by Abby Green
‘I think that’s proved the point,’ he said.
Her brain felt sluggish. She felt undone. ‘The point...’
‘That there’s chemistry between us.’
Was that what it was called?
Zoe’s whole body was throbbing. She wanted Maks to kiss her again, to stop talking. She knew she didn’t want to think about what was happening here, because that would be way too scary.
He took a step back. Her belly lurched. ‘Where are you going?’
‘You want me to stay?’
‘I—’
She stopped. For a moment she’d almost said yes, and as the full realisation of that sank in—how quickly she’d forgotten what had happened the last time she’d allowed a man close—sanity cooled her heated brain.
‘No, I don’t want you to stay.’
‘Even if you said yes, I’d still leave.’
Zoe looked at him. She was surprised, and not liking the little voice that whispered inside her head. He’s different. This is different.
‘Why?’
Maks took a step closer again. ‘Because I can see that you’re not ready. You’re skittish. Something has happened to you. You don’t trust me.’
It took a few seconds for Zoe to absorb that, and when she did his words landed in her belly like a cold stone. ‘Something has happened to you. You don’t trust me.’ She felt totally exposed now. In a way that she’d promised herself she wouldn’t ever again.
Zoe folded her arms. ‘You think you see a lot, Mr Marchetti.’
He smiled, but it was rueful. ‘I’m good at reading people. A lesson I learnt at the hands of selfish and self-absorbed parents.’
She didn’t want to know that about him. She didn’t want to think of him and his sister dealing with their parents’ bitter divorce.
She went to the door and opened it.
Maks said from behind her, ‘Give me your phone.’
She turned around. ‘Why would I do that?’
‘Because this doesn’t end here. But I’m going to leave the ball in your court.’
Torn between wanting to shut down that arrogance and wanting to know what he meant to do, Zoe made a huffing sound and then went to her backpack and pulled out her phone. She handed it to Maks, who took it and punched in some numbers. He handed it back, and somehow she resisted the urge to check it. There was something about his confidence that was as irritating as it was seductive.
He went to the door. She felt that lurch again—as if something very primal inside her objected to him leaving.
She walked over. He was already on the other side of the door.
‘I look forward to hearing from you,’ he said.
Zoe held on to the door. ‘You might not hear from me at all.’
He looked at her for a long moment. ‘I think I will. And then you’ll tell me what happened to you.’
The thought of telling him of her humiliation made her go cold. It helped her to stiffen her spine and say, ‘Goodbye, Maks.’
He shook his head as he backed away, his mouth quirking up. ‘Ciao, Zoe.’
He turned, and he’d disappeared down the stairs before she could say anything else. She closed the door only after she’d heard the door close downstairs, and then the powerful throttle of his car’s engine.
She got ready for bed in a bit of a stupor, still slightly stunned at everything that had happened this evening.
She’d lost her job.
In fairness, it hadn’t exactly been her main source of income. Truth be told, she didn’t have a main source of income. She was an expert in doing lots of things and committing to none. Not even photography. Because committing to something meant showing some kind of vulnerability, risking a massive fail or, worse, pain and loss.
Zoe scowled at herself in the small bathroom mirror. And that was why she didn’t need to invite a man like Maks Marchetti into her life. Because he saw too much and he made her feel too much. And not just physically. That impulse she’d had to ask him to stay scared her even now. It had been so immediate. Visceral. And he was a stranger.
But you want him in a way that’s different—
She clamped down on painful memories. She’d confused desire with being able to trust someone before. But that kiss had blown any kind of understanding of desire she’d had before out of the water. What she’d experienced had been child’s play. This was the real deal. Earthy, raw, out of control. She knew instinctively that Maks Marchetti was a man who would demand nothing less than total surrender. And that was something Zoe couldn’t imagine giving. To anyone. It would ask too much of her.
She looked at herself critically. Pyjamas buttoned up to the neck. Face scrubbed so clean that her scars stood out in pink lines. Superficial scars that hid far deeper scars.
Maks Marchetti would soon forget all about a woman who had intrigued him just for a moment. She wouldn’t be using his number and he wouldn’t be knocking on her door again.
* * *
‘What?’ Maks growled at his assistant without turning around from where he stood at the window of his London office.
The city was spread out before him, with the Thames snaking between iconic buildings and under even more iconic bridges, but Maks couldn’t have cared less.
All that had consumed him for a week now was, Why the hell hasn’t she got in touch with me?
Zoe Collins. The woman he’d shared probably the most chaste kiss of his life with, and yet it had left an erotic imprint that lingered in his blood, waking him every night with his body aching for sexual fulfilment.
‘Um...boss, it’s the fact that you’re meant to be overseeing that shoot in New York at the moment...’
Maks turned around to face the young man. He arched a brow. ‘And clearly I’m not?’
Because he was loath to leave London in case she called. When he never normally made decisions based on a lover who wasn’t even a lover. Yet. The thought that she might never be a lover evoked an almost violent reaction inside him.
He would know her.
‘They’ve decided to reschedule and relocate to St Petersburg, in the hope that you can attend while you’re there for your meetings.’
Maks should feel slightly chastened by the fact that one of the world’s biggest fashion houses cared enough about his opinion to reschedule an advertising campaign to suit his schedule, but he didn’t. He was filled with a sense of resolve.
‘Tell them I’ll be there.’
And I won’t be alone.
No matter how he had to do it, he would have Zoe Collins by his side and in his bed.
* * *
Zoe packed her bag as the people left the classroom. One of the young women turned around at the door and came back, surprising Zoe with an impromptu hug.
Zoe hugged her back, and smiled. ‘What’s that for?’
‘Just to say thank you. You don’t know how much it means, you helping us find our way in this new life.’
Zoe blushed, embarrassed. ‘Don’t be daft. If I wasn’t here someone else would be.’
The girl shook her head. She was serious. Too serious. She’d seen awful things. She’d lost her entire family.
‘Maybe, Miss Collins. But you are the one here, helping us, so thank you.’
Zoe’s heart constricted as she watched the young woman in the headscarf walk out. She couldn’t imagine not being here to help these people. Teaching English to newly arrived immigrants was such a basic thing, and the sense of reward she got from it made her feel guilty enough that she was happy it was on a voluntary basis.
She was about to leave when her mobile phone pinged with a message. She frowned and picked it out of her bag. Not having close family or friends meant that she wasn’t used to receiving the casual messages everyone else took for granted.
She unlocked her phone to see
a text from...
Her heart stopped. Him.
Hi Zoe...
She texted back,
How do you have my number?
I made sure I called myself from your phone when I put in my number, so I knew I’d have it.
Zoe’s heart was palpitating. All week he’d haunted her waking and sleeping moments. A dozen times she’d almost deleted his number and then stopped herself at the last moment.
She typed back.
I would have called you if I was interested.
An answer came almost immediately.
Oh, you’re interested.
Zoe wanted to scowl, but it turned into a grudging smile. She couldn’t deny the rush of excitement. And also a treacherous sense of relief.
Before she could think of how to respond to that he sent another text.
I’m outside, waiting for you. Interesting place.
Zoe nearly dropped her phone. She looked up, suddenly terrified he’d be lounging in the doorway, smirking at her. But it was empty. He could hardly mean...
She walked out of the room with her bag, down the corridor of the local community centre. Not the prettiest building in the world, by any stretch of the imagination, and certainly not the kind of place for a man like—
He was here.
Zoe stepped outside the main doors to see Maks Marchetti, lounging against the same low-slung car he’d been driving a week ago. Except this time he was dressed more casually, wearing dark trousers and a dark grey long-sleeved top. She didn’t have to inspect it to guess that it was probably cashmere, and it clung to his muscles far too lovingly, leaving little to the imagination.
Zoe felt self-conscious in her worn jeans and T-shirt, worn under an even more worn V-necked jumper. Scuffed trainers.
She walked over. ‘What are you doing here?’ She sounded accusing and winced inwardly. This man precipitated extreme reactions in her.
‘I got bored waiting for you to call and sought you out. You’d mentioned teaching English, and it wasn’t hard to find out where some local classes were listed.’
Zoe hated to admit that she was impressed. ‘You could have just called me.’
He shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t have been as much fun.’
She looked around the very ordinary car park in disbelief. ‘As much fun as visiting East London again? You need to get out more.’
Maks chuckled. ‘Perhaps I do.’
He stood up straight, reminding Zoe how tall he was. How powerful. How that mouth had felt on hers. Hot. A wave of desire made her legs feel momentarily weak.
‘I’ve been invited to the opening of a photography exhibition this evening. I thought you might like to come with me.’
Zoe hadn’t expected him to say that. Curiosity got the better of her. ‘What exhibition?’
‘Taylor Cartwright’s latest work.’
Zoe sucked in a breath at this mention of one of America’s foremost landscape photographers, who had died recently, and said, almost to herself, ‘It’s been sold out for months...’
‘Would you like to come?’
She was torn between jumping at the opportunity and her wariness at the thought of spending more time with a man who made her skin prickle with heat and a million other disturbing things.
Zoe looked at him suspiciously. ‘And after the exhibition? Then what?’
‘That’s up to you. I’d like to take you for dinner, maybe a drink, or I can drop you home.’
Remembering that kiss, Zoe said quickly, ‘I can make my own way home.’
‘Whatever you wish.’
* * *
Maks looked at the woman in front of him. If his blood hadn’t been humming just from being near her again he might have wondered why she had such a unique effect on him, but he wasn’t capable of wondering about anything right now. He felt as if he’d scored a victory merely because she hadn’t said no, and because she hadn’t ruled out dinner or a drink.
The fact that he hadn’t had to work so hard to seduce a woman ever was also not something he cared to think about right now.
Zoe couldn’t have been less dressed to impress, but all he could see were those huge aquamarine eyes. Her hair was down, which he was guessing was her default, so she could hide behind it if she wanted to. It made him want to pull it back, so he could see her face more clearly. He barely noticed her scars. He was more distracted by her soft lips, and the erotic memory of how they’d opened under his mouth, the taste of her...
He cursed silently when his body responded.
‘Okay. I’d like to come, thank you.’
Maks almost didn’t hear her, he was trying so hard to get his body under control. ‘Good. That’s...good.’
Zoe made a face, and she suddenly looked shy. ‘Would you mind if I stopped by my flat to change, though? Just for five minutes.’
Maks shook his head. ‘Of course not. Let’s go.’
A couple of hours later he was wondering why he’d been surprised when Zoe literally had only been in her flat for five minutes before re-emerging.
He looked at her across the gallery.
She’d changed into figure-hugging leather trousers and a soft V-necked cream sweater, under a dark grey jacket. Clothes designed not to draw attention. To blend in. Like the way she used that fall of honey-blonde hair to hide her face—most of the time.
She had a tomboyish style that made him want to see her dressed in long falls of silk and satin that would cling to her body and reveal those slender curves. That pale skin.
She was staring intently at a large photograph of Yosemite, the national park in America. His mouth thinned. Another first—a woman who wasn’t utterly absorbed with him. Either feigning it or otherwise.
As if reading his mind, the woman beside him said, ‘I like her already. She’s not clinging to your arm as if she can’t walk by herself or simpering about the latest nail varnish colours.’
Maks looked at his sister and said dryly, ‘Sash, if I wasn’t so emotionally barren you could really hurt me sometimes.’
His sister snorted derisively but Maks ignored her. It had been a bad idea to ask her to come. She was too astute for her own good.
* * *
Zoe knew she couldn’t keep pretending that the photos held more fascination for her than the man she could see behind her through the crowd, reflected in the glass over the black and white image.
He was talking to a woman. Tall, slim. A dart of something hit Zoe in the solar plexus. A jolt of possessiveness. Which was ridiculous. They’d kissed once! He was obviously only interested because she wasn’t falling into his arms like an overripe plum.
Steeling herself, Zoe turned around and walked back over towards Maks, whose dark grey gaze was unnervingly intent on her.
She took in the woman beside him. Something about her was familiar, but she knew she’d never seen her before. She was wearing nondescript clothes, a shirt and long skirt, as if she was trying to hide. Long hair...dark blonde. And she wore glasses. But Zoe realised that woman was extraordinarily beautiful. She was just trying to hide it.
Something about that resonated inside Zoe. The sense of a kindred spirit.
Maks gestured to the woman. ‘Zoe, I’d like you to meet my sister, Sasha.’
His sister. A knot unclenched inside Zoe.
She put out her hand, smiled. ‘Nice to meet you.’
Sasha shook her hand, smiled, and Zoe was nearly bowled backwards. She wasn’t just beautiful. She was stunning.
‘You too,’ she said. ‘I was just telling my darling brother—’
‘Sash, didn’t you say you had someone to meet?’
His sister’s grey eyes danced mischievously. ‘No...but I can take a hint. I hope we meet again, Zoe.’
Zoe watched her walk away, fading into the crowd. She turned to Maks. ‘Yo
u didn’t have to send her away.’
Maks took her arm. ‘Oh, yes, I did. She was bound to embarrass me—it’s her life’s mission.’
Zoe’s heart clenched. She’d had a younger brother. He would have been twenty-three. Would he have ribbed her like Sasha did Maks? Her heart ached.
Maks was looking down at her. ‘Ready to go?’
Zoe nodded quickly, afraid he’d see the sudden melancholy in her eyes. She worked so hard not to think of those things. ‘Thank you for this. I enjoyed seeing the photos.’
She didn’t mention that Taylor Cartwright had been a mentor of her father’s when he’d been young, travelling around North America and taking his first photographs.
Maks led her out of the gallery onto the street. Summer was tipping into autumn and there was the faintest chill in the evening air, a sign of things to come.
Zoe shivered slightly. Immediately Maks said, ‘Are you cold?’
His solicitude melted the cold around her heart. She shook her head. ‘No, I’m fine.’
‘So, can I take you for dinner? There’s a place not far from here.’
Seeing Maks with his sister and touching on the past again had made Zoe feel vulnerable. She didn’t want to be alone. But she knew that was just an excuse.
She looked up at Maks. ‘Sure, I’d like that.’
He smiled and, like his sister, it transformed his face, turning him from gorgeous into devastating.
He took her hand and led her to his car. She found that her usual anxiety around being in a car didn’t surface when she was with him. He drove so competently, not trying to show off. He didn’t need to. He oozed confidence.
Within ten minutes, Maks was driving down a quiet mews street.
Zoe frowned. ‘Where are we?’
‘Mayfair.’
He pulled to a stop outside one of the houses. It had dark brick and black-framed windows. It looked discreet and exclusive. She wondered if this was another private club.
As if reading her mind, Maks said, ‘This is my London townhouse.’
Zoe looked at him. She opened her mouth, but then she realised that he hadn’t actually specified where he was bringing her. He’d just said, ‘There’s a place...’
