The Innocent Behind the Scandal

by Abby Green

  The car had pulled to a stop not far from the theatre. Zoe looked outside, welcoming the distraction. She could see water glinting under the moonlight. ‘Where are we?’

  Maks was enigmatic. ‘You’ll see.’

  He got out and came around to help her out of the car. Zoe sucked in a breath of surprise, all painful recent thoughts fading back where they belonged. There was a small boat with a glass roof bobbing on the canal. Candles flickered inside, and Zoe saw a table set for two. A waiter dressed in a suit. Waiting...

  ‘We’re going on a boat?’

  ‘A little late-night dinner while we take in the sights.’

  Zoe was speechless.

  Maks took her hand and led her down some steps, where a man helped her on board. She took off her sandals after wobbling precariously in her heels. The boat was small but enchanting. Maks was pulling out a chair, and bowed towards her like a maître d’. She sat down, and the boat starting moving gently along the canal as staff served them chilled champagne and a selection of Russian food.

  Zoe realised she was starving as she tried delicious kebabs, dumplings filled with meat, puff pastries filled with cheese and then, of course, the ubiquitous caviar on small pieces of crusty bread. It tasted salty and sharp and she washed it down with champagne.

  ‘Do you like it?’ Maks asked.

  Zoe wrinkled her nose. ‘I think it might grow on me.’

  She was feeling light-headed from the wine, and then dessert was served—delicious blinis filled with chocolate syrup.

  While they were winding their way along the canal Zoe asked about various landmarks and Maks told her what they were. One in particular caught her eye, an elaborately domed and turreted cathedral, floodlit.

  ‘That’s the Church of the Saviour on Spilled Blood. It’s where Tsar Alexander the Second was assassinated.’

  Zoe shivered at that gruesome image.

  ‘We’ll go and see it tomorrow. The interior has beautiful mosaics.’

  Her heart leapt. She ignored it. ‘Don’t you have meetings? Please don’t feel like you have to babysit me. I don’t mind looking around on my own.’

  * * *

  Once again Maks wondered what he was doing—actively upsetting his own hectic schedule—but the truth was that watching Zoe’s reaction at the ballet had been more engrossing than anything he’d experienced in a long time. He was used to people hiding their emotions or reactions. He was jaded and the people around him were jaded.

  ‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘It’s a fashion shoot tomorrow. I’m sure they’ll survive without me.’

  * * *

  When Zoe woke the next morning, dawn was breaking outside. She stretched in the massive bed. She was alone. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected last night, but she’d assumed Maks would expect her to go to bed with him.

  She’d certainly been feeling susceptible after that surprisingly thoughtful boat trip and dinner. When they’d got off the boat he’d insisted on carrying her to the car, because she’d still been barefoot. But when they’d returned to the hotel he’d delivered her to her door and said, ‘I’ll collect you for breakfast.’

  Zoe must have looked confused, or something worse, because he’d snaked a hand around her neck, his thumb brushing her jaw, and said, ‘We’re taking this slow, Zoe. There’s no need to rush.’

  She’d watched him walk away, totally conflicted and reeling at his unexpected chivalry, but also wondering why he wasn’t trying to rip her clothes off.

  Maybe he’d gone off her? Or maybe he was well aware of his effect on her and was priming her, so that when he did seduce her she’d be begging him.

  She turned and buried her face in the pillow and tried to ignore the ache of frustration in her lower belly—a wholly new sensation.

  She flipped over on her back again. With Dean it had been more about the connection they’d had since they were teenagers, in the same foster home. He’d been the first boy to kiss her. When she’d left Ireland she’d broken up with him, and it hadn’t been that much of a wrench. After all, they hadn’t even slept together. He’d pushed for it a couple of times, but something had always held her back.

  She’d been surprised at the level of affection she’d felt when he’d appeared in London, asking to see her. She knew now that she’d confused that emotion and her desire with a loneliness that she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge.

  And Dean had taken advantage of that to sneak under her skin. Convincing her that there was still something romantic...sexual between them. But, as had happened in the past, when he’d pushed for intimacy something inside her had clammed up. She hadn’t wanted it.

  He’d backed off the first couple of times, but then...that last night...he’d grown angry. Accused her of teasing him. Grown violent. Revealed his real reason for coming back into her life.

  Zoe shut the memory out.

  Dean was gone. Thankfully she’d managed to get rid of him before he’d done anything serious to her. But she wouldn’t forget his horrible, nasty words and the sense of betrayal that had taken her breath away. ‘Frigid, stingy bitch.’

  The phone by Zoe’s bed rang and she seized the opportunity for distraction.

  Maks. Her pulse skipped a beat.

  His voice was deep. Sexy. ‘Morning. Are you awake?’

  Zoe lay back, a delicious sizzle of anticipation in her gut. ‘I am now.’

  ‘Be ready in ten minutes. I’m taking you for breakfast.’

  She smiled into the phone. ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re very bossy?’

  ‘Frequently. Now, move.’

  * * *

  ‘These pyshki are the best in St Petersburg.’

  Zoe looked at the doughnuts. She had thought she was full, after the lavish breakfast served in one of St Petersburg’s most ornate and oldest cafés, but now her mouth watered again. If she wasn’t careful she’d have to be wheeled back to London.

  ‘Here, try one with the coffee.’

  Maks handed her a plate holding about five doughnuts and then a coffee. Zoe dutifully took a bite, and as the flaky sweet texture melted on her tongue she moaned. She took a sip of coffee—the perfect accompaniment to the sweetness.

  She looked at Maks, casual in dark jeans, top and jacket. His jaw was stubbled, as if he hadn’t been bothered to shave that day. It made him look more dangerous. Sexy.

  She helped herself to another small doughnut. ‘So, where to now?’

  She was surprised at how much she enjoyed just spending time with Maks. He was easy company for someone who made her insides knot with need whenever he looked at her.

  ‘I thought we could—’ He broke off and picked his ringing mobile phone out of an inside pocket. He answered it. ‘Yes?’ He frowned. ‘Okay, tell Pierre I’ll be right there.’

  ‘What’s up?’ Zoe asked.

  Maks made a face. ‘I have to go to the fashion shoot. Our very temperamental famous photographer is freaking out because his assistant has got a bug and couldn’t come in.’

  Zoe was shocked at the level of disappointment she felt. ‘Oh, that’s okay. You should be working anyway. I can go back and get my camera and look around the sites myself.’

  ‘Come with me. You said you were interested in fashion photography.’

  Zoe was shocked. ‘I couldn’t... I mean...really? Would that be okay?’

  Maks shrugged. ‘Why not? Probably be good for you to see an egotistical maestro in his natural habitat and use it as a lesson in how not to be.’

  On the way over to the shoot, excitement fizzed in Zoe’s belly. ‘Why do you hire people like this photographer if he’s so horrible?’

  ‘I didn’t want to hire him—the brand insisted. But I’m not suffering people like him for much longer. There’s no need to behave like a petulant child, no matter how talented you might be.’

  Zoe agreed.r />
  They arrived at a street that was cordoned off by Security, who let them in. Their driver parked up at the back of a long line of trucks and Winnebagos. There was even location catering. Zoe was totally intimidated by the sheer scale. For one fashion shoot!

  Maks held her hand and led her to the other end of the street, where it opened out into a small square circled by tall neo-classical buildings in varying pastel hues and elegantly crumbling splendour. Zoe appreciated the aesthetics immediately, and could see why this location had been chosen to shoot the models, who were wearing vibrantly modern monochromatic clothes.

  Maks went straight over to where a group was huddled around a tall man with long hair, who looked furious. He saw Maks.

  ‘About time, Marchetti. What are you going to do about this? I have no assistant! I can’t be expected to work without help.’

  Maks’s voice was completely relaxed, but a thread of undeniable steel ran through it and Zoe noticed how people’s eyes widened. ‘This is an unforeseen event, Pierre. How can we make it right and get on with the shoot?’

  ‘Get me an assistant! Right now!’

  Zoe had only the barest premonition before Maks squeezed her hand and said, ‘Pierre, I’d like you to meet Zoe Collins—your assistant for the day.’

  Zoe’s mouth dropped open. She looked at Maks, who was looking at the photographer, daring him to disagree. The other man looked at Zoe and sputtered, ‘But...who is she? Your latest girlfriend? Does she know one end of a camera from the other? This is out—’

  ‘Yes, she does. She’s very talented, actually, and actively looking for experience.’ Maks’s calm voice cut through the photographer’s outraged bluster. ‘So what will it be, Pierre? Are we going to delay the shoot further or will you let Zoe assist you? Do I need to remind you we only have this location for one day?’

  There was no doubting who was in control now.

  Pierre looked around, as if to find support, but everyone just looked fed up and eager to get started. Eventually he huffed and said, ‘Fine—but I’m warning you. If she can’t keep up, I’m leaving, and you can use her to take the shots. I’m sure the brand would love that.’

  Zoe heard Maks say something rude under his breath. Pierre was looking her up and down. He rattled off a list of things he needed and, knowing that this was an opportunity that wouldn’t come along again, Zoe let go of Maks’s hand and went over to where the equipment had been laid out.

  CHAPTER SIX

  PIERRE GARDIN HANDED Zoe a card. ‘If you’re ever looking for more work or experience, give my office a call.’

  Zoe bit back an urge to say, Thanks, but no thanks, and said, ‘Okay. And thank you for giving me a chance.’

  ‘You know your stuff. You say you’re self-taught?’

  Zoe nodded. ‘My father was a photographer.’

  ‘Who was he? I might have met him.’

  Before Zoe could avoid answering that question she felt a presence behind her. Maks. She’d been aware of him all day on the sidelines, watching carefully.

  ‘If you’re finished with Zoe?’

  Pierre looked at Maks, a twinkle in his eye. It was scary how he’d transformed from raging to benevolent—a temperamental maestro, indeed.

  ‘Sure, she’s all yours, Maks.’

  Maks took her hand and led her away. Zoe waved goodbye to the other crew and models, who had all been very sweet with her. She felt buoyed up, fizzing with energy.

  When they got back to Maks’s car and sat in the back she faced him. ‘Thank you so much for giving me that chance. It was terrifying...but amazing.’

  Maks’s mouth tipped up. ‘I’ve never seen Pierre conduct a shoot without having at least one tantrum directed at his assistant, but he couldn’t seem to find fault with you.’

  Zoe made a face. ‘That could have had something to do with your presence.’

  Maks shook his head. ‘You’re a natural, Zoe, and more qualified than you think. After today, do you still want to do it?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes. More than ever. Except...’ She trailed off, conscious that Maks might not really be all that interested in what she was saying.

  But he prompted her. ‘Except what?’

  ‘Except I’m not really interested in promoting the façade of perfection. I’d love to work with models who are unique and diverse. Promote a healthier ideal. Not just size, but skin colour, scars... Handicaps. I really admire the model Kat Winters.’

  Maks said, ‘She’s the supermodel who had the accident and lost her leg?’

  Zoe nodded. ‘Below the knee, yes. She’s inspirational.’

  Maks smiled. ‘I think the industry could benefit very much from someone like you. Perfection is boring.’

  Zoe felt self-conscious. She wanted to divert attention back onto Maks. ‘Did you always want to go into the family business? Did you have other ambitions?’

  * * *

  Maks looked at Zoe. He wasn’t used to people asking him such direct questions.

  As if sensing she’d overstepped, she blushed and said, ‘It’s okay, it’s none of my business—’

  But Maks took her hand, stopping her words. She looked at him with those huge eyes, still sparkling with excitement and wonder. Things he rarely saw in anyone any more. The realisation that he felt a level of intimacy with her when they hadn’t even slept together should make him uncomfortable. But it didn’t.

  He said, ‘For a long time I wanted nothing to do with the business. I hated my father that much. But I expended so much energy hating him and protecting my sister that I didn’t leave much space for figuring out what I wanted. When our father died, my brother Sharif called a meeting with Nikos and me. He made me realise that the business was now ours. And that we had a duty to rebuild the name with respect and honour—things that my father had decimated through greed and debauchery.’

  Maks’s mouth twisted.

  ‘Even though we didn’t grow up together, and I wouldn’t call us close, Sharif had done his research, and put us in positions that played to our strengths. Nikos took over the PR and hospitality side, and he gave me the fashion and brand side to work with. I think the fact that he wanted to work with us...trusted us...had more of an effect than either Nikos or I expected. Sharif could have taken over the company alone, but he didn’t. And I do enjoy what I do... I enjoy the challenge of dragging this company into the twenty-first century. It’s about so much more now than just image. Things are changing, and people like you will be at the forefront of that change.’

  Zoe’s eyes were wide. Maks felt a prickle of exposure. He’d never told anyone all that before. He’d never really articulated out loud what it had meant for his brother to show such trust in him.

  He realised the car had stopped outside the hotel. He hadn’t even noticed.

  Maks’s phone rang.

  Zoe blinked.

  Maks answered the call as he got out of the car and came around to help Zoe out. Her hand slid into his and fitted there in a way that had him wanting to drag her to a private space so he could shut out the world entirely and expose her need for him. He wanted to feel her under him, all around him, milking his body until he didn’t have to acknowledge that she did something to him that no other woman ever had.

  But it would have to wait.

  He made a face. ‘That was Sharif on the phone. I have to call him back and make a few other calls. I might be a while.’

  * * *

  Zoe battled a sense of disappointment that was mixed with relief. She hadn’t expected that conversation just now to reveal so much of herself, or to hear him reveal what he had. It made her feel as if a layer of skin had been pulled back.

  She said, as brightly as she could, ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll probably have an early night—the adrenalin is catching up with me.’

  When Zoe got back to her room she leant against
the door, taking a breath. Maks was so...distracting. All-consuming. He demanded nothing less than total investment. Even during the day today, when she’d been concentrating so hard on keeping Pierre happy, she’d been aware of him. And now she was actually exhausted. And yet at the same time still fizzing with energy.

  She ordered a light supper, hoping that might help dissipate the energy, but when she’d finished she felt the same. Tired but alive.

  She’d worked on her first photo shoot today!

  A sudden idea popped into her head and she changed into her running clothes. She realised it was too dark to head out onto the streets of an unfamiliar city, so she pulled her hair into a ponytail and went in search of the gym, which was in the basement of the hotel.

  At this time of the evening it was empty, and Zoe warmed up before heading towards a punchbag. She hated the gym, but she loved running and she loved boxing.

  After a solid ten minutes of throwing high kicks and punches at the bag, Zoe felt her muscles starting to burn and her face was hot. She hadn’t heard a sound, so when a voice came from behind her to say, ‘Fancy a sparring partner?’ she almost jumped out of her skin.

  She whirled around, breathing heavily. Maks was standing a few feet away, with a small towel around his neck, in sweatpants and a T-shirt that left little to the imagination.

  ‘Um...’ It was hard to speak when she was hyperventilating. ‘I need a break and some water...you go ahead.’

  On wobbly legs Zoe went over to a nearby water machine and took off her gloves, poured herself some water. She took a big sip before she dared to look around again. Maks was squaring up to the other punchbag, gloves on his hands.

  He said over his shoulder, ‘I rang your room but there was no answer, I figured you were asleep.’

  Zoe made some kind of incoherent breathless mumble in response and drank him in greedily while he wasn’t looking. Lord, but he was beautiful. All taut, coiled energy. Graceful, too, for such a big man. His technique was perfect—he was clearly experienced.