The Power Trip

future candidate for the Presidency of America. A compassionate man with high standards.

Eddie also saw the very beautiful, classy and serene wife of the Senator, Sierra Hammond. Every time he was in her presence she took his breath away. He had a schoolboy crush and there was nothing he could do about it except worship from afar.

Eddie March was catnip to women: an attractive, single male, working next to an esteemed Senator. At thirty-four he had his own boyish charm, only his was genuine.

Eddie elected to accompany Hammond and Sierra to the airport on the pretext that he had a few things to tie up before the Senator’s short vacation.

He sat opposite Hammond in the limousine discussing final decisions on several matters pending.

Sierra curled into her seat and gazed blankly out the window.

Eddie couldn’t help sending a few furtive glances her way. She was so damn beautiful with her porcelain skin and exquisite cheekbones. How the hell had Hammond gotten so lucky?

There was a mini-press conference outside the airport — not planned, but Hammond handled it with his usual style. Everyone was anxious to know when and if he was planning to run — rumours abounded.

Hammond gave them the well-thought-out noncommittal answers, for he had no intention of revealing his strategy to announce his candidacy. When the time came he’d decided that he would make his announcement on Jay Leno’s The Tonight Show, just like several other important politicians before him.

After all, he was a man of the people — what could be more fitting?

Chapter Thirty-Five

It was Sergei’s way to do things fast. Fast and thorough, with an obsessive attention to detail. Possessing a steel-trap mind, a lack of conscience and a knack for picking the right business partners, when he required something to be done, he expected instant gratification or there would be consequences.

So when Sergei discovered that Aleksandr Kasianenko was the man responsible for his brother’s murder, he immediately had his people find out everything he needed to know about his fellow Russian. Sergei had numerous contacts, and since information was a currency he dealt in every day, it didn’t take long. Way back in the early nineties, after the fall of the Soviet Union, Sergei was reminded that Boris and Aleksandr Kasianenko had been involved in some kind of business dispute over shares in an oil company, to which Boris had claimed he was entitled. Sergei had no memory of how the issue was resolved, but he did recall that Boris had always held a grudge, and after brooding about it for years, he’d made plans to kidnap one of Kasianenko’s daughters and hold her for ransom. ‘That motherfucking pizda still owes me money,’ Boris had raged. ‘It’s been years now, and I have waited long enough. It is time to claim what’s mine.’

Boris’s plan had never materialized because of his untimely death.

Finally Sergei understood why. Aleksandr Kasianenko must’ve heard about the kidnapping plot, and taken steps to prevent it from happening. Aleksandr Kasianenko had murdered Boris, taken his life as if it meant nothing. And he would pay for that.

When Sergei heard about Aleksandr’s new yacht and his upcoming trip, it was like a gift laid out in all its glory for him to salivate over and relish.

He could almost taste the ultimate revenge.

Could anything be more perfect?

Aleksandr Kasianenko.

One rich lucky motherfucker.

Not so lucky any more.

Sergei would see to that.

Chapter Thirty-Six

When Bianca caught sight of her name emblazoned across the side of the gleaming white super-yacht, she forgot all about her fight with her lover. She turned to Aleksandr and hugged him tightly. ‘You didn’t!’ she squealed.

‘Yes, my dear, I did,’ he said, finally breaking a smile, for their flight to Cabo had been most uncomfortable. Bianca had spent the majority of the time locked in the bedroom, which was an embarrassment considering they had guests. At times she could be a wilful woman and it infuriated him.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she demanded, green eyes gleaming with delight.

‘I decided to surprise you,’ Aleksandr said. ‘I know how you love surprises.’

‘Now I feel so selfish for not helping you with our guests,’ Bianca said, pouting. ‘I’m such a bad, bad girl.’

‘It’s all right, my dear,’ he assured her. ‘Our guests slept.’

‘And you?’

‘I fell asleep for a minute or two,’ he replied. ‘Not as comfortably as if I’d been in my own bedroom, but it was acceptable.’

‘Why didn’t you come in and join me?’ Bianca asked, experiencing waves of guilt. ‘I wouldn’t’ve kicked you out.’

‘I was under the impression that you were in no mood to be disturbed.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, truly meaning it.

‘Good enough,’ he replied, relieved to put their argument to rest. Fighting with Bianca was not his favourite pastime.

‘I’m also sorry for flashing my cooch,’ Bianca added with an embarrassed giggle. ‘You know it wasn’t intentional. I wouldn’t do that.’

‘I’m sure it wasn’t.’

‘Damn cell-phone cameras,’ she grumbled. ‘They should be banned!’

‘I expect my wife will eventually get over it,’ Aleksandr said, quite certain that Bianca’s indiscretion would cost him dearly.

‘You think?’ she asked hopefully.

‘I know,’ Aleksandr said, taking her arm. ‘Come, my dear. Let us go board The Bianca. The magnificent lady awaits our presence.’

* * *

Away from London, their large house, the demanding twins, her interfering mother and her design obligations — which as far as Taye could tell consisted of nothing more than picking out fancy fabrics for rich clients — Ashley was like a different person. She’d suddenly turned all giggly and girlish, groping him on the plane — even suggesting they might do it in the toilet. His wife was actually happy and randy! Exactly like the girl he’d married six years ago, the girl who couldn’t get enough, the fun-loving Ashley he’d knocked up in the back of his Roller one drunken night after a party.

Ah yes, he remembered that night well. Ashley in a Stella McCartney dress and no knickers, high heels and bare legs. He’d actually gone down on her in the back of the car before jamming it into her sweet wetness.

It was the night they’d conceived Aimee and Wolf. What a night!

‘Oh,’ Ashley said, fanning herself as they got off the plane. ‘This place is bloody hot.’

‘Yeah,’ Taye agreed, ‘an’ it’ll get even hotter tonight when I’m givin’ you exactly what you want.’

‘You mean what you want,’ she giggled.

They had not done it on the plane due to the fact that Ashley had complained that the toilet was too disgusting. ‘There’s three inches of pee on the floor,’ she’d moaned in disgust. ‘Why can’t men ever aim straight?’