Confess To Be Mine

by Suzie Nelson

  Tansy nodded as they entered the bar. “Possibly. He does get bored, that is true. Well, whatever’s going on in his brain, I’m just glad you’re getting what you need.”

  Odette waved to them from a table by the windows and Angie led Tansy over to her friends.

  “Tansy, so good to see you again!” said Odette, rising so that she and Tansy could give each other air kisses on each cheek. “This is our friend Claire.”

  “Nice to meet you,” said Claire, smiling as she gave Tansy an appreciative once over. Odette kicked her under the table.

  Tansy smiled back and slipped into the booth next to Claire. “You too,” she said, giving Claire a once over of her own. Odette rolled her eyes.

  “How did it go?” she asked Angie.

  Claire tore her eyes off Tansy and turned to her friends. “Did you get to speak with him? Did he remember the dress? What am I saying? Of course, he remembered the dress.”

  Angie grinned. “He did. I was the only one he talked to. And…” her smile grew wider, “he agreed to give me a longer interview. In fact, he’s letting me tag along with him over the next few weeks to get a glimpse into his life. Apparently, we’re going to his ranch in Arizona or something after they finish shooting.”

  “That’s amazing!!” said Claire, grabbing Angie’s hand in hers.

  But Odette shook her head. “Honey, he’s just trying to sleep with you. Do not go to that ranch alone.”

  Angie shook her head. “I told him if that’s what he wants he can forget about it. I told him I won’t sleep with him for an interview no matter how in-depth.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “No,” said Tansy, shaking her head, “he’s not the kind of guy to take advantage like that. He likes the thrill of the hunt too much. He’s got an ego on him like you wouldn’t believe. But either he convinces you that you want him or it doesn’t happen. Coercion means you don’t have a choice. He wants you to choose him. Plus she won’t be alone at the ranch. I’ll be there too. Though to be honest, he’s probably going to try to charm you into bed with him. The more I think about it, the more I think that he must like you. He hates journalists. There’s no way he’d ask one to tag along with him unless he had ulterior motives.”

  “Who called it?” asked Claire rhetorically. “That’s right, I did.”

  Angie shushed her friend, “Well, he can try to get me into bed with him all he likes, I’m not going to. It’s totally unprofessional.”

  “Oh, come on,” said Odette. “You would pass up the chance to sleep with Sasha Pollock because it’s unprofessional?”

  “Look, this is all hypothetical,” said Angie defensively. “We don’t actually know that he likes me at all.”

  The other women shared a look that spoke volumes and Angie rolled her eyes. “Look, let’s just be happy I’m getting an interview. This is my big break. If this goes to plan, I’m going to be back in the saddle in no time.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” said Claire and raised her latte in a toast. “What do you say we go for a celebratory dinner tonight? Tansy, you want to join us?”

  Tansy smiled at Claire. “I’d love to,” she said.

  Chapter 6

  Monday morning rolled around and Angie was back waiting in the lobby of the Kimpton Monaco just as Sasha had told her to. She was wearing jeans, hiking boots and a zip-up black hoody that accentuated her slim waist. Sasha had to admit that she looked good in just about anything. She hadn’t noticed him yet and yawned, making a small squeak like a puppy as she did so. He smiled. She was cute.

  “You’re very smiley for this early in the morning,” Bruce commented, his voice very neutral. “Especially considering you’re meeting with a journalist.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Sasha asked defensively.

  “Nothing,” said Bruce. “I was merely stating a fact, sir.”

  “Hmph,” said Sasha and immediately frowned, doing his best to look disgruntled. But then Angie looked up and smiled and he couldn’t help but smile back. She looked so happy to be there. Tired, but happy.

  “You came,” said Sasha, coming up to stand with her.

  “Of course,” she said.

  “Do you have a question?” he asked.

  “Do you?” she replied, bringing out her recorder.

  “Why did you become a celebrity journalist?” Sasha promptly asked.

  She smiled. “Straight to the heart of things, I see. Because I like talking to people and I’m interested in why people do things. And I want the people watching my interviews to see that celebrities are just people doing their best and that, with a bit of luck and a lot of work, maybe my viewers could get there too.”

  “Ah, the American dream,” said Sasha with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “How quaint.”

  “Maybe,” Angie shrugged. “But I’d rather encourage people than grind them down. Life in general does a good enough job at that.”

  “Ah, then you’re not such an optimist,” Sasha said.

  “I’m a realist,” said Angie, “but a hopeful one.”

  Sasha nodded, “And your question?”

  “Do you actually speak Russian?” Angie asked. “And, if so, which do you prefer: English or Russian?”

  “Technically that’s two questions,” Sasha pointed out.

  Angie shrugged and waited.

  “I do,” said Sasha, giving in to her silence. To be honest, it was actually kind of nice to talk about his mother tongue. “And it depends on the situation. I learned Russian first, from my mother, so it’s a very private, intimate language for me. But English is the language of my work and my country. I don’t know. I don’t think I could choose. It’s like your children. You don’t love one more than the other except when one is misbehaving.”

  Angie smiled. “And does one language ever misbehave?”

  Sasha laughed, “I guess so, kind of. Sometimes when I’m speaking English, Russian will get in the way, or vice versa. You know, like I can only think of the word in the other language and then I get confused. And it’s, like, I just want the other language to get out of the way and let me talk. But I guess these days I don’t really get to speak Russian so it’s nice when I do. It’s almost a relief, you know? Like sinking into a favorite chair.” He paused, suddenly worried that he’d said too much and that she’d want to know why he no longer needed to speak Russian. She might be cute when she yawned, but he didn’t want to talk about his mother with her. That was private.

  But she just smiled at him and said, “Well, why don’t you teach me some words? I don’t know any language but English.”

  Sasha blinked. “Uh…okay. I guess I could.”

  But then the SUV that would carry them to the location showed up outside the front doors and they had to leave it at that. But, to Sasha’s surprise, once they were settled in the car, Angie – her recorder turned off – asked him again to teach her some Russian. So he did. The hour-long ride to the remote forest where they were shooting went by faster than it ever had before.

  Bruce sat silently through the whole ride, looking out at the passing scenery and smiling.

  Chapter 7

  Angie smiled to herself as the hot water poured down her back, massaging her stiff muscles. They’d spent all day trekking through the trees as Sasha and his co-stars ran, jumped, shouted, and pretended to shoot bad guys. She still wasn’t sure exactly what the movie was about, but it didn’t really matter. The important thing was that she’d been there on set with Sasha Pollock, that they’d ridden there and back together in the same SUV, and, most importantly, that he had talked to her.

  She was extremely curious as to why he no longer spoke Russian – where was his mother? Presumably, they spoke Russian together. No one had ever even seen her before, though, so God only knew. Maybe he spoke Russian with his father? Did he have a father? No one knew him either. But she hadn’t wanted to ask what had changed. She knew better that to push it on the first day and
scare him off. He’d already talked more than she’d thought he would. Plus, it had been fun learning a few sentences in Russian. His face had lit up as he corrected her pronunciation, the tangled syllables slipping off his tongue with an ease that baffled her. And, to be honest, she had found it kind of hot to hear him speaking Russian. She had to admit that Laura had been right: it was a sexy language and it only made him seem more so.

  She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. The last thing she needed was to find him even more attractive. She was here to work. She was a professional, for heaven’s sake! But suddenly an image sprang into her mind: Sasha, leaning over her, kissing her naked body as he murmured to her, the Russian words sliding over her like silk, making her skin tingle.

  “Stop it!” she told herself out loud and busied herself with the complimentary shampoos.

  The last week of shooting passed quickly and each day Sasha talked a little bit more. She enjoyed the way he teased her, turning her questions on their head, questioning her methods or motives. It kept her on her toes.

  And, to her surprise, he continued her Russian lessons. Each time they got into the SUV he would have a new word or phrase for her to learn before he quizzed on what she’d learned the day before. Soon, Angie found herself practicing in the shower so that she didn’t forget anything. She had to admit he was a good teacher, and he seemed so happy to be speaking Russian. She was dying to ask about his parents, but she knew she still had to wait.

  Then, on their last day of filming, he asked her, “You said you’d been having a shitty six months even before your mother died. What happened? Was it just her cancer?”

  Angie blinked. She was surprised he’d remembered her mentioning that. “No,” she said slowly, trying to figure out how to word what she said. “My mother died very suddenly.”

  Angie took a deep breath. It still hurt to think about. She looked up and saw that Sasha was looking at her intently and his dark eyes seemed incredibly sad. His beautiful, sensual mouth was pulled down at the corners and she felt as if he knew exactly how she was feeling.

  Then Sasha did something very unexpected: he put his arms around her and gently pulled her to his chest, resting his cheek on her hair. It was a light hug, not tight, and she could have left it whenever she wanted. But she didn’t. It felt good to be held. She pressed her cheek to his chest, her fingers taking hold of his windbreaker. “She found out and a few weeks later she was dead,” she whispered.

  Sasha said nothing, but she could feel him swallow. They stayed like that for a moment longer, comforting each other, and then, as suddenly as it had happened, the embrace dissolved and they broke apart. Angie cleared her throat. “But a few months before that I discovered that I’d wasted seven years of my life with an asshole who thought that my successful career was emasculating him. That was what started the whole downward spiral,” Angie explained, finishing her story as if nothing unusual had just happened between her and Sasha.

  “Emasculating him?” Sasha repeated, raising his eyebrows. “He sounds like a douche.”

  “He was. He had no problem with my success when it was paying his rent while he finished his masters, or when it paid for his vacations. But there you go,” she shrugged. “I’m just sorry I wasted so much time on such an idiot.”

  “Well, if he left you, he certainly was an idiot,” Sasha agreed, strolling out to meet the SUV and leaving Angie to wonder what the hell had just happened. Suddenly she realized that she hadn’t even had a chance to ask her question.

  “Sneaky bastard,” she muttered and headed for the SUV.

  That night they all had dinner together: Sasha, Angie, Tansy, and Bruce. It was strangely like a family meal, thought Angie.

  “There’s been a change in plans,” Tansy told them as the waiter poured them each a glass of wine. “We have to stop off in L.A. for a quick photo shoot before heading to Arizona.”

  Sasha made a face. “For the film?” he asked.

  Tansy nodded. “It’s just a one-day thing. A few shots of you in costume looking forlorn but courageous on the studio set. The usual thing.”

  Sasha nodded. “While I’m doing that, why don’t you show Angie around the house? Tell her whatever she wants to know.”

  Bruce’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything. Tansy controlled her face a little better and said calmly, “Sounds good. You’ll love the house, Angie. It’s beautiful. Right up in the hills in Santa Monica.”

  “Sounds like a dream,” said Angie. “I can sort of vaguely see those hills from my balcony on a clear day,” she joked.

  Tansy chuckled.

  “Do you miss your apartment?” Sasha asked suddenly.

  Angie shook her head. “You already had your question today,” she told him. “But no, not really.”

  “I’d like to see it,” he said.

  Angie blinked again. “Uhh, well it’s…it’s nothing special. I mean, I love it, but that’s because it’s mine. But I guess, sure, if you want to. We can go after your photo shoot if you have the time.”

  “Do I have the time?” Sasha asked Tansy. His assistant nodded, smiling slightly.

  “Perfect,” said Sasha and then went back to eating as if nothing had happened, once again leaving Angie totally confused. Why on earth would he want to see her apartment? Surely he knew it wouldn’t be anything compared to his mansions?

  Arriving back in Los Angeles after the quiet of the Oregon forests felt like getting smacked in the face with a cymbal. The wall of heat and noise almost made Angie stumble as they left the airport.

  “Yeah, you forget what it’s like, don’t you?” Sasha said, noticing her reaction.

  Angie nodded.

  “You’ll get used to it again,” the movie star told her.

  And she did. By the time she and Tansy arrived at his mansion, she felt as if she’d never left.

  “Holy shit,” she said as they pulled up in front of the house. “This place is huge!”

  Tansy nodded. “Wait till you see the view.”

  Tansy took her through the entire house, talking about the architecture and the house’s history before Sasha bought it. Angie thought it was the most beautiful house she’d ever been in, though she had to admit it felt more like a showroom than a home - until they came to his study

  “He loves this room, doesn’t he?” Angie asked as she looked around. She felt as if she were somehow trespassing on something very private, even though he’d given her permission.

  Tansy nodded. “It’s really the only room he uses outside of the gym and his bedroom.”

  Angie ran her hands along the soft rust-colored leather of the captain’s chair by his desk. “Is that his mother?” she asked, pointing to the only picture on the desk. It was a photo of a beautiful blonde woman whose dark eyes were smiling down at the cherubic blonde baby balanced on her hip. The baby was reaching towards her, grinning up at the woman.

  “Yeah, that’s them when Sasha was one or two.”

  “What happened to her?” Angie asked, looking at the photo but not daring to pick it up.

  “She died about six years ago,” Tansy said after a moment’s hesitation. “She had cancer. It was fast.”

  Suddenly several things made sense to Angie. She nodded. “Poor guy,” she said. “He must miss her a lot.”

  “I think so,” said Tansy. “He doesn’t talk about it much, but Bruce says he was different back then. Less bored.” Suddenly Tansy’s phone started beeping, “Time to get going, I’m afraid. The photo shoot’s over.”

  Angie nodded, taking one last look at the mother and happy baby as they left.

  Sasha and Bruce met them on the sidewalk. Sasha was grinning and full of energy. “Time to even the score, Wilde. You’ve seen my house, after all,” he smiled down at Angie, rubbing his hands together.

  Angie sighed. She’d thought maybe he’d forgotten their deal. God, she thought, I hope I left it tidy. With everything that had happened si
nce she’d left for Oregon, she honestly couldn’t remember what state she’d left her apartment in.

  Spick and span, apparently. Angie heaved a sigh of relief as she let Sasha into her home, taking a quick look around for any signs of dirty laundry or dishes in need of hiding. Luckily for her, she’d been feeling pro-active before she’d left and the apartment was immaculate.

  As Sasha wandered through the small apartment, making a show of running his fingers along the spins of her books and opening her kitchen cupboards, Angie had to admit that it was nice to be back. She sank into the welcome embrace of her couch and shook her head, smiling as she watched Sasha investigate.

  He was pushing his luck and he knew it. But she honestly didn’t mind him poking through her stuff. As long as he didn’t open the drawer in her bedside table where she kept her dildos, there was nothing in her apartment that she felt she needed to hide. And hell, when it came down to it, she was a grown woman. If he stumbled onto her dildo drawer, it was his own damn fault for being nosy.