Page 67 of Poisoned Roses

He slumps back in his seat, his eyes glassy and unseeing as the medics rush in and I turn to them and shake my head, pretending to care as I say, “He’s gone. He had a heart attack. It must have been the shock.”

They crowd around him and attempt to revive him, but I already know that is impossible. The same poison that killed my father is now running through Boris Fedorov’s fading veins and as I walk away, the red roses lie on a carpet around me as a silent tribute.

So many people are dead because of these men and their souls are dancing with joy as their murderer’s tainted souls rise above the crushed roses with the most jagged thorns.

I slip out of the room to find Mikhail waiting and as we head to the car, he nods, his dark eyes gleaming with the same emotion that I share.

We take our place in the car as the sirens sound around us and as the door closes, he exhales deeply.

“Thank fuck for that.”

He laughs, a deadly sound with no emotion as he whispers, “That was the most satisfying kill of my life.”

I’m aware he is not referring to the bullet through the decoy president’s brain. That delight was awarded to Nikolai Barinov. The government assassin who believed he was acting on theorders of Boris Fedorov. The man he has served for close to forty years. He will be arrested and tried, but will never make it to prison. He murdered the woman my father loved and this was revenge for that. Nikolai’s body will join the rest of the men who dared to believe they could take a man’s life over and over again. They controlled my father from the beginning and tried to control my family, and revenge is the sweetest taste any man can have.

“Were you seen?” I have to ask and Mikhail shakes his head, the dark expression in his eyes a delight to see.

“He was alone. The guards did a good job of making sure the staff were allowed to view the wedding and as I held to the gun to his head, I whispered our father’s name in his ear. If he was conscious that was the last name he heard before he joined the devil in hell.”

“The ambulance?” I ask, checking the plan worked, and he nods.

“Valentin made the switch. The real president is now at the hospital where he will be declared dead. The decoy is on his way to the incinerator.”

We had two ambulances standing by, both staffed by our men in disguise. When they were required, the first team went to the reception and dealt with the decoy while the second team moved the real president from his private hospital room at the Kremlin into the ambulance.

When he arrives at the hospital, he will be declared dead, courtesy of the same gunshot wound to his head that Barinov fired. Any subsequent investigation will be intercepted and re-written, but I am confident that nobody will ever discover what really happened today. Boris himself made sure any documentation was disposed of and the man who has been in a coma for several years already, effectively died a long time ago. Boris himself ran the country using the decoy as a front man.Now Russia is in chaos and an election will be forced. The old threat gone as our country rebuilds her identity.

“Congratulations, Titus.”

Mikhail’s words are not meant for my marriage, and I lean forward and reach for the bottle of vodka and two glasses that are well placed in the limousine.

I fill them and, handing one to Mikhail, I say with rare emotion, “To Andrei Romanov. May your soul now rest in peace.”

CHAPTER 38

TATIANA

When Titus walked through the door, I couldn’t get to him fast enough. As his strong arms wrapped around me, he buried his face in my hair and I whispered, “Thank God.”

Nothing else matters now. We are married and we are safe. When I left him, I was so fearful, even though Ana and Simeon reassured me that everything would be okay.

I didn’t miss the edge to their words or their anxious glances when they thought I wasn’t looking.

Now I am back in his arms everything is right with my world.

His family watch on and there is a somber atmosphere replacing the lighthearted one of earlier.

He leans down and whispers, “It’s over, Tia.”

I hear rare emotion in his voice and something is telling me that whatever revenge he engineered has worked. I was never in any doubt. He told me as much himself. He plans everything down to the last detail and leaves nothing to chance.

We all congregate in the living area as the staff hands out glasses of champagne for the ladies and something stronger for the men.

As we sit together, one collective family, I sense the relief all around me.

Grace is worried, I can tell, and she asks, fearfully, “What happened?”

“Orlov is dead.” Titus says simply and her soft gasp is followed by Mikhail’s harsh, “Along with Boris Fedorov.”

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