Page 11 of Poisoned Roses

I lean back in my seat and he adds, “A placeholder name. I haven’t even got the card number because the software encrypts it and provides only the last four digits.”

“Have you briefed them?” I ask, knowing that Simeon would have covered every avenue, and he replies, “As soon as they receive another order, one of our men will deliver it.”

“Good.”

It doesn’t help identify the person sending them, but it ensures that Tatiana doesn’t receive any more.

“Good job.” I offer my praise because I’m aware Simeon would have worked through the night for this.

“Any further instructions?” A loud yawn accompanies the question and I bark, “Get some sleep. You earned it.”

“Thanks, boss.”

He cuts the call before I can think of anything else to ask, and I smile. Only Simeon would cut the call before me and, rather than be annoyed about that, I celebrate it.

Just as I celebrated Tia’s obvious disapproval last night and merely found it refreshing. Some may even call it challenging. I glance at the screen at the numerous images I called up and study the woman herself as she does what she does best. Dance.

Whoever is stalking her is about to get a huge shock because as soon as they are found, I’m calling them in and it’s been a while since I interrogated a prisoner and I’m in the right mood to make it hurt.

CHAPTER 6

TATIANA

Life goes on. At least I try to tell myself that as I head to the Bolshoi for the usual rehearsal before a show. Despite the fact we have done this for six weeks already, every night Rodion insists we work even harder to iron out any inconsistencies or mistakes.

He is a hard taskmaster. We all fear him and trip over our ballet pumps to do what he asks. I’m used to that. Madam Saskiawas worse. I hated her with a passion, but she forced moves out of me I never knew I was capable of and I reluctantly credit her with my success. Without her and her studio, I wouldn’t be where I am now and as I walk into the building, I wonder if that was really such a good thing.

The diamond ring is weighing heavily on my finger, but I dare not take it off. I dread to think how much it cost and if I lost it, I would never be able to repay Titus.

When I picture him, a shiver passes through me because he terrifies me. There is something so enigmatically delicious about the man and I am still working out whether I should be happy or terrified about our engagement.

I don’t consider it a marriage. Surely it won’t get that far. I’m aware this is a game, a means to an end, and I doubt that will involve me walking up the aisle.

But I have a part to play and I already heard the headlines on the radio this morning.

It has been announced to the world that last night Titus Romanov has taken a bride who goes by the name of Tatiana Pavlov.

It was on every channel I searched through, on the televisions of the windows I passed on my way to work. Newspaper headlines blared at me from the stands on street corners, but I pulled up my coat collar and looked down at the pavement.

Ballet royalty meets Russian royaltyare the headlines, along withthe new King and Queen of Russia.

There is excitement in the air; a general buzz of expectation and if it wasn’t with me in the main part, I would be mildly interested too.

The first person I see when I head through the door is the anxious face of Nadia, who catches my arm as I pass.

“Tia, oh my God. Is it true?”

We walk briskly to my dressing room and I lower my voice. “If you mean the engagement, then yes, it’s true.”

“But how? You’ve just met.” Tears are gathering in her eyes and she wipes them away with a worried frown. “What will it mean?”

“It means–” A loud voice booms out and we stop with a start as Rodion heads our way with a face like thunder.

“It means that you have ruined everything.”

A few of the other dancers and workers stop what they are doing as he screams, “What are you thinking, Tatiana? You have no business to marry. You are a prima ballerina; it will ruin you.”

He yells at the crowd, “Leave us! Get back to work!”

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