A Bride for Kolovsky Read online

  ‘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.

  She made it out of his office even as little dots danced before her eyes. She gulped down water, ate four jelly beans and a bag of crisps that had been hiding in her desk, and took a call from Alannah.

  Lavinia buzzed Zakahr. ‘She’s on her way from the boutique. They had an important client.’ She didn’t actually hear his response, because there was a loud ringing sound in her ears.

  When Alannah Dalton didn’t appear, and neither did Lavinia respond to his intercom buzzer, Zakahr marched out of his office, less than impressed, to find her once again head-down at her desk.

  ‘I’m not asleep,’ Lavinia said without moving. ‘And I really am sorry.’ She had to tell him—well, not tell him everything, but she had to admit a bit of the truth—it was either that or get fired. ‘I’ve got some personal problems. I hardly had any sleep over the weekend, just worrying, and it was the same last night…’

  Now she did lift her head, and Zakahr rather hoped she’d put it down again. Her lips were white, her mascara was sliding down her cheeks, and he was now worried rather than weary. He was used to more staff, used to snapping his fingers and producing solutions, but in a situation of his own making there was no one.

  He went to the en suite bathroom, ran water onto a hand towel and brought it back to her. He wasn’t entirely convinced by her story, but she was clearly ill, so he took the towel, and she accepted it without thanks, burying her face in it as Zakahr stood silent till finally she came up for air.

  ‘I’ll be better tomorrow.’ Lavinia was insistent. ‘I’ll be back to normal.’

  ‘I’ll get my driver to take you home—’ Zakahr started, but he halted as she winced. The thought of walking, of getting into a car, clearly had her dizzy all over again. ‘You need to rest…’

  He led her to what had actually been her old office, before Zakahr had insisted on the promotion, and she fell into the familiar cushions with relief. It had never been more blissful to lie down. But now that the world was back in focus embarrassment was seeping in.

  ‘I’m really sorry.’ There was colour coming back to her face now, though her make-up was on the towel which she had pressed to her forehead. ‘I can explain.’

  ‘Just rest for now,’ Zakahr said. Seeing that she was shivering, he did the right thing and took off his jacket and covered her. Then he pulled the blinds. By the time he had finished she was sound asleep.

  Zakahr rang down to Reception and had someone sent up to replace Lavinia for the rest of afternoon, while he carried on conducting staff interviews. Alannah Dalton was a right old misery, as Lavinia had said.

  He was a skilled interviewer, and he listened as the staff ranted and raved, and saved their own skin by blaming others.

  He learnt a lot.

  Confirmed a lot.

  The cracks in Kolovsky had started long before Ivan’s death—of course he pursued this, but on too many occasions his mind wandered to the woman asleep next door, no matter how many times he tried to halt it.

  ‘Were there staff favourites?’ Zakahr asked them all.

  It was as simple as that.

  Of course he had to listen to a lot that did not interest him in order to get to the bit that did. It was common knowledge that Lavinia had been sleeping with Aleksi, and maybe Levander too, before him. Lavinia, he was repeatedly told, always kept in with the boss.

  Zakahr kept his face impassive as over and over this was reiterated, but he almost felt regret as he realised that the smile he was starting to like, the chatter
, the jokes—everything that was Lavinia—wasn’t pleasing exclusively to him.

  In a break between interviews Zakahr walked into the darkened office and stared down at her for a full moment. With her face relaxed by sleep, her mouth minus the gloss, she looked younger, prettier—innocent, almost.

  Though clearly that wasn’t the case.

  He found her file and bundled it up with a few others, and then he settled back for a read.

  She had been hauled in to HR several times—always at another colleague’s request—and Kate herself had made a couple of complaints, but there had never been any action taken.

  Zakahr was quite sure he knew why.

  At five p.m., she stepped into his office, with a red mark from the cushion on the side of her face.

  ‘I don’t know what to say!’ She handed him his jacket, which he took without a word. ‘Thank you, though. I’ll see you tomorrow—assuming, of course…’ Lavinia tried to keep her voice upbeat, but even she could hear its waver ‘…that I still have a job?’

  ‘Do you even want this job?’ Zakahr asked.

  ‘Of course I do,’ Lavinia responded immediately—because now more than ever a solid working history was vital.

  ‘Then can I suggest you go home to bed and sleep tonight?’ Zakahr said tartly. ‘And that you eat something instead of relying on caffeine…’ She exasperated him—why, he didn’t know. She was too pale, too thin and too careless with herself, and even though it was far from his problem for a moment it felt like it. ‘Let’s both get something to eat.’

  Lavinia shook her head. Because even if she was starving, even if all she’d have the energy to rustle up this evening was egg on toast, the thought of being out with Zakahr—of an evening away from the office, actually talking to him—had her body on instant alert. She’d heeded his warning. She wasn’t about to toy with him. His company out of office hours would be perilous at least!

  ‘I’m really not up to a fancy restaurant today—and we’re eating out with the King tomorrow. Right now I just want to go home, have a bath, and go to sleep.’

  ‘Home, eat, bath and then sleep,’ Zakahr said through gritted teeth, not trusting her to do so. Taking it into his own hands, he stood. ‘You need to eat, and so do I.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HE TOOK her somewhere very dark, very low-key, and actually rather relaxing.

  ‘How do you know about this place?’ Lavinia had grumbled as they’d turned into a back street and he’d led her to what must be one of Melbourne’s best-kept secrets. As she slipped into deep velvet seats Lavinia peered around and saw it was filled with the rich and the beautiful. ‘I’ve lived here all my life and didn’t know it existed.’

  ‘Concierge,’ was Zakahr’s concise reply, but then he stopped being her boss for a moment and gave her a brief smile. ‘The food is good.’ And she did need to eat. She ordered a snow pea and asparagus risotto, which was smothered in pepper and fresh parmesan, and layered butter on a warm roll.

  Conversation came easily, and Lavinia surprised Zakahr by tucking in to her food the moment it arrived—and even if she only managed a quarter of the large plate he watched with surprising pleasure as colour came back to her complexion and that sparkle came back to her eyes.

  ‘Better?’ Zakahr asked.

  ‘Much,’ Lavinia admitted—because the food had been lovely, and the company pleasant rather than challenging. Far from feeling awkward, for the first time in ages Lavinia found herself unwinding.

  ‘You need to take better care of yourself.’

  ‘I take very good care of myself,’ Lavinia responded, but then relented. ‘Usually.’

  Zakahr waited for her to elaborate—his skilled interview technique continued long after office hours. He chose to give away little about himself, and the easiest way to accomplish that was to ask about her life—but though Lavinia spoke easily about work, weddings and the like, she was surprisingly reticent when it came to her current problems. In fact, when Zakahr subtly asked the nature of her problems, Lavinia turned the question on him.

  ‘Just family stuff—but then you’d know all about family dramas, wouldn’t you?’ She watched his steak knife pause, and after a moment he actually put down the cutlery and took a drink of water before speaking. He was unsure if he’d misheard, because it was such a guarded secret—one the Kolovskys dreaded getting out—surely the Assistant PA couldn’t know?

  ‘Do you come from a large family?’ Zakahr asked instead of answering.

  ‘I’ve got a half-sister.’ She saw him frown, and realised she was making no sense. And though she was really too weary to explain herself, so much had been bottled inside for so long that Lavinia found herself opening up. ‘My mum died last year.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Zakahr said, as was polite, but Lavinia gave a tight shrug.

  ‘She lived longer than expected,’ Lavinia said. ‘I’m rather amazed that she made it into her forties—my mum was someone who really didn’t take care of herself.’ She pushed the risotto around her plate—hungry, but not, angry, but not. Just sharing her burden, just voicing it, might bring fresh perspective.

  ‘What about your father?’ Zakahr pushed.

  ‘I don’t have a father,’ she said. ‘Well, I don’t…’

  ‘You don’t keep in touch?’

  ‘I don’t know who he is.’ She gave a tight smile that was born from embarrassment. ‘Neither did my mother.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I doubt it.

  ‘Look.’ Lavinia gave up with her food. ‘My half-sister is younger than me—much younger. She lives with her father and his new partner. It was bad enough leaving her there when my mother was alive—I know what I went through as a child—but now that she’s gone…well, I know that Kevin doesn’t want her, and nor does his new partner. I’m trying to get custody, but they’re opposing it…’

  Zakahr looked up, unable to imagine the high-fashion, rather dizzy Lavinia taking on the role of single mum. But since the moment he had met her she had surprised him.

  ‘I thought you said that they didn’t want her?’ Zakahr frowned. ‘What is her name?’

  ‘Rachael, and she’s four.’ Her tense mouth softened even as she said the name. ‘They don’t want her. But Mum had a life insurance policy, and there’s a small trust for her—they’d get paid. Not a huge amount, but enough to make it worth their while to keep her. They deny it’s about money, of course, but I know I’m right.’

  ‘So how do you know that they don’t want her? Really know?’ Zakahr asked—because he dealt only in fact.

  ‘Her dad’s got two older boys who can do no wrong, and his partner’s got two little girls from another relationship. And now they’ve just had a baby of their own.’

  ‘A large blended family,’ Zakahr said, but Lavinia screwed up her nose.

  ‘Rachael doesn’t fit into the blend,’ Lavinia said. ‘She’s clever, she’s a serious little thing, and they just have no time for her. I buy her clothes, but I go there and the girls are wearing them while Rachael’s in rags. She spends most of her time in her room.’ He saw the flash of tears in her eyes as she took a large gulp of water. ‘It’s the hardest thing to explain,’ Lavinia admitted. ‘It’s actually impossible to explain. I used to see her once a fortnight, and if I argued or pointed anything out—well, I just didn’t get to see her the next time.’

  ‘So you’ve stayed quiet?’

  ‘Do you know how hard it is to stay quiet when you know a child is suffering?’

  Zakahr said nothing.

  ‘I arranged some childcare for her—it had a kindergarten programme. I told Debbie…’

  ‘The partner?’ Zakahr checked, and Lavinia nodded.

  ‘I told her that it might give her a break, that I knew Rachael was hard work—I made it sound like I was doing them a favour. But in fact I wanted her away from them, and hopefully for one of the teachers to see what was going on.’

  ‘Which they did?’

  ‘She had s
ome bruises on her arms,’ Lavinia said. ‘And they were worried about some of the stuff she’d been saying. She was taken into foster care on Friday. I thought I’d get her—I really thought it would be automatic—now I’m being assessed.’ She shrilled out the word. ‘I’ve got my own record with them,’ Lavinia admitted. ‘I was bounced in and out of care for most of my childhood—’

  ‘And that goes against you?’ Zakahr checked. ‘You are responsible now—you have a good job…’

  ‘I didn’t always,’ Lavinia said, and she was so weary with it all, so tired of trying to justify herself, she simply stopped. To Zakahr she would be honest. ‘The “modelling” that I used to do—after my mum pulled me out of school at sixteen—I was actually a stripper for a few years. Then I did some dancing…’

  ‘I’m assuming not classical?’

  There was nothing derisive in his voice, no shock in his eyes—all he did was listen—so much so that Lavinia even managed a wry smile.

  ‘Steer me away from all poles!’ she said to his bland expression. ‘I just can’t help myself sometimes.’

  ‘You modelled as well?’

  ‘That’s how I ended up at Kolovsky—it was a fashion week, the agents were frantic, Kolovsky were a bridesmaid short… It was luck, really.’

  ‘You’d still be dancing without Kolovsky?’