Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
TATIANA
W hat the hell is happening? It’s as if I have fallen into a black hole and it’s choking me. I can’t breathe. Rodion’s words are playing on repeat in my mind.
‘Do not let the Bolshoi down.’
I fail to see what any of this has to do with the Bolshoi. When Mr. Romanov told me what is expected of me, I wanted to scream—to cry and to refuse. I did none of those things because it would have got me nowhere. I understand that at least, but if he thinks I’m going along with this, then he’s in for a shock.
I’m not a puppet. I’m not a fool either and I must plan my escape carefully because there is a man stalking me who may well be the one to catch me when I run.
A shiver of apprehension reminds me what’s at stake. I am surrounded by enemies, including the man beside me who gives nothing away. He isn’t pretending and appears to be as trapped as I am. Could we work together to stop this from happening? I’m guessing he is as unhappy about it as I am, but can I trust him?
Trust no one.
That has always been my motto and has served me well until now. It’s how I’ve risen to the position I’m in currently. I play the part, do as I’m told and accept that at this point in my life, I am controlled. But I see another life beckoning me closer over the horizon. We travel in the ballet and I like what I see in the countries that I have always been warned about.
Freedom.
To be free is to be the richest person alive, and that is my goal. To be rich in freedom and I won’t get that married to this robot.
So, I say nothing and observe. It’s always served me well in the past and as we walk toward the room where my destiny lies, I ignore the trappings of wealth and history that many would marvel at.
None of it interests me. My tastes are more basic—simple even. I crave a far off land bathed in sunlight with a small house set by an ocean. I want to experience the wind in my hair and the sand running through my toes. To hear the cry of freedom from the birds overhead and the power of the waves crashing to the shore. To surround myself with the beauty of nature that has nothing to prove and everything to teach us. It will not be controlled, no matter how much man tries to dominate. It is a free spirit, an entity, and the most desirable phenomenon possible.
I will be free.
I will make sure of it, but for now I must play the game in order to win it.
Learn it, study it and excel at it and when the moment is right—end it.
As we reach the door, I’m shocked when Mr. Romanov reaches for my hand and whispers, “Play nicely, Tatiana, we are in love, remember.”
In love. I want to laugh out loud. With a man like him. Never!
As my hand rests in his, I resist the fear. At the moment these men are holding the winning cards and I would be foolish to throw my hand in so early, so I nod coolly.“What do I call you?”
“Titus.” He says simply, and I nod.
“Okay, let’s this get this charade over with.”
The door opens as if by magic and as we step inside the magnificent reception room, I am blinded by wealth. The floor alone is so polished it makes me fear for my health because one tumble on the slippery floor would end my career more effectively than Rodion can, so I grip my companion’s hand a little tighter.
Chandeliers sparkle overhead, reflected in the marble all around us, the walls intricately decorated with brilliance, designed to impress, seduce and draw the observer under its spell. To catch off-guard, disarm and lure into a world where the only choice is survival.
“Ah, the happy couple.”
Dozens of eyes swivel in our direction and, for a woman who is used to close scrutiny, it still unnerves me. On the stage, I am playing a part and I must adopt the same head space for this. Here I am playing a fiancée. Somebody who should be the happiest they’ve ever been.
I am playing a fool.
A misguided, desperate fool but if that is what they want, I am happy to oblige.
I paste a false smile on my face and approach them with my mask set firmly in place. They will never see what’s happening inside my head because to let them in will lead to my destruction.
Mr. Fedorov is the first to congratulate us.
“Titus and Tatiana. The perfect couple, soon to be the envy of the world and a glorious example of modern Russia. Welcome to your engagement party.”
His demonic gaze penetrates my soul, but I merely smile politely as Titus says, “We are honored to be here, Mr. Fedorov.”
Boris nods, his eagle eyes missing nothing, and he smiles, a sinister, all seeing, evil smirk, that tells me he always gets what he wants, willingly, or unwillingly.
“Come. I will introduce you to our great leader. He is extremely pleased with the outcome of your pairing.”
As we follow him, I steady my beating heart because it’s as if the chains are snapping in place with every step I take.
We reach our great leader who turns and regards us, his cool, enigmatic gaze giving away none of his thoughts.
He is a closed book—a locked book and one that not many get to read.
“Titus, Tatiana, I was pleased to learn of your marriage. You will be a good example to the world of all that is great about our country. Don’t let us down.”
His meaning is clear as his eyes flash with warning. It’s as if a huge snake is wrapping its body around mine, slowly increasing the pressure so I struggle to breathe. Against my better judgment I squeeze Titus’s hand and attempt to steady myself, my heart beating rapidly as I smile politely.
He turns, effectively ending the conversation and moves away to ruin another person’s life and Boris nods his approval.
“You have the president’s seal of approval. We will issue a press release announcing the engagement to the world. Prepare for many questions and accept all invitations. You are about to enter a storm. Make certain you are dressed for it.”
He effectively dismissed us with his words, leaving us to move through the rest of the guests, accepting their congratulations with their words, but their eyes tell a different story. They all know what this is. An act, a charade and I still don’t know why.
Through it all, Titus Romanov holds my hand and says all the right things at the right time. We are supplied with champagne and canapés and act as if we are happy to be here. It’s a good job acting is my profession because one thing I must never let them see is how utterly terrified I am inside.