by Abby Green
Maks had to curb every urge he had to persuade her to stay. Not something he was used to having to do. She reminded him of a fawn, ready to bolt. She was resisting this...this thing between them, and he was more intrigued than ever.
He said, with a carelessness he didn’t feel, ‘Sure, no problem. I’ll give you a lift home.’
Her eyes grew wide. ‘Really, there’s no need, I’m all the way over in East London. It’ll be far quicker on the Tube.’
Maks looked at his watch. It was after eleven p.m. ‘And more dangerous,’ he said. ‘I insist. The roads will be quiet now. It won’t take any longer.’
She looked as if she was inclined to argue, but eventually said, ‘Okay—if you’re sure it’s not out of your way.’
It was. Massively. But for the first time in a long time Maks felt energised, and there was no way he was letting this woman slip through his fingers again.
‘It’s not a problem.’
He stood up and led the way out. The hostess behaved with utter discretion and showed no hint of surprise even though they’d only arrived a short while before.
Back in the car, Zoe gave him directions and Maks drove away from the Bond Street area. He could see her hands clasping her bag again out of the corner of his eye. She was tense.
To distract her, he asked, ‘Why did you leave Ireland? By all accounts the country is thriving. My brother has a house there and his wife is Irish. They have a baby son.’
Just saying those words sent a fresh jolt of shock through Maks. He was still coming to terms with the fact that his playboy brother Nikos had recently discovered that he’d fathered a child and was now married.
The thought of being careless enough to find himself having to consider marriage for the sake of a child made Maks go cold. No way would he subject any child of his to the prospect of a dysfunctional marriage, and he didn’t know any other kind.
Beside him, Zoe shrugged. He welcomed a diversion from thoughts of his brother and babies and marriage.
‘I wanted to travel and explore the world outside of Ireland.’
‘Have you been anywhere else?’ Maks glanced at her and saw that her hair had swung forward again. He had to stop himself from pulling it back. He hated not being able to see her face.
‘A little...around Europe. Not as much as I’d like.’
Maks, having become used to reading people and situations ever since his parents had waged their psychological warfare, guessed that Zoe wasn’t giving him the whole story. But he wouldn’t push. For now.
* * *
A companionable silence fell in the sleek car as it easily ate up the distance between the fashionable centre of London and the far less salubrious area where she lived. Zoe hated to admit how comfortable she felt. She wasn’t used to comfortable silences with men. Although admittedly she didn’t have much experience...
‘It’s the next right and then immediately left,’ Zoe said quickly, realising they were practically at her door. ‘This is fine.’
Maks pulled to a smooth stop in a space between two cars. ‘You live here?’
Zoe bristled slightly, imagining how the tall, scruffy house must look to him. ‘Yes. My flat is on the top floor.’ Her tiny, one-bedroom flat.
Maks undid his belt and opened his door, getting out. Zoe had to scramble to catch up. He was already at the bottom of her steps.
He put out a hand. ‘Your keys?’
Zoe looked at him. ‘I can let myself in. This is fine—you can go now.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m not leaving until I know you’re safe.’
She let out an exasperated sound. ‘This area is probably safer than where we just were! It’s a tight-knit community.’
‘Zoe.’
She shivered at the way he said her name, with a slight hint of an accent, an emphasis on the ‘Z’, making it sound exotic, and at his insistence on seeing her safe.
His hair glinted under the moonlight and he looked almost otherworldly against the very humdrum backdrop of houses. Yet he wasn’t getting out of there as quickly as he could. Rushing back to his rarefied world.
She dug into her bag and held out her keys, saying a little huffily, ‘You’re being ridiculous.’
He took the keys and went up the steps. She followed him. He opened the front door, which didn’t stick the way it usually did for her. Then, instead of giving her the keys, he said, ‘Lead on.’
Zoe rolled her eyes. ‘You asked for it—there are five flights and no lift.’
But of course who was out of breath when they got to the top? Not Maks, who was showing no signs of strain. Zoe could feel the heat in her cheeks and beads of sweat on her brow, the lack of breath. Except she couldn’t be sure if that was from the exertion or knowing he had been right behind her the whole way up.
She turned around at her door and held out her hand. ‘My keys, please. I’m safe now.’
Maks held on to her keys. ‘How do you know there isn’t an intruder inside?’
Zoe wanted to stamp her foot. ‘I’m sure there isn’t.’
Maks arched his brow. ‘You’re really not even going to offer me some water before I make the long trip back down to the bottom?’
There was a glint of devilry in his eyes that completely dissolved Zoe’s resistance. She grabbed the keys out of his hand. ‘Fine—you can assure yourself that I’m totally safe.’
She turned around and opened the door and pushed it open, turning on the light at the same time. The soft glow illuminated the tiny room, with its sofa covered in a colourful throw and the plants by the window, which was open a crack to let air in. Photos covered every available wall space.
Zoe turned around, expecting to see horror on Maks’s face at such a rustic basic room, but he was stepping over the threshold, his eyes taking it all in, not looking surprised. Looking...interested.
At the last moment Zoe remembered her manners. ‘I don’t have anything alcoholic, but I can offer you some tea or coffee?’
‘Coffee would be great, thank you. Black, no sugar.’
No frills. Like the man.
Zoe went into her tiny galley kitchen, off which was the even smaller bedroom and bathroom. She made the coffee, glancing through the hatch to see what Maks was up to. His hands were in his pockets and he was staring at the photos on the wall.
The fact that he was here, in her private space, should feel...overwhelming. She’d never felt entirely comfortable when Dean had been here, which should have been an alarm she paid heed to. But Maks being here...it didn’t feel intrusive, or uncomfortable. She felt safe.
She brought him his coffee and he took the cup, barely glancing at her. ‘Who is this?’ He pointed to a black and white picture on the wall. It was of a young girl with a huge smile that almost eclipsed the horrific scars on her face.
Zoe held her own mug of coffee in both hands. ‘That’s Fatima. She’s a refugee from Syria. I do some work with the Face Forward charity.’
Maks looked at her. He was frowning. ‘That was set up by Ciro Sant’Angelo, no? To help people with scarring?’
Zoe nodded, feeling self-conscious of her own scars. ‘Do you know him?’
Ciro Sant’Angelo was an Italian billionaire—she wouldn’t be surprised.
Maks looked back at the picture. ‘Our paths have crossed. I admire what he’s doing. This is a great photo.’
‘Thank you.’ Zoe felt ridiculously pleased at his praise.
He looked at her. ‘If it’s not too personal a question, how did you get your scars?’
Zoe had no time to school her expression or hide. She’d absently tucked her hair behind her ears. So she couldn’t escape Maks’s intense gaze, demanding the full truth. Behind him, on a shelf, she could see the framed photograph of herself and her family, taken before that awful—
A lump rose in her throat and
she spoke quickly to counteract it. ‘It was a car accident.’
‘Is that how your father died?’
Zoe nodded quickly, pushing down the emotion. ‘And my mother and little brother.’
Maks frowned. ‘How old were you?’
‘Eight.’ Her voice was clipped. Abrupt.
‘That’s why you were tense in the car? Why you don’t drive?’
She nodded.
There was a silence. And then, ‘Zoe... I—’
She cut him off, dreading his pity. ‘It’s fine. You don’t have to say anything. It was a long time ago. It was an accident.’
My fault.
Feeling far too exposed now, on a million levels, Zoe took the coffee cup out of Maks’s hand and took it back to the kitchen, not caring that she was slopping coffee on her floor.
‘Like I said, I have to work tomorrow.’
She came back into the living area and went to the front door, opening it. She avoided looking directly at Maks, which wasn’t the easiest thing when he took up so much space.
‘Thank you for dropping me home.’
‘I take it you’re asking me to leave?’
His tone was dry. She glanced at him, suddenly afraid that he wouldn’t take no for an answer, even though instinctively she felt safe with him, which was something she didn’t really want to analyse.
But he didn’t look angry. He appeared unconcerned that she was being so rude. She felt contrite. ‘Yes, look...sorry. It’s been a long day.’
So why didn’t she feel tired? Why did she feel as if she was full of fizzing anticipation and a breathlessness that was becoming far too familiar in his presence?
* * *
Maks looked at Zoe. She was tense again. Reminding him of that fawn, ready to bolt.
He walked towards her and saw how her hand tightened on the door handle.
‘Okay, I can take a hint. I’ll leave... But before I do I want you to be honest with me.’
She looked up at him and Maks had to stop himself from staring at her soft mouth.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You feel it too, don’t you? This...energy between us. Chemistry. Desire.’
Colour spilled into her cheeks even as she shook her head. When she spoke she sounded breathless, and it had a direct effect on Maks’s body.
‘No, I don’t... I don’t think I do.’
Maks smiled, because it was a long time since he’d had to seduce a woman. ‘Liar.’
Now Zoe looked bewildered. ‘Why are you interested in me?’
‘Why are you so suspicious?’
‘Because I’m just...nothing special. And I’m not looking for compliments.’
‘I know,’ Maks said.
‘I’m just normal. Nothing extraordinary.’
‘Your pictures aren’t “just normal”. You have a talent. And you’re beautiful. I want you, Zoe, more than I’ve wanted anyone in a long time.’
Her cheeks glowed. ‘You’re very direct. Has anyone ever told you that?’
A memory flashed into Maks’s head of his mother, her face contorted with fury, her hand coming out of nowhere to slap him across the cheek, her spittle hitting his face as she said, ‘I owe you nothing.’
‘On a rare occasion,’ Maks said dryly, pushing down that rogue memory of the time when he’d confronted his mother about her woeful mothering skills.
* * *
Zoe looked up at Maks Marchetti. She couldn’t believe he’d just told her he wanted her. Her. Boring, ordinary Zoe Collins.
But he didn’t think she was ordinary, or boring.
It was too seductive...too much. She could feel secret parts of herself that she’d exposed before wanting to unfurl and bask in this man’s dynamic presence. Dangerous to want those things. Because she’d wanted them before and she’d paid for it. For her naivety. For her vulnerability.
But, in truth, Dean Simpson hadn’t really had the power to truly wound her. She’d had a lucky escape. Whereas this man... She sensed a level of danger that she would be wise to heed.
He looked as immovable as a massive stone statue. But treacherously, in the same moment she could acknowledge the danger, she also felt it dissipating, to be replaced by temptation.
Desperation gripped her at the thought that he might see how tempted she was. She needed to nip this in the bud now—prove to Maks that he was delusional. Surely if she could prove that he’d leave, and then she could get on with her life and forget that she’d ever met him?
As if you could forget a man like this, taunted an inner voice.
It was a taunt that turned her desperation to panic. Panic strong enough to make her step closer to him and say, ‘I’ll prove to you that there’s really nothing between us.’
A glint came into his eye. ‘Go on, then.’
CHAPTER THREE
ZOE KNEW HE was issuing a challenge, but she had no option but to follow it through now. She sucked in a breath and stepped even closer. Maks made no move to touch her. She reached up, putting her hands on his shoulders, coming up on her toes.
He was so tall, so broad. Every part of her tingled with her awareness of him as a virile male in his prime.
That had to be all it was. She was only human. It couldn’t be desire uniquely for him. And he would soon realise that she really didn’t hold any appeal for him.
She reached up as much as she could, her hands gripping his shoulders, and pressed her mouth to his before she could lose her nerve.
But the nerves, the sense of panic, the desire to prove him wrong...all was incinerated in a flash of electric heat as soon as her lips met the firm contours of his mouth.
Zoe was vaguely aware that she’d intended this to be a quick physical transaction, merely to prove Maks Marchetti wrong. But she couldn’t move. Didn’t want to. Her lips clung to his in a timeless moment when everything was suspended on a breath...which she finally let out like a sigh against his mouth.
It was a sigh of resignation, a sigh of futility, a sigh of recognition that the hectic throbbing pulse of her blood wasn’t just because she was a human reacting to a virile male. It was because something in her resonated so deeply with something in him that she would never be the same again.
She could feel the sheer whipcord strength of his body but she was still not close enough. She wanted to move against him, let all that heat and strength envelop her.
Of their own volition her lips opened, as if they literally couldn’t bear to keep shut. Breath flowed. Her tongue-tip moved forward, seeking to taste. But she had barely touched the seam of his mouth when she suddenly realised what she was doing and pulled back, as if stung.
Maks Marchetti was looking at her. She realised that she was still clinging to him, reaching up, straining to get closer. She pulled her hands off him and stepped back so suddenly she almost fell.
Her cheeks burned. She ducked her head and let her hair fall around her face. She was terrified to look at him again and see his expression. Terrified to get confirmation of what she’d set out to prove—that he couldn’t possibly want her.
She’d failed miserably in proving she didn’t want him, though. She’d been clinging to him like a monkey, and she was sure he’d only been seconds away from having to physically remove her—
‘Zoe... I can practically hear your thoughts, they’re so loud.’
She looked up before she could stop herself. His eyes were glittering, almost silver now. His mouth was quirking. This was even worse. He was laughing at her.
Zoe stalked over to the door and pulled it open. She didn’t look at him again. ‘I think you should leave now.’
He came over and the door was pushed closed again. But Maks was still in the room. Zoe looked at him. He was shaking his head. No quirking mouth now. Deadly serious.
He reached out and tucked a loc
k of her hair behind her ear. And then he moved closer. The air grew thick and heavy. His hand was still in her hair.
He said, ‘May I?’
Zoe’s heart beat fast. He hadn’t left. He wasn’t laughing at her. He was looking at her mouth as if mesmerised and now...at her eyes. She had nowhere to hide. She just nodded.
He made a total mockery of her clumsy kiss by taking her face in his hands and tilting it up to his with an assurance born of experience and mastery. She could feel the rough abrasion of his palms and fingers against her jaw and cheeks. Rough, not smooth. Evidence that he wasn’t as civilised as he looked.
His mouth touched hers, lightly at first, as if testing... Zoe held her breath, afraid to move in case he stopped. Their breaths intermingled. He kissed the corner of her mouth, taking her by surprise. And then the other corner, where the scar dissected her lip.
Her legs felt weak. She had to lock her knees to stay standing.
And then his mouth settled over hers completely, and she had to close her eyes against the burning intensity in his for fear that he might see the effect he was having on her.
His mouth was hard, but soft, coaxing a response that she couldn’t hold back, giving it as instinctively as a flower gave itself to the power of the sun. She opened her mouth on a sigh that turned into a shiver of excitement when Maks’s tongue touched hers, demanding more, demanding everything.
Zoe had been kissed before. She’d even enjoyed it—until she hadn’t. But this went beyond mere enjoyment. This was...elemental. A conflagration burning her up from the inside out, leaving no cell untouched or un-scorched.
Time faded away. All she was aware of was the hectic beat of her heart and the pounding of her blood. She strained to get closer to Maks, winding her arms around his neck.
And then he broke the kiss.
Zoe opened her eyes with effort. She was dizzy. She realised she was all but plastered to Maks and that his hands were on her waist, helping to support her.
Her breath was choppy. Shakily she took her arms down and moved aside, dislodging Maks’s hands.