by Suzie Nelson
“I like it,” the movie star said finally, coming out of her bedroom. “Especially the bedspread. Great stripes.”
Angie beamed at him.
“Did you decorate it yourself?” he asked.
Angie nodded. “I even put in the electrical outlets and lamps myself. It was only partially complete when I bought it, which is the only reason I could afford an apartment in this neighborhood.”
Sasha raised his eyebrows. “And she can do her own electrical work? You’re a keeper, Wilde,” he said, giving her an enigmatic half smile. Angie couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or genuinely fond of her.
“Thanks,” she replied as he joined her on the couch. “Do you actually like it?” For some reason it made her feel good to know that he liked her apartment, despite its humbleness.
Sasha stretched an arm out over the back of the couch and turned his body towards her. “I do,” he replied. “Why would I lie about that?”
Angie shrugged. “I just…well, it’s nothing compared to your home.”
Sasha shook his head. “I like it because it’s loved. You clearly put a lot of thought and effort into making it like this. I like that it’s an extension of you. That it doesn’t just look like everyone else’s apartment. It’s unique.”
He looked at her as he spoke, his dark eyes holding hers. Angie felt a blush rising up her throat and she looked away, focusing on her feet. “Thanks,” she said to her toes.
Sasha chuckled. “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice lower and rougher than usual. It sent a bolt of desire through Angie and she swallowed. It was time to even the score – before she did something she’d regret.
Turning back to him, she looked him square in the eyes and asked, “Why did you decide to let me do this interview? The real reason.”
Sasha blinked, clearly caught off guard. Then he smiled. “No, I suppose you haven’t had your question yet today, have you?”
She shook her head, refusing to be distracted.
He sighed. “Because of your mother,” he admitted. Then he corrected himself, “Because of how you spoke about your mother. My mother also died suddenly. I know how it feels to lose your best friend.” He eyed her for a moment then said, “Tansy told you about my mother, didn’t she?” It was phrased as a question, but it wasn’t really.
Angie nodded. There was no point in lying. “Yes, but I’d had my suspicions ever since you said you never got to speak Russian anymore.” She shrugged and looked down, “But it’s a really private thing to talk about. And I wanted to hear it from you…if you were ready to talk about it,” she said. Hesitantly, she put her hand on his, where it lay on his thigh. “I won’t mention it in my article if you don’t want me to,” she told him.
Sasha smiled down at their hands and took hers in his, his large fingers engulfing hers. “No, it’s okay. I trust you to respect her memory,” he said, his thumb brushing the back of her hand and making Angie break out in goosebumps. “Thank you for waiting.”
“Of course,” she said softly. She felt a sudden urge to take him in her arms – much like he had done when he’d first heard about her mother. “I’ve had a lot of fun, you know,” she said suddenly. “Working with you, I mean.”
Sasha looked up at her and smiled. “I’m glad,” he said. He opened his mouth to say more but there was a noise at the door. Someone was trying to unlock it but wasn’t having any luck.
Frowning, Angie stood up and unlocked it from inside, swinging the door open to reveal Josh, key in hand. Behind him stood a very pretty blonde woman.
“What are you doing here?” asked Angie.
“Oh, uh, Ange…I didn’t think you’d be home,” Josh stuttered, straightening. “I just came to get the last of my things. Why won’t my key work?”
“I changed the locks,” Angie replied, mentally fuming. He could have written to say he was coming. And why now, all of a sudden, did he want the last box of junk he’d left sitting in her apartment for over a year? He’d always told her he didn’t have time, but that she was welcome to drop it off.
“So you’ve finally found the time to come get your stuff, huh?”
“You don’t need to be so huffy, Angelica,” said Josh, using her full name. “If it was bothering you, I told you you could drop it off at any time.”
“It’s your—” Angie took a deep breath and cut herself off. There was no point in getting mad at Josh. He would never see things like a reasonable human being. “Who’s your friend? Did she drive you?”
Josh smiled at the blonde and brought her forward. “This is my girlfriend Stacey. We’ve been together six months now.”
Stacey smiled widely, as if completely unaware of how awkward the situation was. “It’s so good to meet you,” she said, holding out a hand to Angie.
Angie sighed and shook the woman’s hand. It wasn’t her fault Josh was an asshole. If anything, Angie should be warning her to run, and run fast. “Likewise,” she said.
“Are you going to let us in or what, Angie?” asked Josh, impatiently.
“Sure, come on in,” said Angie, stepping aside to let the couple enter – only to realize who was sitting in her living room. “Shit,” she whispered. She didn’t want Josh taking a picture and selling it to some tabloid, saying he’d met Sasha Pollock in his ex-girlfriend’s living room. Sasha would not be pleased about that.
Cringing, Angie turned around to run damage control, only to find Sasha standing up and offering his hand to Josh. “You didn’t tell me you were expecting company, sweetheart,” he said, smiling broadly at Angie.
Angie blinked. Sweetheart?
“Angie and I are only in town for the day,” Sasha turned back to Josh, shaking his hand heartily. “You’re lucky to have caught us,” he told the shocked couple. “Who are you again?” he asked, smiling at Josh as though he were about to eat him.
Suddenly Angie realized what was happening and had to fight to keep herself from exploding with laughter. She skipped over to Sasha and slid under his arm, beaming up at him with only partially faked happiness. “This is Josh and…Stacey, wasn’t it?” she told him. “I wasn’t expecting them at all! I was so looking forward to us having the day all to ourselves, you know that,” she pressed herself against Sasha’s chest and his arm tightened around her waist. “But Josh just has to pick up a few things and then they’ll be on their way.”
Sasha turned back to Josh and Stacey and smiled. “Nah, it’s fine. Don’t you want to catch up? Stay for a beer, guys.”
“Oh, no,” said Josh stiffly, clearly realizing that he had lost the advantage he’d hoped to have by surprising Angie with his new girlfriend. “We have another thing to get to. It’s just like Angie said. We’re just picking something up.”
“Um,” said Stacey suddenly, finally working up the courage to speak. “Um, aren’t you, like, Sasha Pollock?”
“Drat,” said Sasha heartily, “I was hoping you wouldn’t realize. But yeah, that’s me.”
Stacey looked like she was about to faint. “Could I maybe…could I have your autograph?” she asked.
“Stacey,” Josh snapped at her. “Don’t be rude. Clearly, the man has better things to do. Don’t be so embarrassing.”
Stacey wilted and Angie glared at Josh, furious that he would talk to his girlfriend like that – especially in public. She couldn’t believe that she’d stayed with him for so long. “Don’t be ridiculous, Josh,” she snapped back. “She’s not being embarrassing, you are. Sasha doesn’t mind, do you, sweetheart?” she replied, stressing the pet name and grinning up at him. She was enjoying their little joke more and more.
Sasha shook his head. “Not even a little. Do you have something you’d like me to sign, Stacey?” he asked gently, smiling kindly at the other woman.
Stacey brightened immediately. “I think so,” she said, fishing around in her purse.
“Take your time,” said Angie as Josh fumed. “I’ll go get Josh’s stuff.”
Grinning evilly to herself, Angie fought back the urge to cackle and went to drag the box of Josh’s junk from where she’d buried it in the back of the closet.
By the time she returned, box in tow, Stacey had her autograph and Josh was ready to leave. “Finally,” he said, grabbing the box from Angie. She half expected him to go through everything to make sure she hadn’t lost anything, but he glanced angrily at Sasha and simply said, “I hope everything’s there.”
Angie shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. If you’d really been worried, you would have come to get all that junk a year ago.”
“Like I said,” Josh told her haughtily, “I’ve been busy. Not all of us spend our days lounging around unemployed.”
The unfairness of the jibe – when she’d supported him for nearly their entire relationship! – stung, and Angie drew herself up to retort. But Sasha got there first. “Don’t be rude,” he said, his voice no longer bright and welcoming. “Apologize,” he instructed Josh.
Josh looked up at Sasha, clearly caught between fear and the need to assert his dominance. But Sasha was nearly six foot six and pure muscle – Josh was too much of a coward to try anything with him.
“Sorry, Ange,” he managed to get out and, glaring at Sasha, he muttered something to Stacey and hurried her towards the door.
“Nice to meet you, Stacey,” Angie called over Sasha’s shoulder. “You should dump him,” she continued – but the door had already closed behind them.
Once more alone in her apartment with Sasha, Angie looked up at him and grinned, finally giving in to her laughter. “Oh my God,” she cackled, “you were amazing, Sasha! I can’t believe it! The look on his face! Thank you so much!” And, without thinking, she threw her arms around him.
Sasha hugged her back, laughing along with her. “Well, I’m not one of Hollywood’s leading men for nothing,” he joked. But his dark eyes hadn’t lost their ferocity.
Chapter 8
Sasha was quiet on the drive back to his home in Santa Monica and Angie respected his silence, looking out the window and enjoying the coastal scenery as he drove them back. “The ocean is magical out here, isn’t it?” was all she said. And he had to admit that the way the sunlight skittered across the tiny waves, sparkling like diamond chips, really was beautiful.
Unfortunately, he had other things to think about than the view. While Sasha had enjoyed playing the part of Angie’s new love interest and making her obnoxious ex look like an idiot, he had to admit that there had been more to his performance than just the desire to help Angie get revenge – his performance, if he was really honest with himself, had been more than just a performance. He had wanted Josh to try something. He’d wanted an excuse to hit the other man, to make him hurt the way he had clearly hurt Angie.
Sasha glanced across at the dark-haired journalist who was smiling out up at the hills, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil. When she’d beamed up at him after Josh and his girlfriend had left, Sasha had felt himself tilt towards her, his body seeking hers. He’d wanted to kiss her. He’d wanted to kiss her more than he’d wanted to do just about anything in his life. Sasha sighed. Sure, he’d been hoping to seduce her for a few nights of fun, but he certainly hadn’t been planning on falling in love. He was in trouble.
“We haven’t practiced your Russian in a while,” he said suddenly, wanting to distract himself from his own thoughts.
Angie turned away from the scenery and smiled at him. “No, we haven’t! Are you going to quiz me? I’m ready. Bring it on.”
Sasha laughed. “How do you say ‘hello’?”
“Pfff,” Angie spluttered. “What is this, amateur hour? Zdrastvuyte. Menyazavut Angie. A kak vas zavut?” she rattled off the introduction he’d taught her the week before with near-perfect pronunciation.
Sasha raised his eyebrows. “Menyazavut Sasha,” he said, replying to her question. “That was great, Angie. Have you been practicing?”
Angie blushed. “Maybe a little,” she admitted. “I dunno, it’s just really fun to speak. I like the way it sounds. And—” her blush grew stronger, “you just seem so happy when you’re speaking Russian to me.”
Sasha blinked. He had been enjoying speaking Russian again – even if it was just to teach her basic sentences – but he hadn’t realized he’d been so obvious about it. “I am happy speaking it with you,” he said, smiling at Angie. “But I’m usually happy when you’re around.”
There was silence in the car after that and Sasha cursed himself for getting carried away. But there was something about this woman that just broke down all his defenses. He couldn’t keep his cool around her the way he wanted to.
Angie’s cheeks grew – if it was possible – even redder. “I’m glad,” she said. “You’ve…this…I’m glad,” she repeated and then quickly went back to looking out the window.
“Do you really think you’re getting off the hook that easily?” Sasha asked. “We still haven’t practiced the verb ‘to be’. Do you remember what it is?”
Angie turned back to him, grinning. “Of course!” she said. “Oooh, are we learning the past tense today?”
Sasha looked at her out of the corner of his eye and smirked, “Maybe if you do very, very well with the present tense.”
“You’re on!” said Angie and she began to recite the verb ‘to be’ in Russian, Sasha gently correcting her pronunciation every few words.
In what seemed like no time at all they were back at the house, where Tansy and Bruce were waiting with the luggage already packed in the trunk of a sleek black BMW.
“Finally,” said Tansy as they got out of the car. “I thought maybe you two had gotten lost. Bob is waiting for us at the airport, come on.”
“Who’s Bob?” Angie asked as she got into the back seat of the BMW.
“He’s my pilot,” said Sasha as he got in next to her. “Taking public flights is always a nightmare so I bought a small plane and hired Bob. He’s great. Spends most of his days off hunting moose in Montana. Very quiet. Keeps to himself.”
“Ah, the strong, silent type, is he?” Angie asked, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “I can see why you’d like him then.”
Tansy laughed from where she was riding up front with Bruce. “She’s got your number, Sasha,” she said twisting around to smile at the movie star.
Sasha raised a quelling eyebrow at Tansy, but she wasn’t frightened. She knew Sasha well enough not to be afraid of his eyebrows.
“Don’t sulk, Sasha,” she continued. “It’s good for you to have someone who’ll cross swords with you. Keeps you limber. Not to mention it’ll take your ego down a notch.”
Sasha was not pleased with this conversation and turned to look out the window.
Tansy rolled her eyes and focused on Angie. “I’ve actually got a favor to ask you,” she said, biting her lower lip.
“Shoot,” said Angie, smiling.
“You remember that blonde that was with you and Odette in Portland. Petite, sarcastic, and - I’m hoping - very gay?”
“Claire,” said Angie promptly, recognizing the description of her friend immediately.
“Yes, Claire,” said Tansy. “Um, I was just wondering…do you…” The personal assistant cleared her throat, “Would you happen to have her number handy?”
Angie blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Oh my God, yes!” she squealed, clapping her hands together before grabbing her purse. “Wait,” she said holding her phone in one hand and pointing it threateningly at Tansy. “Claire is my best friend in the entire world. I want you to know that.”
Tansy nodded silently.
“So if you don’t treat her right,” Angie continued, “I will hunt you down and kick you in the shins.”
Sasha snorted with laughter. “I was expecting something a little more violent,” he said, turning back to the women.
Angie scoffed. “Are you kidding me? Getting kicked in the shins is excruciating. Besides,” she said, flipping her
mane of hair over one shoulder and showing him her long, graceful neck, “we can’t all be action heroes. I’ve got to work with what I have.”
“You hurt my assistant and it’s over between us, Wilde,” Sasha teased her.
“Aw, he really cares,” said Tansy as she pressed a hand to her heart. Then she smiled at Angie. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I have every intention of treating her very well.”
Angie grinned as she texted Tansy Claire’s number. “Good. She needs it. Or, more accurately, I need it. She’s had, like, the worst string of bimbo girlfriends lately. I can’t stand any of them. I’d much rather she start bringing you to dinner.”