Page 66 of Poisoned Roses

Equally, Irina Mashkov has been invaluable and I’m grateful how she smoothed my path into society by way of her friendship. Most of all, though, is my acceptance by the Romanov family. They aremyfamily now and I am more than happy about that.

Titus grips my hand as the first toast is announced and as we stand, my heart is beating faster, although I don’t know why. Boris Fedorov stands to do the honor and raises his glass, signifying for the rest of the guests to do the same.

They down the shot and shout ‘Gorko’ meaning bitter and Titus turns to me and my heart flutters at the dark desire in his eyes as he wraps his hand around my waist and pulls me close, his other hand around my head as he crushes his lips to mine.

We kiss in front of the world. A declaration of our love laid out bare for everyone to witness. This kiss must traditionally last an eternity. The shot and subsequent toast of the bitter liquid means the couple must kiss to counteract the bitterness. The longer their kiss lasts, the longer and happier their marriage will be and Titus is apparently intent on making this kiss last forever.

His strong fingers tangle in my hair as he deepens the kiss, the calls from the guests fading away into the background as he declares his ownership. His arm tightens and I can’t move as he commands my full attention.

It’s as if we are alone. What happened that brought us here a distant memory. None of that matters now—not to me, anyway. All that matters is our future, and I intend on making it a long one.

I am a ballerina. It was all I wasuntil I met him. Dancing was my life, but that has all changed now. Titus Romanov is my life and I take my marriage vows seriously. I am kissing my husband and what began as an arrangement became destiny.

When we finally break apart I am breathless and the cheers from the guests lifts my heart. This is a happy time. It settles around me like an old friend. I am accepted.Weare accepted, and I am touched to see many smiling, familiar faces around us as they celebrate our marriage. The Bolshoi are here on a rare day off, Rodion looking on like the proud father he professes to be. My new friends, new family and strangers who wish us well and I’m surprised if not a little shocked when a hush falls on the gathering and Titus tenses beside me as Denislav Orlov, our feared president, stands and raises his glass.

We all follow his lead and his dark tones cause me to shiver as he offers a few words.

“I have known Titus Romanov his entire life. His father, Andrei, wasa close personal friend of mine who sadly couldn’t be here today. Taken before his time, but never forgotten.”

I note the grave expressions on the faces of the Romanov family, their grief etched in their expressions as they remember their father. Titus squeezes my hand in a painful grasp and I’m not sure what is happening right now, but as the guest lifts their glasses, Denislav offers the customary toast to the family of the bride and groom. “To Andrei Romanov–”

He doesn’t get to finish as a shot rings out and chaos follows. Screams echo around the room as the guests run for cover. I am pulled away by Simeon and two of the guards as Titus is pulled in another direction.

My screams are swallowed up by the deafening noise of fear, the guests causing commotion and chaos; time standing still as the happy event descends into madness.

There is no time to register what’s happening as Ana is pulled along with me and we are ushered away from the crowds and out through a side door where a car is waiting. As I am pushed into the car, Ana joins me and as the door slams she says calmly, “May his soul rot in fucking hell.”

CHAPTER 37

TITUS

Ihave no time to think and a calmness settles over me as my mind switches to the job at hand.

As planned, Simeon and Ana are responsible for protecting Tia and getting her to safety while I carry out my family’s revenge. Arman is responsible for mama and they will already have left along with the other members of our ever-growing family.

It happens so quickly everything goes on around me because my gaze is firmly fixed on two men. One of whom is lying on the ground with a bullet through his brain.

The Kremlin guards do their job and Denislav Orlov is protected by a wall of security away from prying eyes as Boris shouts orders. I note his ashen features and the sweat pouring from his brow and I watch with morbid fascination as he attempts to take charge. The stretcher arrives and as he issues his instructions, it’s as if I am a bystander watching the scene from a movie.

The room is cleared and as the body of our president is whisked to the waiting ambulance, I hang back for the most anticipated kill of my life.

“Titus.” He gasps as he wipes the sweat away from his brow, the room now empty except for a few of his men. Mine are carrying out my orders and I shake my head as he stumbles against the table and reaches out to steady himself.

“I don’t feel so good.”

He is sweating profusely and I shout to his men loudly, “Call a doctor! I believe Mr. Fedorov may be having a heart attack.”

I act concerned and rush to his side, guiding him into a nearby chair and loosening the tie around his thick neck.

He clutches his chest as I yell, “Now!”

His men react and soon there are only four of us in the room and I bend down to his ear, so only he can hear me and whisper, “How does it feel to be poisoned in your own home, Boris? The place where you are assured of safety. To realize your life is slipping away despite the steps you took to keep your enemies out. To know that all you have plotted and planned for is slipping through your fingers. To be betrayed by your closest friends, who were always your enemies in disguise. Hating they have won, and you have lost.”

Realization dawns in the fog of his consciousness as he battles to breathe, speech one of the first things to shut down.

His discarded shot glass mingles with the others that were dropped on the floor the second the shot was fired, handed to him by one of my men disguised as a waiter. The poisoned chalice, if you like.

His eyes glitter as he clutches his chest, his breathing ragged and getting fainter by the second. I stare into his eyes the entire time as his life slips away, emotion clutching at my heart as I avenge my father’s death.

---