Page 22 of Poisoned Roses

I am a respectable businessman with an unacceptable hobby and soon to be the golden boy of Russia. Leonardo Raikin crossed me at his peril and joins a long line of others whose lives I ruined for stepping into my vision and attempting to take what was mine.

He definitely won’t be the last one.

CHAPTER 12

TATIANA

It’s as if I’ve been awake for a hundred years and finally got to sleep soundly in the most luxurious bed I ever believed possible.

It’s ten am when I wake and as I glance at the clock by the bed, fear causes me to sit bolt upright.

I’m late.

That is my first thought and then, as I note my surroundings, confusion takes over before it all comes back to me. Why I’m here and what happened last night.

Revulsion weaves its destructive path through my body as I remember Leo’s gruesome sneer, the burn of his hands on my skin, the pain of his blow to my face and the clutch of his hand on my neck.

Thank God for the men who stormed into the room and saved me. Thank God for Titus Romanov, because when they brought me here, he never questioned me. He allowed me to speak with just a comforting hand in mine and understanding in his eyes.

He is a kind man underneath the dark exterior. A handsome, soul shattering, unbelievable man who, for some reason is to be my husband.

According to the gossip show I watched last night, he is. Will it ever happen? Do I want it to?

It doesn’t help that I’m late for work and as I sprint out of bed, I cast a reluctant gaze over the disturbed sheets, the imprint of my head still pressed into the feather pillow.

The shower revives me and as I pull on my robe; I realize I only have the costume I arrived here in last night, reminding me that Nadia still has my ring.

At least I can trust her. I’m sure it will be safe and Titus didn’t appear bothered by the fact it’s missing.

Today I’ll head to the Bolshoi and apologize for being late and once the ring is back on my finger, I will breathe easier knowing that everything is right where it belongs.

There is a small breakfast waiting for me in the adjoining sitting room and as I take advantage of the warm croissants and bowl of fresh fruit salad, I marvel that people actually live like this.

The coffee is hot and strong, just how I like it and there is even a lemon tea if I prefer instead.

It’s the perfect meal and even more perfect is the fact I’m alone to take it. I can relax having my own space, rather than make polite conversation with a man who is an enigma to me.

A gentle knock at the door causes me to say hesitantly, “Come in.”

I blink at the woman standing there who is dressed in a smart shift dress, clutching an array of garments on hangers.

“Good morning, Miss Pavlov, I am Suzannah Blake, Mr. Romanov’s personal assistant. He asked me to select some suitable clothing for you in the absence of your own wardrobe.”

“He did?” I blink in surprise as she sets the hangers on the couch and smiles. “Please ask if you require a different size or any other item of clothing not provided. I believe he has asked for the rest of your belongings to be delivered later today, but for now these should suffice.”

“Excuse me.” I hesitate as she makes to leave, and she turns, her soft smile rather disarming.

“I–well–I’m sorry, but I’m not sure what is going on. I wasn’t aware I was moving here. What about my apartment?”

She rolls her eyes. “That doesn’t surprise me at all.”

She heads my way and takes the seat opposite and smiles sympathetically.

“That’s typical of Mr. Romanov. Well, from what I understand, you are moving here for your own safety. There is a car waiting to take you to the Bolshoi and when you return, the same car will bring you home. This evening you will be dining at Palazzo with Mr. Romanov and a business associate, along with his wife, and when you leave there, you will share a box at the opera with Boris Fedorov.”

A flicker of distaste passes across her face and she inhales deeply.

“So, if you need anything at all, just call.” She hands me a small white card with her details on and smiles.

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