The Innocent Behind the Scandal

by Abby Green

  ‘I’m saying that you being a virgin is not a turn-off.’

  Quite the opposite, in fact. The thought of being the first man to witness Zoe in the throes of passion was seriously sexy.

  ‘But,’ he added carefully, ‘I’m not interested in a relationship. I don’t do happy-ever-afters, and after my experience with my parents I have no desire to recreate that toxic scenario in marriage. You need to know that.’

  Zoe looked at him for a long moment. There was no discernible expression on her face, which unnerved him. He’d believed her to be as easy to read as a book.

  She seemed to hug her arms around herself even tighter and she said, ‘That’s the last thing I’m looking for. Believe me.’

  He did. There was something stripped away in her voice, leaving it bare and compelling.

  Then she said, ‘I think I’d like to go home now.’

  Maks was surprised at the strength of the feeling of rejection that rose up inside him at the thought of her leaving, but he forced himself to say, ‘Sure. I’d take you home, but I’m over the limit. I’ll have Hamish drop you back.’

  * * *

  The fact that Maks was willing to let her leave so easily made Zoe feel all at once relieved and disappointed. She’d just humiliated herself spectacularly by revealing she’d been abused in a relationship, and then told Maks how inexperienced she was. And, damn him, he hadn’t reacted the way she might have expected.

  She was learning that this man didn’t do anything she expected.

  But the fact that he was so willing to let her go told her that he was done. As he’d said, he didn’t do relationships. And he obviously suspected that, as a virgin, she’d want more from her first lover. Even though she’d denied it.

  Zoe just wanted to leave now, and take her humiliation with her. She was about to protest that she didn’t need a lift but, as if connected with his boss telepathically, Hamish appeared and started to put on a light puffer jacket.

  ‘It’s no problem to give you a lift home, Zoe.’

  She couldn’t help feeling that Hamish had done this before—sprung into action to help Maks dispose of a woman he was no longer interested in. She followed Hamish and turned at the front door to face Maks. She felt awkward. Why had she blurted all that out? She could have made something up.

  She forced a smile in Maks’s general direction. ‘Thank you for this evening. I had a nice time. It was lovely to meet your sister—she’s nice.’

  ‘She liked you too. Goodnight, Zoe.’

  Zoe had to restrain an impulse to study his face and imprint it on her brain for ever. And somehow she knew she didn’t need to do that. He would be hard to forget.

  After Hamish had dropped her at her flat, Zoe sat on her bed feeling deflated. Hollow. She opened up her laptop and did what she’d been reluctant to do before, because that would have meant she was interested.

  She searched online for Maks Marchetti.

  As she might have expected, compared to his two brothers, not much came up for Maks at all. There was a handful of pictures of him with women, all stunningly beautiful and accomplished. Which made his interest in Zoe even more unlikely.

  There were no salacious kiss-and-tell stories—unlike a recent one involving his older brother Sharif. Nor were there screaming headlines as there were about his other brother settling down, speculating about how long it would last.

  Zoe saw some pictures of Nikos with his new wife. She was a tall redhead, and Zoe realised that she looked familiar. She was the woman Maks had been talking to at the fashion event where she’d met him again.

  She shuddered to think of being in the public eye like that and felt sympathy for Nikos’s wife, who didn’t look completely comfortable in the photos.

  There were some older pictures of his parents—his father was tall and dark, very masculine. His mother was tall, almost taller than his father, and very, very beautiful. Blonde with grey eyes. Maks’s grey eyes.

  Zoe winced when she saw the hundreds of images of Maks and Sasha when they were younger. Coming out of a palatial villa in Rome. Going to school with security guards. Skiing. On beaches. Nowhere had been safe from the paparazzi, it would seem.

  One picture caught Zoe’s eye. Maks was in swimming trunks, on a beach. He looked about sixteen, tall and rangy, his body only hinting at the adult power and strength to come. He had his hand out towards whoever was taking the picture, his face twisted in anger.

  Zoe saw there was a girl behind him, looking fearful, embarrassed, in a one-piece swimsuit, all gangly limbs and braces on her teeth. She looked hunted. Sasha.

  No wonder he hated the paparazzi so much.

  But, compared to his brothers and his parents, Maks had since become a veritable recluse. Evidently he and his sister did all they could to avoid the limelight now, and who could blame them if they’d been hounded like that?

  Zoe pushed the laptop away and lay back on her bed. She’d effectively turned Maks off tonight, even if he had been enough of a gentleman to say otherwise.

  She told herself she was relieved. Maks was a force of nature. A man who would demand nothing less than everything she had to give. Yet she couldn’t ignore the ache at the thought of never seeing him again.

  Zoe realised now that she’d never been entirely honest with herself where her ex-boyfriend was concerned. She’d convinced herself that she’d desired him, but it hadn’t been desire. Because now she knew how that felt.

  It had been loneliness. Pure and simple. A weak need for intimacy. Weak, because she’d always vowed not to let anyone close enough to become important to her.

  She’d only let Dean close because she’d known subconsciously that he couldn’t affect her. But Maks did affect her. So it was a good thing that it was over before it had started.

  A wave of heat went through her body just from thinking about how it had felt to be in his arms. His mouth on her flesh. And it hadn’t just been the physical response he’d unleashed—it had been the other, more tender responses. Emotional responses. The instinctive need to open up. Trust him.

  Zoe got under the covers of her bed and pulled a pillow over her head. As if that could help her ignore the sense of loss. She told herself over and over again that it was a good thing Maks wasn’t interested in pursuing this—her—further, until she finally fell asleep.

  When she woke, bleary-eyed, the next morning, to the persistent silent buzzing of her phone she had to shake her head to make sure she wasn’t still dreaming. Numerous missed calls from Maks and three texts.

  I’m outside, let me in.

  Zoe? Are you there?

  Zoe, if you don’t let me in in the next ten minutes I’m calling the police.

  Zoe scrambled to call him back. ‘I’m here... I’m here.’

  ‘I have coffee and cakes.’

  ‘What are you doing here? I thought...’ She trailed off.

  ‘Can we discuss this over coffee? And by the way it’s raining. I’m getting wet out here.’

  Zoe looked out of the window. The rain was lashing. She put down the phone and got up, and pressed the buzzer to release the door downstairs. She heard it open and close. Footsteps. And then Maks appeared outside her door. Huge. Broad. And very wet. Drops of water clung to his hair and his short jacket. He was holding cups of takeaway coffee and a bag of what looked like pastries.

  His scent hit her nostrils. Musky and masculine. Expensive. She really wasn’t dreaming. He was here. Twelve hours after she’d thought he’d said good riddance.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  The smell of fresh coffee hit Zoe’s nostrils then and she almost groaned. How did he know she couldn’t function before her first coffee in the morning?

  She stood back and he walked in and she saw the extent of how wet he was.

  ‘I’ll get you a towel.’

  She went to her tiny
airing cupboard and took out a towel, bringing it back and handing it to Maks, who had put the coffee and cakes on her table.

  ‘Thanks.’

  He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over a chair. Zoe took in the fact that he was wearing worn jeans and a light long-sleeved top. Muscles moved as he rubbed his head briskly.

  She became very aware of her loose pyjama bottoms and singlet top, putting her arms around her chest. ‘I’ll just...get changed.’

  ‘Here, take this with you.’ Maks handed her one of the coffees.

  Zoe grabbed it and ran, still in shock that he was here. When she was in her bedroom—mere feet away, but thankfully behind a door—she breathed out and took a sip of coffee, hoping that might restore a sense of reality.

  It didn’t. She had the quickest shower on record, dried her hair and dressed in a pair of jeans and a loose, oversized shirt.

  When she went back out to the living area Maks had the photo of her family in his hand. They were all pulling funny faces. Her insides clenched. Hard.

  He looked around. ‘This was you and your family?’

  She nodded, longing to take the picture from him.

  He put it back on the shelf. ‘What happened after the crash? Who brought you up?’

  Zoe kept her voice neutral. ‘I went into foster care. Both my parents were only children with deceased parents. There was a great-aunt on my father’s side, but she didn’t want to take me in.’

  ‘That must have been rough.’

  Zoe shrugged and avoided Maks’s eye. ‘I don’t remember much about that time, to be honest. I was lucky. I only had two foster homes and they were kind families. I know some kids who went through many more and had bad experiences.’

  Like Dean, her ex. Zoe clamped down on thinking about him. It only invited comparisons to Maks and the knowledge that Maks was so much more dangerous for all sorts of different reasons.

  She looked at him. ‘What are you doing here? I thought last night... I thought I wouldn’t see you again.’

  He frowned. ‘Why?’

  Zoe’s face grew hot. ‘Because I’m not experienced.’

  ‘I told you that didn’t matter to me. I thought you needed space. I didn’t want to crowd you after you told me what happened to you.’ He walked closer. ‘Make no mistake, Zoe. I want you. That hasn’t changed. And I’ve told you that I’m not interested in anything permanent. But if you don’t want to explore this chemistry between us, tell me now and I’ll walk away. I don’t beg and I don’t play games.’

  I’m not interested in anything permanent.

  That should reassure Zoe, because of the lessons she’d learnt at the hands of personal tragedy and also her ex-boyfriend.

  Her head told her to say she wasn’t interested. But first, that would be a lie. And second... The fact that Maks had turned up here this morning, that he still wanted her, in spite of her lack of experience... She couldn’t fight her overriding impulse to stay in his orbit for a little longer. In spite of knowing better.

  She took a breath, felt her heart pounding wildly. ‘I don’t want you to walk away.’ Yet.

  * * *

  Maks had to hide the rush of triumph. He closed the distance between them, but stopped just short of touching Zoe. ‘I have to go to St Petersburg today for a few days,’ he said. ‘For meetings and to oversee a fashion shoot. Come with me.’

  Maks saw the shock on Zoe’s face.

  ‘St Petersburg? That’s in Russia.’

  He bit back a smile. ‘That’s geographically correct.’

  She made a face. ‘But I can’t just...leave.’

  ‘You have a passport, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘What commitments do you have this week?’

  She folded her arms and looked at him. ‘One is to find a new job.’

  The novelty of a woman who wasn’t rushing to acquiesce sent a thrill of anticipation through him. ‘All the more reason to come away with me for a few days. I owe you for getting you fired.’

  Zoe suddenly looked less spiky. ‘I do actually have other commitments. I mind a neighbour’s child a couple of days a week, and I do some work for a contracting firm, cleaning offices.’

  Maks shook his head. ‘I can arrange for your neighbour to have substitute childcare. And as for the office-cleaning job... I refuse to believe that’s what you need to do to survive, Zoe. You are young, beautiful and talented. You can have the world at your feet if you want.’

  * * *

  Zoe’s chest tightened at Maks’s words. She knew very well why she preferred to operate on the fringes, and she felt the sting of shame that she didn’t have the courage to take up more space. How was it that this man she barely knew, who was from a world elevated well above hers, could see something in her that she didn’t even dare to articulate to herself? It was unnerving.

  She admitted sheepishly, ‘I don’t have any cleaning shifts lined up this week.’ She saw a glint of what looked like triumph in Maks’s eye and said quickly, ‘But I won’t go anywhere until I know that Sally’s childcare is sorted. I can’t let her down.’

  * * *

  ‘More champagne, Miss Collins?’

  Zoe looked up. She’d been staring out of the window at a carpet of fluffy white clouds under a blue sky. She shook her head at the steward. ‘No, thanks, I’m okay.’

  But she wasn’t okay. She was still reeling from the speed with which Maks had managed to secure childcare for her neighbour—childcare that she was happy with—and had then spirited Zoe and her one small suitcase out of her shabby top-floor flat, across London to a private airfield and this sleek silver jet, which was now flying somewhere high above Poland, according to the pilot.

  Maks was in a seat across the aisle, long legs spread in front of him while he simultaneously spoke on his phone and typed into his laptop. He’d excused himself when they’d got on board, saying, ‘I have some calls to catch up on—make yourself comfortable.’

  Zoe couldn’t imagine ever feeling comfortable in Maks’s presence. Fizzing with electricity. Alive with anticipation. Reckless. Heady... The champagne wasn’t helping her to feel any less reckless. Or heady. And definitely not comfortable.

  What exactly had she even agreed to? An affair? Just because she’d said she’d come with him? Would he expect payment in kind in bed?

  Her mind shied away from that. Maks was too controlled, too sophisticated. Too proud. As he’d said from the beginning, she intrigued him, and she was sure that sense of intrigue would fade very quickly once he’d spent more time with her. Once he’d slept with her.

  Zoe shifted in her seat as a pulse between her legs throbbed at the very thought of him—

  ‘What are you thinking about? You look almost...guilty.’

  Zoe’s head swivelled around to Maks so quickly she almost got whiplash. She hadn’t realised he’d stopped talking on the phone and had put away his laptop. She felt guilty now—which was ridiculous.

  ‘I’m not thinking about anything special.’

  The pulse between her legs throbbed again, as if to mock her, and she pressed her thighs together. Maks’s gaze dropped for a second, before resting on her face again. She scowled. This ability of his to read her mind was seriously irritating.

  Wanting to get his attention off her far too obvious thoughts, she said, ‘So what are these meetings in St Petersburg?’

  Maks sat back. ‘The Marchetti Group has an office in Moscow, but we’re interested in the untapped potential of Russian designers, a lot of whom originate in St Petersburg. We’re interested in developing the city as another growing fashion hub—not just for designers but for brands.’

  ‘Where was your mother from?’

  ‘Originally St Petersburg, but she moved to Moscow with her father after her mother died and he remarried.’

  Zoe thought
of the pictures she’d seen. ‘She is very beautiful.’

  Maks’s face became impassive. ‘Her whole life revolves around her looks. They’re as much of a currency to her as money is.’

  ‘Your sister is beautiful too.’

  Maks’s gaze narrowed on Zoe. ‘You noticed that she hides it away?’

  Zoe nodded.

  Maks’s mouth twisted. ‘Our mother couldn’t handle having a beautiful daughter who might eclipse her, so she did her best to undermine Sasha’s confidence. It’s probably the worst thing she’s done.’

  Zoe felt that tug of empathy for his sister again. ‘Maybe she’ll surprise you and come out of the shadows when she’s ready.’

  Maks looked at her and his eyes saw far too much. He said, ‘Maybe she will.’ And they both knew he wasn’t talking about his sister.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ZOE WALKED THROUGH the series of palatial rooms that made up her suite at the Grand Central St Petersburg Hotel, right in the centre of the city. As soon as they’d arrived at the hotel, to an effusive welcome from the manager, it had become clear that she would have her own suite. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but she was ashamed to admit that she’d been feeling slightly trepidatious that Maks would have booked them into the same room.

  They were in adjoining suites, though. So, while she had her own space, she was very conscious that a mere door separated them.

  The drive from the airport to the hotel had taken them past some of the city’s stupendously beautiful domed cathedrals and palaces. Zoe itched to explore, and see the city through the lens of her camera, which she’d brought with her. But for now she was enthralled by the vast suite, and if hers was this impressive she could only imagine what Maks’s must be like.

  She found the bathroom, laid out in cool marble and gold furnishings that should have looked tacky but didn’t. And beside the bathroom there was a dressing room. The rails and drawers were empty and her small suitcase looked a bit pathetic. It highlighted how out of her depth she was in this situation. She had no idea how to play the part of a rich man’s...companion.