A Bride for Kolovsky

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘God, no,’ Lavinia said immediately. ‘I’d all but given up on Mum by then—I still gave her some money for Rachael, but it all went on gin. I was looking for another job. This one, though, paid far more than I’d dreamed. It was a Godsend.’ She caught his eyes. ‘I know I haven’t made the best impression, but I really do need this job—now more than ever. Two years as Assistant PA, a recent promotion to PA…’ She gave a tight smile. ‘Well, it beats an unemployed ex-stripper.’

  ‘Have you taken legal advice?’

  ‘What can a lawyer do?’ Lavinia asked. ‘It’s up to the authorities.’

  ‘A lawyer can ask questions.’ Zakahr thought for a moment. ‘You say Kevin is good with his sons?’ Lavinia nodded.

  ‘So why not Rachael?’

  ‘Maybe he prefers sons…’ Lavinia started, then changed her mind. ‘He seems to dote on the new baby, though, and she’s a little girl.’

  ‘Get advice.’

  Lavinia rolled her eyes. It was all very well for Zakahr, with his billions, to suggest a lawyer. ‘I’ll just keep working on Ms Hewitt!’ She smiled over to him, but Zakahr didn’t smile back. In fact he was annoyed—not with Lavinia, but with his brothers, with his so-called family.

  Hell, he’d known Lavinia a couple of days and already knew her story. She’d been Aleksi’s lover—surely he should have sorted this out for her? And what about Nina? They had lawyers galore at Kolovsky—surely someone could have stepped in?

  ‘You need to speak to someone,’ Zakahr said, reluctant to be dragged into a problem that wasn’t his, but unable to stay quiet.

  ‘What I need,’ Lavinia corrected, ‘is to keep my job. So, thank you for listening, and I promise after a good night’s sleep I’ll be back to my usual self!’

  He rather liked her unusual self! Still, that wasn’t the issue.

  ‘Listen to me, Lavinia. You can’t deal with this without a lawyer.’

  ‘I am dealing with it,’ she insisted. ‘I know the system well enough—Ms Hewitt was my own case worker years ago. You know, it really is a shame you can’t choose your family!’ Maybe she should just stay quiet, not admit that she knew, but Lavinia didn’t work well being subtle, and frankly she’d had enough of playing games. ‘Zakahr—I know who you are.’

  ‘You shouldn’t listen to gossip.’

  ‘Everyone’s too scared to gossip about you,’ Lavinia said. ‘I was there when Aleksi confronted Nina with the truth that you are in fact her son.’

  ‘Was,’ Zakahr corrected.

  ‘Are,’ Lavinia said.

  ‘They are not my family.’

  ‘So why are you here?’ Lavinia challenged. ‘If you want nothing to do with them, why are you here?’

  ‘To claim what is rightfully mine,’ Zakahr lied; he was hardly going to tell her of his intention to destroy it.

  ‘You could talk to her…’ Lavinia knew she was venturing into dangerous territory—knew this was absolutely not her place—but Nina’s devastation was real. ‘At least hear what she has to say…’

  ‘I can forgive tardiness, I can forgive rudeness, and I can accept that in some things for now you know better.’ His voice was like ice. ‘But don’t ever try to advise me on my family.’

  ‘Fine,’ Lavinia said. ‘But what gives you the right to advise on mine?’

  ‘I’m right,’ Zakahr snapped.

  ‘So am I!’ She reached for her bag.

  Zakahr sat for a moment, unable to believe she knew—that that was all she had to say on the subject. Conversation was not something Zakahr often pursued, but despite the difficult subject matter, despite broaching topics that were completely out of bounds, he was enjoying her company. Except Lavinia was looking at her watch.

  ‘I really have to go home.’

  ‘I’ll take you now. I’ll ring for my driver,’ Zakahr said, deciding it would be nice to see where she lived. Only Lavinia wouldn’t hear of it.

  ‘I’m fine to drive.’

  They walked through the streets, both in silence, back towards the darkening offices.

  ‘What did she say?’ It was Zakahr who broke the silence—curious despite himself. ‘What did Nina say when she found out I was her son?’

  ‘She screamed—wailed.’ Lavinia didn’t soften the brutal details of that day. ‘It was one of the saddest things I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘She doesn’t deserve sympathy.’

  ‘She wasn’t asking for it,’ Lavinia said.

  To Zakahr it felt strange to be talking about this. For so long it had been private knowledge. In the last few weeks it had come to the fore, with harsh words spoken with his so-called family, but now, like a cool breeze, Lavinia had swept into the most closed area of his life, and to be walking at eight p.m., to be talking about that which was never discussed, with a woman he had only just met, was as unfamiliar as it was refreshing.

  She challenged him—made him question his own thoughts…duplicated them on occasion.

  ‘Maybe you should hear what she has to say.’ She was gentle rather than probing, but it touched the rawest of nerves.

  ‘There’s nothing to talk about with her—you yourself cut ties with your own mother.’

  ‘No,’ Lavinia corrected. ‘I simply gave up trying to change her.’

  Zakahr didn’t want to think about it. Zakahr, as they reached the staff car park, wanted instead the easy solution.

  Lavinia was incredibly pretty.

  Her mouth, devoid of lipstick, was full and plump, and despite a few hours’ sleep in the office still her body seeped with exhaustion. He thought how nice it would be to take her back to his hotel.

  How much nicer for her, Zakahr thought, rather than driving home, to come back to his luxurious suite, to be pampered.

  Sex, for Zakahr, was the equivalent of benzodiazepine. It helped one sleep, and when the bottle ran out it was easily replaced. He had no qualms about one-night stands, one-week stands…. He caught a waft of her fragrance. Maybe, he realised, here was a woman who could hold his interest for a month.

  ‘Thank you.’ She smiled up at him as they reached her car. ‘It’s been really nice to talk.’

  ‘We can talk some more.’

  There was an invitation there, and Lavinia’s body reacted to it—whether it was embarrassment at sleeping the afternoon away, or just that it had been so pleasant to actually talk about her problems, for a while there her guard had been down and she’d simply enjoyed his company. But there was a knot in her stomach as she faced him. Not the knot of anxiety that was familiar these days, but a knot far lower in her body, which tightened as she stood there. Her mouth, which had chatted easily all evening, felt now as if it were made of rubber as she tried to ignore his thinly veiled offer.

  ‘I need my bed!’ Lavinia said, then corrected herself. ‘Bath and then bed!’

  Zakahr was about to agree—in fact that was exactly what he had in mind—but he knew women, knew how to be subtle, knew exactly what he was doing… He lowered his head. A slow, soft kiss, a teasing taste, and then bath and bed would be arranged—except at his hotel.

  Only Lavinia had other ideas.

  It took a second to register her lips on his cheek, the feel of that plump mouth on his skin, saying goodbye as she might to any friend—a fleeting exchange after a pleasant evening.

  ‘Thanks again.’ Lavinia climbed into her car, hid her blush with her hair as she leant forward and put the key in the ignition. ‘I’ll see you in the morning. Have a good night.’

  Lavinia drove out of the car park on autopilot, put in her card and willed the boom gate to rise, willed herself not to look in the rearview mirror, fighting a sudden urge to screech the car into reverse. So badly she wanted to go to him. She had felt rather than heard his invitation, and even if her mind had said no her body had felt more than inclined to accept.

  How?

  Lavinia turned into the city street and met a red traffic light. Now she looked in the rearview mirror, seeing not herself but her image—the
woman Zakahr thought he saw.

  What would he think if he knew the truth? That this outwardly assured, flirty woman had no experience with men—that even his casual kiss would be her first?

  Lavinia was an extremely skilled flirt.

  Her mother had taught her well, and now it happened without thought.

  She could beckon a man to bed with one eye and warn him off with the other. It wasn’t a case of being manipulative—for a while it had meant survival. And survival had been necessary for a teenager in some of the sleazier jobs Fleur had encouraged for her daughter.

  Now twenty-four, and working for Kolovsky, she still retained those skills, but they were used more subtly. Of course she’d flirted with her bosses. But, rather as with the stunning garments they produced, she’d simply admired them, enjoyed them, loved to have a little play with them and dress up. Despite the rumours to the contrary, it had all been strictly fun.

  Flirting with Zakahr, however innocent, was proving downright dangerous—like teasing a tiger behind bars. Here was one man Lavinia wasn’t sure she could handle if he suddenly got out—and it was a relief to be away from him.

  As she drove off, there was also relief for Zakahr. Normally he had no compunction about getting involved with staff, none at all—even his regular PA Abigail was an occasional lover—but he was here in Australia with the intention not to get involved. And certainly not with someone like Lavinia, who not only knew his past but was dealing with Rachael.

  It had killed him to sit and listen to that—he didn’t want to go through it again.

  Zakahr poured vast amounts of money into helping damaged children—each company he resurrected was always structured to work closely with a charity. It came with unexpected benefits—staff were more eager, it promoted a sense of purpose. Yes, Zakahr walked the talk, but despite his great work there was no contact. He had left that part of his past behind, and never wanted to visit it again. Despite his impassiveness, hearing Lavinia speak of Rachael had swirled the black river of hate that ran through him.

  No, Lavinia and her problems he did not need.

  There was a lipgloss rolling around on the floor of the car. He kicked it under the seat opposite, but a moment or so later it rolled out again to him. He cursed, and picked it up and put it in his pocket.

  The car slid past the casino, but that wasn’t the sort of high Zakahr needed tonight.

  He walked into the hotel and, instead of heading to his suite, headed to the plush bar—because he did need a good night.

  He ordered a brandy, then saw a pretty face and jewels and lipstick and a smile across the room, hoping he might return it.

  It was that easy for him.

  But, no, Zakahr did not have the good night Lavinia had wished him. Because he pulled out a lipgloss instead of his pen when he went to sign for champagne, and, wondering if she’d hexed him, Zakahr downed his brandy in one and to the smile’s disappointment headed up to his suite.

  He took off his jacket. It smelt of her.

  He took off his shirt, because that now smelt of her too.

  He poured another brandy. The room’s flowers had been replaced—an arrangement of lilies—and Zakahr felt a soft, thick petal. It felt like Lavinia’s skin surely must… He stopped himself. He did not need names to faces.

  Less than a week into his month, his decision was made. The House of Kolovsky would be no more—now all he had to do was execute it.

  She’d get another job, he told himself. Yet his gut churned with sudden unease.

  Zakahr headed to the bathroom, ran the tap and splashed his face with water. As he reached for a towel he caught sight of his back in the angled mirrors—scars like tattoos all told their tale, and Zakahr had lived through each hellish one.

  Rarely did Zakahr examine them, but he did now.

  He saw the thick knot of flesh over his scapula, the dark purple circles that like the memories did not fade, and he was sixteen again, surviving the brutal streets—streetwise and hardened, but as scared as hell.

  Here was the bigger picture, Zakahr told himself. This the reason he was here and he mustn’t forget it.

  Couldn’t forget it.

  God knew he’d tried.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘YOU need to sign this.’ He did not look up as she handed him a document. He took a long drink of his coffee to escape the scent of her. ‘Contracts are screaming for it—Aleksi should have done it before he left.’

  ‘I’ll read through it later.’

  ‘They need it now.’

  If they didn’t she wouldn’t be standing in his office. She was doing her best to avoid him, tapping away on the computer, seemingly engrossed in her work. But Contracts had demanded his signature, and like it or not Lavinia had to face the man who’d filled her thoughts all night, trying to pretend she wasn’t the least concerned that tonight they were going out for dinner—and it wasn’t dining with royalty that was daunting Lavinia.

  ‘Rula is to be the new Face of Kolovsky—they’re shooting this week, and her contract still hasn’t been signed off.’ Still he made no move. ‘It’s an important document.’

  ‘Then it deserves close attention,’ Zakahr retorted. ‘Which I don’t have time for now.’

  ‘So what do I tell them?’

  ‘That’s entirely up to you.’ He took another drink of his coffee. ‘Out.’

  He was loathsome, Lavinia decided as she hung up the phone after not the easiest of conversations with Contracts. He was loathsome, horrible and arrogant, and she was mad to even consider fancying him. In fact she refused to—so she checked her horoscope instead.

  The stars are urging you to take the advice being given…

  Fat lot of help that was—some advice on pompous, tall, dark and handsome bosses would be nice.

  ‘Lavinia.’

  With a jolt she looked up, and for a second was confused. But Iosef always did that to her, given he was Aleksi’s identical twin. Though he had plenty of the Kolovsky dash, he was a smudge more down-to-earth than Aleksi, who wore only the best suits and had his hair trimmed weekly.

  Iosef was in black jeans and a T-shirt, and didn’t look in the best of moods.

  ‘Is he in?’

  ‘He is!’ Lavinia smiled up at Iosef—he had always been her favourite of the Kolovsky brothers, and they’d shared a little flirtation in the past—well, till he’d fallen head-over-heels and married Annie.

  ‘How is it going?’

  Lavinia rolled her eyes.

  ‘What are you doing at this desk?’

  ‘I’m the new PA!’

  Iosef actually laughed, and for a moment so too did Lavinia.

  ‘What’s he like to work for?’

  ‘He makes the rest of you look positively docile. I’ll just let him know that you’re here.’

  ‘No need.’ Zakahr was at the door, his expression boot-faced. ‘Carry on surfing the net, Lavinia.’

  Zakahr closed the door. Iosef was already sitting down, and Zakahr was rattled that he hadn’t waited to be asked, at his clear familiarity with the place.

  With Lavinia.

  For now he pushed that from his mind.

  ‘How are things?’ Iosef asked, not remotely embarrassed at being overheard. Arrogance was a strong genetic trait. ‘How are you finding it?’

  Zakahr did not answer.

  ‘How’s Lavinia doing as PA?’

  ‘Are you here to make small talk?’ Zakahr could not be bothered with small talk.

  ‘I have just come from visiting our mother.’

  ‘Your mother,’ Zakahr corrected. ‘Her choice,’ he added, because from the day she and his father had abandoned a newborn baby in Detsky Dom she had no longer been his.

  ‘I spoke at length with her psychiatrist yesterday. She is in a fragile mental state.’ Like Zakahr, Iosef did not mince words. He did not want to be here—he understood completely his brother’s take—but always with family there was a strange sense of duty. ‘I was not going to com
e to you with this, but I’ve spoken with my wife and we now agree you should at least be told. What you do with the information is up to you. Nina wants to meet with you, to speak with you…’

  ‘And then it will all be okay?’ Zakahr sneered. ‘I would check this psychiatrist’s qualifications—because if she is in such a fragile state does he really want me to say all I have to? All I want to? Does he think I am going to walk in and forgive her?’

  ‘He has warned her how damaging this confrontation could be for her at this stage of her treatment—but still she is desperate to see you.’

  ‘Tell her it’s too late,’ Zakahr said. ‘Thirty-six years too late.’

  Iosef nodded and stood to leave. He had not come here to argue or to plead, and he had known this would be difficult—that Zakahr wanted nothing to do with them.

  When he got to the door he changed his mind. ‘Annie and I are having Annika and Ross over on Saturday for dinner. It would be good to see you…’ Iosef hesitated. He knew so little about this man who was his brother, and was trying hard to do the right thing. They actually weren’t having Annika and Ross over, but if Zakahr would only agree he knew his sister and her husband would come. ‘If you want to bring anyone…’

  ‘You still don’t get it.’ Zakahr leant back in his chair. ‘I am not here for a tender reunion with my family.’ His lips sneered the word. ‘Aleksi I have respect for. The rest of you…’

  ‘We didn’t know.’

  ‘You didn’t want to know,’ Zakahr said, but Iosef shook his head.

  ‘We are all devastated by this, Riminic…’ And Iosef could have kicked himself. He had spent the morning hearing his mother wailing and crying the name of the baby she had abandoned, and now he stood before the man who loathed his past so much he had wiped it clean and changed his name. ‘Zakahr…’

  ‘Get out.’ Zakahr did not shout it, but it was non-negotiable. Just hearing the name Riminic made the bile churn in his stomach.

  Riminic Ivan Kolovsky.

  Riminic, son of Ivan.

  He could feel the sweat on his forehead as the name played over and over. All Riminic had done, all Riminic had endured.