Page 67 of Weeping Roses

I am so deep in thought I jump when Valentin crouches down beside the bath and stares at me with a lustful gleam in his eye.

“I have an idea.” He says simply and the heat from the hot water is no match for the burst of color that heats my face as I hope to God it involves being naked with him.

“What idea?”

I sit up, the water spilling from my breasts, causing him to drag his eyes the length of me and growl, “We are getting married.”

For a second, I believe I have water in my ears because surely he didn’t say what I think he did.

“Excuse me?”

My eyes are wide as I wait for the real words to reveal themselves and, if anything, his eyes darken and he says huskily, “You are going to be my wife. Tonight.”

My mouth drops open and yet no words come out. Did I fall asleep in this bath? Am I drowning and hallucinating as my life fades into blissful, imaginary worlds?

He stands and says firmly, “Get dressed. A smart white dress will suffice. Artem is arranging the registrar who will come to the house. You have one hour to get ready.”

He moves away and I say quickly, “But I haven’t said yes.”

He stops, but he doesn’t turn around and fires back. “It wasn’t a request.”

I smile as he repeats the sentence he used to get me in the car at my aunt’s funeral and as the door closes softly behind him, I am left wondering what the hell just happened.

I’m getting married. He didn’t even ask, just told me. I’m not surprised, but I am concerned. Of course I am because marriage, to him, to this life, their mafia-ish world and the dangers it brings, is enough to keep Aunt Veronica’s ghost from ever resting in peace.

Marriage!

To Valentin Romanov!

I hug my knees to my chest as I sit in the bath and rather than be extremely concerned right now, my heart is light and fluttering like a caged bird in a cattery.

I’m getting married.

In one hour’s time.

I will be Mrs. Pollyanna Romanov.

The tears trickle down my face as my heart struggles to keep up. He meant it. He wants to marry me, but why? Why the urgency and why now? It’s so unexpected and I’m convinced there is something I’m missing. But marriage to Valentin. Whatever his reasons are, I couldn’t say no if I tried.

One hour to the second, I make my way out of the room dressed in a simple white silk dress and satin heels. The lingerie is kissing parts of me I never knew existed and despite the rush, I took care with my hair and make-up.

This is my wedding day. I never expected to have one and definitely not to this man. I’m not sure why, but it’s almost as if my parents are beside me on either side as I walk along the landing toward the stately staircase that dominates the hallway.

I am wearing a beautiful silver necklace that drops into the valley of my breasts and a matching bracelet. My fingers are bare and I wonder what the ring will look like on my wedding finger. I will be joined to him for as long as he says so and I’m in no doubt about that. Valentin is following his own agenda here, and I doubt it includes the word love.

Whatever his reasons are, it probably concerns the mystery we are currently caught up in and yet none of that matters except for the cold hard facts. I’m going to be his wife and despite everything, I am more than happy about that.

I’m surprised to see Artem standing at the bottom of the staircase, holding a beautiful bunch of red roses. They are absolutely huge and remind me of the roses we tossed into my aunt’s open grave. It’s strangely fitting and my eye is drawn to the stems, which brings a wry smile to my face. They are covered in the sharpest thorns, just like the man I’m about to marry and strangely, the perfect choice for what is happening now.

Artem offers me his arm, saying respectfully, “Allow me to give you away, Polly.”

“Really?” My eyes fill with tears as he offers me a reassuring smile.

“In the absence of her father, no woman should be alone on her journey from one life to the next. It will be my honor to take his place.”

As I hold his arm, I smile at him gratefully. “I appreciate it, Artem.”

A flicker of sympathy crosses his eyes and then he surprises me by whispering, “Valentin is a good man. Be patient with him.”

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