Billionaire Flawed 2(68)

The Ambassador climbed down from the podium in the Russian Embassy in Washington DC and gratefully accepted a glass of champagne from a waiter.

Mr. President, as I said in my speech, thank you for attending this evening.

Not at all, it is a magnificent initiative that deserves my support. If a terrorist got hold of one of these weapons, it would be the greatest disaster that has ever befallen us.

Daniel Wahlberg looked at the Ambassador. He didn't like or trust him, but the President was an experienced politician who made everyone feel they were his friend. Stanislav Kuklov was a big man. Probably six feet two and very broad. He had a round face with a scar down his right cheek. His eyes were particularly noticeable because they were gray or very faintly blue if one was being polite. Unlike the President, he had a full head of black hair and sun-tanned skin.

Mr. President, may I introduce you to my son, Slava. He's over here on vacation.

It's nice to meet you, Slava, the President said, as he shook the young man's hand.

The pleasure is mine, sir, Slava replied.

Have you met my daughter, Octavia? he said looking at his twenty-year-old daughter.

No sir, I have not. It is a pleasure to meet you too Octavia, Slava said as he lifted Octavia's hand and kissed it.

Octavia laughed at the manner of his greeting; she thought it old-fashioned but extremely quaint. I can see you are a perfect gentleman, she replied, referring to the hand kissing.

Ah, where I am from, that is quite normal.

Mr. President, shall we leave these two young people to chat? I would like to talk to you about a matter that has been on my mind for some time. The President nodded and Slava and Octavia found themselves standing alone.

If I may say so Octavia, you look quite stunning this evening. I have of course seen many photos of you in the press, but in real you are even more beautiful.

Octavia looked at him before she replied. He was her age, around twenty, tall and dark, like his father. Unlike his father, Slava was handsome. She took an instant liking to his relaxed manner and blue eyes. When he smiled, it made her want to giggle, like a school girl.

It's very kind of you to say so. Is it customary in Russia to comment on a ladies beauty so soon after meeting her?

If I have offended you, I apologize. It wasn't my intention to....

No, you didn't offend me. Your remarks made me feel wonderful. I only ask because it happens so rarely in the US. Mostly people are more interested in criticizing what I have chosen to wear.

I have seen your photo in many magazines and newspapers, and I can say, I have never seen you wearing anything I didn't like. It must be tough being the President's daughter. In the US you are akin to royalty, Slava said.

It is not easy, you are right. But I am privileged, and that is something I mustn't take for granted. Most people in the world are less fortunate than me, and I mustn't forget it.

That is an interesting comment, one I have often used myself. However, I believe everyone has their problems, and just because they don't have worse problems than others, doesn't make it any easier. Octavia was impressed by his thought. He seemed different, someone who rationalized, unlike most people she knew who were uptight and always ready to criticize.

Slava knew it was impolite to stare, but he couldn't drag his eyes from her. He loved black women, and he'd read many times about the President's beautiful daughter, but he hadn't realized quite how lovely she was. She was almost as tall as him, which made her five feet ten, although he noticed she was wearing heels. Her hair was combed to one side with long curls hanging down to her shoulder. He had the urge to kiss her neck. It looked so elegant and fragile. She was wearing a satin evening gown and a diamond necklace with matching earrings. He didn't want to look down at her body in case she noticed and moved away to talk to somebody else, but unable to resist, he afforded himself a quick glimpse. He'd seen many pictures of her in various magazines, and what he'd liked most about her, was her beautiful shape. Her breasts looked heavy and inviting, and her hips and bottom were curved just as he liked. All the women back home in his social circle, were tall and slender, with little bust and no hips. He was bored by them. Octavia was a real woman with all the attributes he craved. In fact, he would never admit it, but whenever he'd seen her picture in a magazine or newspaper, he'd stare at it for as long as he could.

So what do you do Slava? I mean for a living?

My father wants me to be a career politician or a diplomat like him. I am studying politics and economics at Moscow University. Octavia noticed how his expression had changed when he'd mentioned his father's expectations.

Your father wants you to be a politician. Is that what you want as well?

No I want to sail, he said as his eyes lit up and his smile returned. I love yachts, or, in fact, any boat. Most of all I would like to sail around the world and design breathtaking yachts.