Chapter 35
CHAPTER 35
TITUS
I ’m not sure what a wedding is supposed to feel like, but today is important for one reason alone.
Unfinished business.
It’s always business. It was business that brought Tia into my life and it is business that will assure our future is a bright one.
The rest can wait. Revenge is what’s important now and as I pull on my suit and adjust my tie, I stare at the man in the mirror and set my mood accordingly.
Simeon is watching and I catch his eye in the reflection and nod. No words needed as he turns and leaves, the battle lines already drawn.
I make my way to the car, my brothers already in place and if I have any nerves, they are left firmly behind me.
When I reach the Kremlin, I am shown through to a chamber where Boris Fedorov is waiting, unusually alone.
“Titus.”
His warm smile belies the madness it disguises, and he clenches my hand in an iron fist and says in a low voice, “I am pleased. The plan is working. Your name has already been selected as the candidate in the next election. You will be assured of victory.”
I smile, acting happy with the outcome of his plotting, and he pours a shot of vodka into two glasses and hands one to me.
“Zanas to us.”
I repeat the toast, downing the shot of courage in one gulp.
He nods with satisfaction and points to the closed door.
“We should take our places. The world is primed and the cameras are rolling. It’s time.”
As I follow him through to the great hall where the guests are waiting, my heart is heavy with the thirst for revenge. We will have one shot at this and I am assured of our success because we have planned it right down to the last detail.
As I wait, I have no nerves. Why would I? Marriage is merely another contract and I’m well acquainted with them. This one is no different. I have planned for it, thought it through and carried out the relevant risk assessment. My bride is perfect and a delightful surprise. My family is in position and all that I’m waiting for now is her arrival.
Exactly on the hour, there is a general hum of excitement as the music chords reveal the bride is imminent. I wait by the doorway, my men stationed around me, the security of the Kremlin also alert to hostility. This is the most closely guarded fortress and now the threat has been extinguished concerning Tia, I can relax knowing she is going nowhere.
However, there is still my father’s revenge. My family’s revenge and that ends today.
I note the softening of the priest’s expression and turn, eager for the first glimpse of my wife. I am not disappointed.
Tatiana Pavlov is a star. A beautiful glittering star, and that is exactly who walks toward me now. Her blonde hair is pulled loosely behind her, held together by diamond clips. She walks with confidence and none of the fear she should and her gown sparkles as if the fairy godmother herself bestowed her magic on it. It’s a beautiful white silk creation that has a life of its own as it swirls around her shapely waist. Intricate white embroidery is studded with diamonds, and the matching pendant that drops between the valley of her breasts catches the lights as she walks.
I have never seen a more beautiful bride and I swallow the surprising lump in my throat. It’s as if nothing else matters but this moment.
Our moment.
Her eyes are fixed firmly on me as she draws close and they shimmer with unshed tears of happiness, judging by her soft smile.
I reach for her on autopilot and breathe a sigh of relief when my hand closes around hers, drawing her toward me, keeping her safe.
Her gentle smile is rewarded by a similar one from me, and the staring crowd ceases to exist. It is only us in the presence of God’s servant now and as he hands us both a lit candle, the flames flicker between us, dancing with delight at something that was always meant to happen.
I am in no doubt about that. Fate has rewarded me and God only knows why, but in this moment, for once in my life, I am unworthy of what I am about to receive.
Throughout the prayers, I stare into her stunning eyes and she doesn’t flinch. If anything, her hunger matches my own.
After the prayers are concluded, Valentin and Polly step forward and hand the priest our rings and as he places them on our right hands, I note her eyes glittering with emotion. There is no engagement ring already adorning her delicate finger. That is a sore subject that may never be repaired. It doesn’t matter. My bride doesn’t require jewels to make her sparkle. She does that on her own without any manufactured help.
The priest leads us to the center of the church where it amuses me to stand on a piece of rose-colored fabric which symbolizes our entry into a new life. The irony isn’t lost on me. Roses are what began this journey, and it appears they will end it. Everywhere I look are red roses. On every surface, in the hands of the guests and decorating the backs of the chairs. Blood-red roses with thorns. That was my request and the traditional rose-colored fabric is merely the icing on the cake.
We publicly profess that we are marrying of our own free will and have not promised ourselves to any other and Tia’s voice is loud and confident as she declares that to the world. Our wedding is being televised to the crowds in Saint Peter’s Square along with the rest of Russia, so the world can watch us commit to one another. The prima ballerina marrying the next potential ruler of Russia.
Fuck that.
After more prayers, the priest orders the crowns to be held above our heads by Valentin and Polly. They were chosen as the only other married couple in our family. The perfect choice for this tradition. As they stand behind us we share a cup of wine and I love how Tia’s eyes hold mine the entire time. She is so beautiful, soft and elegant with a strength I admire and will serve her well as my wife. I’m aware it won’t be easy for her being married to me. I’m withdrawn, surly and unemotional. She is not.
The priest wraps his stole around our joined hands and we are followed by Valentin and Polly, who are still holding our crowns. We circle three times around the analogon on which the Gospel book is placed, effectively symbolizing the pilgrimage of wedded life.
Then we head to the front of the room where, in a break from tradition, the civil ceremony will be conducted. As we approach, mama and Alexei step forward holding bread and salt and as we pass them by, we take our positions for the exchange of the rings.
The ceremony takes a further ten minutes and I am eager to get this over with because I can’t wait a minute more for Tia to become my wife.
When we are pronounced husband and wife, a ripple of applause echoes around the church and as we head outside, the car is waiting with an escort of the deadliest kind. Our tour of the city will be uninterrupted and the traditional photographs of historical landmarks will be taken along with several members of the family at various points along the route.
As the car door closes, I reach for Tia, my hand gently tracing a path down her angelic face, my heart strangely full.
“Mrs. Romanov.” I whisper, loving the meaning behind my words and her eyes sparkle with happiness as she replies, “Mr. Romanov.”
I dip my lips to taste my wife for the first time and as our tongues slowly tangle together, I lace my fingers with hers. The wedding rings a proud symbol of our union.
I have a wife now.
A beautiful, captivating, deliciously sexy wife, and rather than this moment being a business one, I’m shocked to learn it’s the most emotional one of my life.