Page 45 of Poisoned Roses

“Thank you.”

I almost believe he is going to say something because he hesitates before clearing his throat. “Good night, Tia.”

“Goodnight, Titus.”

As he leaves with no softened smile in my direction or a lingering gaze, I watch the door long after it closes with a deep sense of sadness. I was right. This is merely business for him and the pleasure was just a by-product of that. Titus Romanov could have any woman he wants. I just happened to be the one beside him at the time.

I secure the bolts in place and turn, staring around my small apartment with tears in my eyes. I wanted to come home. To familiarity and to reset my emotions. Then why do I wish I was with him now?

When the coldfingers of the morning air wake me, it’s exactly one hour after I finally fell asleep. Nothing in my life makes sense anymore, and I spent a fitful night tossing in my bed as Istruggled to make sense of it all. Leo, Titus, Nadia and Boris all corrupted my thoughts. I have fallen down a dark hole, holding the hand of the one man who has ever caused my heart to beat faster and my body to fall apart under his touch.

I was screaming inside for his touch last night as I writhed under the sheets, regretting my bold stand for dignity. To hell with that when it’s the wild abandonment I crave instead, knowing what he was planning; what I would finally learn the secret of. I sabotaged my own happiness out of pride, and I hated my decision as my body mourned the loss of more pleasure than it could stand.

He haunted my vision when I closed my eyes and I almost gave in and called him to come and get me. To make up something that frightened me so he would charge over here to rescue the princess. Then I hated my thoughts and my head was back in charge, telling me I had made the right decision and to hell with them all.

I shower in the small cramped space before pulling on my thick leggings and jumper, preparing to take the train to the Bolshoi. I always grab a coffee on the way and drink it on the train while I merge with the rest of civilization as everyone heads to work as standard.

However, when I step outside my apartment, a black car is waiting for me and the driver standing by the door nods with respect.

“Good morning, Miss Pavlov. I am here to make sure you reach your destination safely.”

I’m almost tempted to decline, but the wind is bitter today and snow is forecast. The car is warm and comfortable and so I forego my principles for my own reasons and smile gratefully.

“Thank you.”

The scent of leather greets me and I wonder if this car is new. It certainly has that feeling about it, and I’m happy to discover the seats are heated as I settle into it.

I lean back and allow myself a moment’s thought about the man who owns it and picture him at his dining table in his luxurious apartment, dressed for business, dressed to take over the world.

I’m shocked when the car stops and the window opens and a voice says, “What can I get you?”

I blink when I notice the drive through coffee shop and I hate to admit how touched I am.

“Um, an espresso please and–” I tap on the partition and as the glass slides down, I ask, “What can I get you?”

“I’m good, but thank you for asking.” Is his polite response and I smile at the woman who is staring with awe into the car.

“That will be all, thank you.”

“Any pastries?”

I consider it because I haven’t eaten at all and my stomach is reminding me of that, but such luxuries are costly and I don’t want to admit I’m struggling this month for spare cash.

“It’s fine. Thank you.”

The driver interrupts.

“One of everything, please.”

He hands the woman his credit card, and she grins, the envy in her expression directed firmly on me.

As our order is fulfilled at the next window, the scent of baked products fills the car and as I make to hand the driver the bag, he says gruffly, “They are for you—boss’s orders.”

“For me?” I’m stunned and say quickly, “Please, I can’t eat all of this. Will you help me out?”

‘’I’m good, thanks.” He replies courteously and as we pull away into the rush hour traffic, the partition rises and I lean backwith a soft smile on my face because this is a pleasure I wouldn’t have missed for the world.

CHAPTER 25

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