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‘Why didn’t you?’ Lavinia couldn’t stop herself from asking. ‘Why didn’t you even try?’
‘I saw how everyone hated me when Levander came to Australia—when they found out I knew his mother had died, and that Levander had been raised in Detsky Dom orphanage…’
Lavinia blew her hair upwards. Nina was getting more and more indiscreet, and the rumour that had quietly blown through Kolovsky—that Nina had known all along—was, to Lavinia’s horror, confirmed.
‘Levander wasn’t my blood, and still they hated me. I couldn’t face it if they knew there was more—that I had left my own son too.’
‘Well, you have to face it.’ Lavinia bit down on the sudden white-hot fury that shot through her. ‘You have to face it because the truth is here.’
‘Does he ask about me?’ Nina begged. ‘Does Riminic ask about me?’
‘Nina…’ Lavinia shook her head in exasperation. ‘He doesn’t have a clue that I know who he really is—to me he’s Zakahr Belenki, someone Kolovsky was doing business with, and he’s taken over now that Aleksi is working solely on the Krasavitsa fashion line and you are not well. That’s all he thinks I know.’
‘He is beautiful, yes?’ Nina said. ‘How could I not see he was my son? How did I look in his eyes and not recognise him?’
‘Maybe you were scared to,’ Lavinia offered. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. She was loath to leave her because at least Nina was talking now, but she had no choice. ‘I have to go, Nina.’
And then, in the midst of her devastation, as always Nina remembered.
‘How is your sister?’
Lavinia toyed with whether to tell her or not. She had always confided in Nina, but now it just didn’t seem the right time.
‘She’s doing okay.’
‘She likes kindergarten?’
‘She does,’ Lavinia said quietly, thinking of Rachael’s serious little face—a guarded face that rarely smiled. She was reminded of Zakahr.
‘You keep fighting for her.’
Nina stroked Lavinia’s cheek, and Lavinia truly didn’t get it. She had seen the worst of Nina—had heard her bitch and moan, had worked alongside her even as she tried to have Aleksi ousted. With all the shame of her past—the fact she hadn’t fought for her own son—there was so much to despise, and yet Nina could be so kind.
‘Give her my love.’
‘I will.’ Lavinia stood up. ‘I’d better get back.’
She really had better get back—hospital visits didn’t really squeeze into lunch-breaks, and she’d have to run through the car park to make it back to the office.
But as she raced out of the lift she saw Zakahr had beaten her to it.
‘How was the doctor?’ he asked.
‘Not great.’ Lavinia put on her best martyred face, but instead of being cross with her Zakahr actually wanted to laugh—she was such an actress.
‘Poor you,’ Zakahr said, and she caught his eye, not sure if he was being sarcastic—not sure of this man at all.
He unsettled her.
All morning he had unsettled her—in a way very few did.
She would not be intimidated. Lavinia utterly refused to be. Only it wasn’t just that—it was the lack of roaming in those eyes, the stillness in him as he looked not at her, not through her, but into her that made her breath quicken, made the ten-second lift-ride down to the main function room seem inordinately long. And when the lift doors opened she forgot to step out.
‘After you,’ Zakahr said, when she had stood for a second too long.
And because Zakahr didn’t know the way to the stage entrance Lavinia had to lead, awkward now, with him walking behind.
‘Hopefully everything’s in place…’ She hung back a touch and walked in step with him, tried to make small talk. But Zakahr, of course, didn’t engage in that.
Lavinia was just a little impressed with what she had achieved—and just a little praise would have been welcome. Effectively the place had been put into lockdown, and now, as they stood in the wings, instead of models and the new season’s display, it was Zakahr Belenki who was the star of the show, with wary, disgruntled staff waiting to hear their fate.
He wasn’t in the least nervous, Lavinia realised, as he leant against the wall reading e-mails on his phone while the head of HR read out his credentials to the tense audience. Even Lavinia had butterflies on his behalf, yet Zakahr was as relaxed as if he were waiting for a bus.
‘Hold on a second…’ She put her hand up to correct his tie, just as she would have for Aleksi, just as she would have if Nina had had a strap showing as she was about to walk on. But on contact she immediately wished that she hadn’t. The simple, almost instinctive manoeuvre was suddenly terribly complicated. She felt his skin beneath her fingers, inhaled the scent of him as she moved in closer, the sheer maleness of him as she moved his tie a fraction to the centre and went to smooth his collar down.
His hand shot up and caught her wrist.
‘What are you doing?’ Zakahr was the least touchy-feely person on the planet. Flirting, unnecessary touching—he partook in neither. Lavinia seemed a master at both.
‘Sorry!’ His reaction confused her. There had been nothing flirtatious about her action, but Zakahr seemed less than impressed. ‘Sheer habit,’ Lavinia explained. Only her voice came out a little higher than normal, and her breath was tight in her chest as those eyes now did roam her body. His hand let go of her wrist, but instead of dropping to his side, the warm, dry hand slid around her neck. Lavinia stood transfixed. For a second she thought he was going to pull her towards him—for a full second she thought she was about to be kissed—but instead his fingers stole down the nape of her neck to the tender skin there, tucked in a label he couldn’t even have seen beneath her thick blonde hair. And then he mocked her with a black smile. She could see the flash of warning, and she could see something else too—the danger beneath the slick surface of him.
‘That’s better,’ Zakahr said, his hand still on the back of her neck. ‘It was annoying me.’
‘I was just…’ Lavinia attempted to explain again that she had just been straightening his tie, but her voice faded as Zakahr shook his head.
‘No games!’ Zakahr said. ‘Because you have no idea who you are playing with.’
The applause went up, and without a further word he headed out, leaving Lavinia standing in the wings, her neck prickling from his touch, stunned and unsure as to what had just taken place.
And then he smiled.
A slow smile that moved around the room like the rays of the sun.
Those grey eyes somehow met everyone’s, and before he had even opened his mouth the audience was his.
‘There is much fear and speculation today,’ Zakahr said, his accent more pronounced over the microphone. ‘I cannot end the speculation, but I hope to allay your fears.’
He did.
Everyone had a voice, he told his captive audience, and he would listen to each one. He expected the House of Kolovsky to continue to flourish, and was looking forward to getting to know the staff.
A smile of relief swept the room—only it didn’t reach Lavinia, and neither did his speech. It was his earlier words that rang in her ears as she watched from the shadow of the wings.
‘You have no idea who you are playing with.’
But she did.
Riminic Ivan Kolovsky—a man surely with no allegiance to the empire, a man who had learnt hate from the cradle, a man who had practically warned her himself to steer clear.
She didn’t trust him. She wasn’t even sure if she liked him. And he was absolutely out of her league. So why, Lavinia asked herself as her hand moved to the back of her neck, as she felt the skin he had branded with his touch, did she really want to know him some more?
CHAPTER FOUR
THERE was no one less fun to work for.
It was straight down to business after yet another sleepless night.
Not only did she have Rachael to worry about, there was now that incident with Zakahr. She hadn’t been flirting, she’d thought indignantly as she’d lain there. Or maybe she had? Blushing in the darkness, Lavinia had rolled over, replaying that seemingly innocent gesture over and over, replaying: Zakahr’s warm fingers on the back of her neck, her being momentarily trapped at his bidding.
Even though she’d hauled herself to work early, Zakahr, of course, was already there. She made him coffee and took it in, but he neither looked up nor thanked her—just asked for some staff files and reminded her that he wanted to commence interviews at nine. Lavinia rued her night of imaginings—clearly it hadn’t troubled him a jot.
Lavinia ached for the old days—gossiping by the coffee machine, chatting with Aleksi. Even Kate would have made things so much more bearable. But with Zakahr it was just work, work, work.
Her lunch break consisted of a mad dash for the vending machine and yet another energy drink.
‘Annika’s on the line.’ When a moment later Zakahr still hadn’t picked up his sister’s call, Lavinia buzzed him again, and then knocked on his door. ‘Annika’s on the phone for you.’
‘I’m busy with interviews. Who’s next?’ Zakahr asked, raising an eyebrow at the large energy drink she was carrying. It was Lavinia’s third of the day.
‘I’m just trying to get hold of her—it should be Alannah Dalton, Head of Retail,’ Lavinia said, handing him the file.
‘And?’ Zakahr asked, because Lavinia’s little off-the-record additions were actually spot-on.
‘A right old misery. She moans about everything—thinks the whole world’s out to get her…’ Her voice trailed off, and Zakahr looked up to see that Lavinia’s eyes were closed and that despite her make-up there was a sallow tinge to her cheeks.
‘Are you going to faint?’ He sounded weary at the thought of it.
‘No,’ Lavinia whispered. ‘I’m just…’ For an appalling moment she thought she might be sick, but it abated and she took a deep breath, licked very dry lips. The world was swimming back into focus. ‘I had no sleep last night.’ She saw his jaw tighten. ‘I know it’s not your problem—it’s entirely mine…’
She sat on his large sofa and put her head on her knees for a moment. He just sat at his desk and watched, neither worried nor impressed—if anything, he was bored by the drama of her.
‘I’ll be fine,’ Lavinia said a couple of moments later.
Only she wasn’t.
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