The Innocent Behind The Scandal - Abby Green Page 0,47

back into the suite, pick up her bag and disappear into the bathroom. He rubbed at his chest absently. The raw emotion in her eyes just now had hit him squarely in the solar plexus. Normally, any hint of emotion made him shut down in response, but he hadn’t been able to ignore Zoe. And she’d been the one to push him away.

He turned back to the view of the canal, barely registering it. Which only made him think of Zoe’s comment about his jadedness.

Porca miseria. What the hell was going on with him? It was as if as soon as he’d laid eyes on Zoe something inside him had realigned into a new configuration.

Immediately an inner voice said, Ridiculous. It’s physical desire, pure and simple. Unprecedented. Raw. Insatiable. But just desire. A chemical reaction. Not emotion.

He heard a sound behind him and turned around. She’d changed into cropped jeans and a fresh shirt. Her scuffed trainers. Hair down. Minimal make-up. She looked young and fresh and achingly beautiful. Without even trying.

She was holding her camera and lifted it up. ‘I might go out and take some pictures. You probably have meetings to attend?’

Her dogged independence made Maks chafe, when he usually abhorred a lover trying to monopolise his attention. Something rogue inside him made him say, ‘Actually, I’m not under pressure today. I’ll come with you.’

Zoe couldn’t stop the rush of pleasure, even though a moment ago she’d actually been relishing the thought of some space from Maks. He saw too much, and he made her feel too much, but now she felt as giddy as a kid again.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Unless you don’t want me to come with you?’

Zoe just managed to refrain from rolling her eyes at that suggestion. ‘No, I’d like it.’

Several hours later, Zoe was drunk again. But not on anything more than Venice, some pasta followed by gelato, and Maks. He absolutely belonged in this milieu, against the dramatically beautiful backdrop of such an ancient and iconic city.

She’d taken a sneaky snap of him on a bridge, and she’d bet money that he’d been a Venetian prince in another lifetime. Albeit one in faded jeans that were moulded to his powerful thighs and taut behind and a dark polo shirt that did little to disguise the lean musculature of his chest.

And aviator glasses that made him look like he’d just stepped out of Vogue Italia for men.

Zoe sighed. Whatever anomalous moment or thing had led to Maks finding her attractive, she was sure it wouldn’t last for much longer. He turned to her and held out his hand and Zoe’s heart constricted.

She was in so much trouble.

As she took his hand and let him lead her into the labyrinthine streets, she knew that against all her best intentions and instincts she’d done the thing that she feared most in the world. She’d fallen in love with Maks. And she knew now that whatever she’d believed she’d felt for Dean had been nothing in comparison. Less than nothing. It had been driven by loneliness, and the fact that she’d known him from her past.

This had nothing to do with loneliness or weakness. It was wild, untameable and elemental. And she knew that whatever pain she’d felt before, even when she’d lost her entire family, would pale into insignificance compared to what Maks would do to her. And she was afraid it was already too late.

Maks looked at Zoe where she stood in the small osteria near one of Venice’s many bridges. She sipped at a small aperitif. He noticed men looking at her and instinctively moved closer. He’d never felt possessive before.

Zoe looked up at him. ‘What was the house that you grew up in like?’

Maks thought of her evocative description of watching storms rolling in over the sea and felt wistful. ‘Not like yours. No view of the sea. It was a grand palazzo in Rome. Beautiful, but austere. We weren’t allowed to touch things because they were all priceless antiques. Once, Sasha and I were playing and she knocked over a vase. I’m pretty sure it was Ming.’

Zoe put a hand over her mouth, eyes wide, sparkling.

‘Our father came out of his study and saw it. He took off his leather belt and asked who was responsible.’

Zoe’s hand came down from her mouth. Now she looked horrified.

‘Sasha stepped forward. She was nine. I think she thought he wouldn’t dare, if he knew it had been her fault. But I knew my father by then.