone about Sophie. And he apparently bugged my old apartment. Or somebody did, because he knew that I didn’t bring it up with my mom.” We sat down, and Asher took my hand. “What are we going to do, Asher? My mother is going to go Defcon 1 when she hears about Sophie’s baby. I really thought, I really believed, that I would be able to tell my mother the truth. Now I’m going to have to pile this on her, along with everything else.”

“We’ll just have to deal with it,” Asher said.

“We can’t just deal with it. Listen, my mother is very important to me. I know that I shouldn’t care what she thinks, but I do. It’s bad enough that I’m married to the mob, as she puts it, but to find out that you’re about to have a child with Sophie…that’s going to send her over the edge. To say the very least.”

“CJ, this isn’t going to be easy. None of it is going to be easy. But we’re going to navigate these choppy waters together. We have to be a team, here. You and me. As long as we’re in this together, we can get through it together. Now, tell me what I can do to smooth things over with her.”

I sighed. “There’s not much you can do, Asher. My mother is going to disown both of us when that particular revelation makes itself known.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, this baby that she’s having is an insurance policy. As long as she has me by the short hairs, she won’t do anything to either one of us. She’ll be much more dangerous if something happens to that child.”

“I guess that it some kind of a silver lining.”

“It is. Now, come on, let’s go to bed. I know that you’ve had a stressful couple of days.

So have I. But I have to get some sleep and be rested for tomorrow, because tomorrow is very important. I’m going to find out if my American contracts are going to be decimated or not.”

“There’s not much more important than that,” I agreed.

But, when we got into bed, Asher stroked my abdomen. “Hello there little baby,” he said.

I laughed. “I’m like a week along. I doubt that this little baby can hear you.”

“Even so,” he said. And then he started to gently lick my stomach, and ran his hands along my abdomen. He climbed on top of me, and I could feel his penis just outside the opening of my netherworld. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m dying to be inside of you.”

I nodded my head and wrapped my arms around the back of his neck. He kissed my mouth and gently nibbled on my ear while he grinded into me without actually putting his cock inside of me. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back while he sucked on and licked my neck. One of his masculine hands cupped my breast and I felt the sense of ecstasy that I always felt when I was with him.

He moved to the side of me, and put one leg over me while he continue to stroke my breast. I sighed as his lips once again found mine, and I tried to drink him in. To absorb his essence. “Do it,” I said. “I need to feel you inside of me.”

He got on top of me, and he slowly made his way inside of me. I felt my breathing coming faster and faster as it seemed that he rooted inside of me. I felt my insides contract around him as I shook with pleasure. He kissed me tenderly on the lips and I sighed. “I love you, CJ,” he said. “I’ll always love you.”

I didn’t think to be worried about the way that he said that. Of course he would always love me. I wasn’t going to lose him, though, would I? “Oh, I love you, too,” I said. “You make me feel like nobody ever has.”

He finally came inside of me and, with a mighty groan, he pulled out and laid down next to me. “Things are going to be okay, CJ,” he said, while he tenderly stroked my hair. “You just have to believe.”

I absent-mindedly stroked his tattoo. “I hope that you’re right,” I said. “I really do.”

U
nfortunately
, I wasn’t able to go with Asher to DC after all. My job called me the morning that he was leaving, and my boss asked me to go on emergency assignment. “There’s been another police shooting,” she said. “You need to get down to the scene right now and get photos for the story we’re doing for this incident.”

Ugh. I was looking forward to being with Asher in DC again. I loved that city, just because I loved museums. The last time I was there, I felt like I didn’t get the chance to really explore, and I knew that, with the amount of history that was there, I would have had a lot of fun doing just that – exploring. Not to mention visiting the zoo.

“Well, don’t worry,” he said that morning as he packed his bags and prepared for his trip. “I’ll probably be back in a few days. I have no idea how much ass-kissing I’m going to have to do, although I would predict it’s going to be a lot.” He shook his head. “I also expect that there are going to be investigations into my business practices. They’re going to want to know if I’m laundering money for my father’s organization. I’m not, of course. I will admit that I send money to them, but only to you will I admit that. But I’ve never, ever sent company money for any corrupt purposes.”

“I know that,” I said. “I know that you have nothing to hide in that regard. I just hope that you don’t get your contracts pulled.” I knew that would be a disaster for Asher and his business, as well as be a set-back for the environment in general.

We kissed goodbye, and I headed off to work while Asher headed to the airport. We had separate limousines to take us in opposite directions.

T
hat evening
, it was time for me to relax. I had taken pictures of the chaos that surrounded the latest police shooting, which included a slew of protestors. Things had gotten out of hand, and the police were called. They showed up in riot gear, and proceeded to pelt the protestors with rubber bullets and pepper spray, and I captured it all. I spoke with some people at the scene, and captured their pictures as well. In all, it was a fruitful day, but I really missed Asher.

I gave him a call when I got home, but wasn’t able to get in touch with him, which seemed a bit odd. But, then again, he probably was getting dinner or something of the sort. Maybe he was dining with some of the senators. So, I just left a message and asked him to call me. I figured that I would get a phone call in a matter of hours, after Asher got back to his hotel room and had a minute.

In the meantime, I busied myself with continuing to unpack my things. I was still so jazzed about the size of the closet in this place. Not that I had anything to fill them with, of course. Up until recently, I didn’t have the money to buy fancy things. Now I did, but, then again, I didn’t necessarily know what I should spend the money on. I was always perfectly happy in jeans and casual shoes and boots. But I knew that I was soon going to have to help Asher entertain the hoi polloi, as he was on the board of many charities that were constantly having functions and balls and the like. He also was a guest at many cocktail parties for the New York elite. That was an aspect that I knew I wasn’t going to be comfortable with – rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous. I never knew what to say to them. I was the daughter of a working-class single mother from Brooklyn – what did I have to say to these people?

I felt vaguely discouraged, then, looking in the closet and unpacking my things. I knew that I was soon going to have to go shopping, and Asher had lined up a personal shopper for me. His name was Monette, and he was from France. According to Asher, he was the cream of the crop when it came to personal shopping. He made an appointment for me to go with Monette the following weekend. Monette was going to help me coordinate the best outfits for every occasion.

I really liked him, because he was flamboyantly gay, which was always a personality that I got along with very well. I liked gay men so much, because I usually found them hilarious, and Monette was no different. I had only spoke with him over the phone, but that was a lively conversation and I laughed all the way through it.

Of course, Monette was only the beginning. There was a diction coach that Asher had lined up for me when I told him that I felt vaguely uncomfortable talking to these rich folks when I still had a touch of a Brooklyn accent. There was a manners guru who was going to be working with me as well. He was going to drill me on everything from which fork to use for what to the protocol for thanking people, and everything in between. There were social rules for everything, I was finding out, and this manners coach, Raphael, was going to soon teach me all of that. There was a social doyenne who was going to give me the low-down on all the prominent New York families, because apparently I was going to have to be on my best behavior with them and not go into certain topics.

I felt like Eliza Doolittle with a team acting as Henry Higgins, as opposed to an individual. I wondered if the diction coach was going to make me recite words about the rain in Spain lying mainly on the plain.

What did I get myself into? I asked myself as I looked at my appointment book, which was rapidly filling up with coaches, shoppers and doyenne meetings.

But I knew what I got myself into. Being the wife of a billionaire was clearly going to be a full-time job in itself. Add into that the stresses of motherhood and an actual full-time job, and the conclusion was inescapable – I was going to be a very busy person indeed. But that was okay. As long as Asher and I were together, it was all going to be okay.

I busied myself for awhile by unpacking and reading through the Miss Manners book that I bought at the book store. My head was swimming as I wondered how I was going to keep all those rules straight in my head.

After about a couple of hours of doing all of that, I called Asher again. This time, the phone went straight to voice-mail.

Annoyed, I left him another message. “Asher, you promised to call me when you got out of the committee meetings. I’m dying to find out what happened. Call me as soon as you get this.”

I then watched a little bit of television in the den. I wrapped a blanket around me and found a program on HBO that I had been wanting to watch, and watched that until I fell asleep.

Then I woke up at 3 AM, because I had to go to the bathroom. I looked at my phone, and saw, with a start, that Asher still hadn’t called me back.

I shook my head. So not like him.

I tried to clear my mind of any fears that I might have had about what that meant. Surely he didn’t stay at a dinner this late? And why didn’t he at least check in when he was done with his meetings?

Annoyance started to go into fear. Asher wasn’t in contact anymore. He always called when he was away. He knew that I had a scare with Viktor recently, so I was surprised that he didn’t try to call me to make sure that everything was going okay over here. At the very least, he should have done that.

Yet he didn’t. What did that mean?

I decided to call the hotel where he was staying – he had a suite at the Ritz Carlton in Georgetown. I rang the front desk and a helpful woman answered the phone. “Ritz Carlton Georgetown, how may I direct your call?”

“I need to get in touch with somebody,” I said, giving her Asher’s room number.

“Thank you, I’ll ring,” she said.

As the phone rang and rang and rang, I felt my heart rate creeping up. Granted, it was 3 AM, but Asher tended to be a light sleeper, and he definitely would have answered the phone if he could.

Come on, Asher, answer the phone.
All at once, my mind was racing. Where was he?

I finally hung up the phone. Asher wasn’t going to answer, that was for sure.

I went back upstairs and tried to get some sleep, but I couldn’t. I just stared at the ceiling, obsessing. I hated this feeling. It reminded me of the times when my ex-boyfriend, the guy that I actually briefly lived with, didn’t come home at night. I would end up calling all the hospitals, and looking on the news sites to see if there was an accident. It turns out, of course, that there was no accident, just one very inconsiderate guy. We broke up sooner after.

Finally, I knew that I couldn’t just helplessly lay there and obsess. I had to do something. So, I called the limousine and asked the driver to take me to the airport.

“Miss, It’s 3:30 AM,” he said, as if I had no clue.

“I know, I’ll catch the first flight out.”

I figured that I would do just as well sitting there in the airport as I was doing at home. I wished that I had Asher’s plane, but, of course, I didn’t. I had to fly commercial. Ordinarily, that was okay. I didn’t mind it, of course. I grew up flying commercial. But, in this case, I wanted the private plane, because I didn’t want to wait the hours that would take before I could get on a regular flight. And who knew if I could even get a flight?

The car picked me up. I didn’t even bother to pack a bag.

On the way to the airport, I realized that either I was so stressed out that I was going to be sick, or I was going to be sick because the morning sickness had begun. Either way, I asked the driver to pull over on the highway. He did, and I got out and puked on the highway shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’m pregnant.”

The driver nodded his head. “Not a problem, Mrs. Sloane. We’ll be at the airport in 20 minutes.”

The longest 20 minutes of my life, no doubt.

I finally got to the airport and slammed the door behind me. I tipped the driver and went to the airport kiosk. The first flight didn’t leave until 5:45 AM, but that was okay with me. I paid a premium price for the ticket, of course, because I was so late getting the ticket. Again, though, this was okay. I just wanted to get in the air and get to DC and Asher’s hotel. I didn’t know what good that would do, going to his hotel room, but I felt that it gave me some degree of control.

I got my ticket and paced around the airport nervously. I tried to preoccupy myself by buying a magazine and reading it, but I couldn’t concentrate. I went to a restaurant and had breakfast. I was tempted to order a Bloody Mary with my breakfast, Viktor Kazakov’s words about the dangers of alcohol while pregnant ringing in my ears. But I decided against it. I couldn’t keep drinking as a way of dealing with anxiety. That was a crutch, and it was one that I just couldn’t think about while I was pregnant.

Finally, it was time to board the plane, and I did. Since I had no baggage, I was able to just sit down and relax. Remembering the last time I was on a plane, and I had a girl talk to me constantly about nothing, I immediately ask the stewardess for a pair of ear buds. She came back with a pair within a few minutes, and I put them on.

Twenty minutes later, we were up in the air. Forty five minutes after we got up in the air, we landed at Dulles. I immediately called a cab, and went to the Ritz Carlton, where I went up to Asher’s room and knocked on the door. “Please be there, please be there, please be there,” I said, feeling tears coming to my eyes.

After standing there for about fifteen minutes and knocking, I knew that he wasn’t there.

I looked at my watch. It wasn’t even 7 AM. Perhaps he went down to get something to eat before he went back up on the Hill? I knew that his meetings were always at 9 AM. At least, I thought that his meetings were at 9 AM. I found myself wishing that I could go and see the senators that I knew that he was meeting with. But I didn’t know these men. Asher hadn’t yet introduced me to them.

I, once again, felt completely helpless. I had no idea where he was.

I went down to the restaurant in the hotel and looked around, and didn’t see him. I then went to the Capitol Building to try to see if I could happen to run into him as he went into the doors. I knew that was a long shot, to say the very least, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing.

I chastised myself for coming up with such a stupid plan. What did I think? If I couldn’t get ahold of him, he just wouldn’t be in his room, would he? I was in the same city as he was, presumably, but that didn’t really matter, did it? If he was missing, he was missing.

I called his phone again, but realized that he just wasn’t going to pick up. It went straight to voice mail again, of course. As if I thought that he would just magically pick up.

Then I did something that I didn’t even think of before. I called Natalia.

She picked up the third ring.
Thank god.
“Natalia, this is CJ,” I said. “Have you been in touch with Asher?” If there was anybody who knew where Asher was, right at that moment, it would have been Natalia. After all, she was not only his sister, but he also had hired him to work for the company.

“No,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“Nothing. I just have a bad feeling, that’s all. He always calls me when he’s out of town, and he promised that he would. Now I can’t get in touch with him.” I tried to tamp down my tears, but I just couldn’t. “I don’t know if I can go through this, Natalia. Always looking over my shoulder, afraid that somebody is going to pop up and kill him. I know that he’s protected, and all of that, but I’m still afraid.”

“Do not be afraid,” she said. “My father is very powerful. If anybody does anything to him, then there would be hell to pay. Just calm down, CJ. We will be able to get in touch with him, I promise you.”

“What are you doing right now?” I asked her.

“I am at the office doing some research on some new companies overseas,” she said. “Of course, I am mainly focused on Russian companies.”

“Okay, thank you, Natalia. I’ll be in touch again if I can’t get ahold of him. I hope that’s okay.”

“Yes,” she said. “That would okay.”

I hung up and then put my head in my hands. I had no idea where he was, or how I could find him.

Then again, maybe he was already on the Hill. I went over to the Capitol Building, where people were milling about. I had no idea how to find out what committee meetings were happening when. As it turned out, though, simply Googling the matter brought me to United States Senate webpage, and it had all the committee meetings posted on the site.
Well, that was easy.