The Innocent Behind the Scandal (The Marchetti Dynasty 2)

‘I am not paparazzi.’

She’d drawn herself up, her whole body quivering as if she was indignant. Maks had to hand it to her: she was a good actress. He ignored the way he wanted to drop his gaze down over her body and study her more thoroughly. There was a distinct hum in his blood now and he did not welcome this distraction. Or attraction...

‘Well, I’m afraid that sneaking into one of the biggest shows of the season, with wall-to-wall A-list guests, makes me a touch suspicious. And in any case this is not up for discussion.’

* * *

Maks Marchetti looked over her head and made a gesture. Zoe turned around to see two beefy security men approaching them. She swivelled back to Marchetti. ‘Look, please, I didn’t mean any harm. I’m really not paparazzi.’

But her words fell on deaf ears.

Marchetti said over her head, ‘Please escort this young woman out. Make su

re she doesn’t ever get into another show again.’

Zoe’s mouth fell open as her arms were taken on each side, lightly but firmly. She glared at Marchetti. How had she thought he was beautiful? The man was cruel and cold.

‘Seriously? You’re blacklisting me?’

Now she wouldn’t get in even if she had a lanyard. Her dreams of breaking into the lower echelons of the fashion photography industry were going up in smoke.

The security guards started to lead her away. She saw her camera dangling carelessly from Marchetti’s hand. ‘What about my camera?’

He held it up. ‘You lost it the moment you trespassed. Goodbye. I hope we don’t meet again, for your sake.’

Zoe was being propelled backwards, and she knew she should turn around. She didn’t even know this man and she’d gone from thinking he was gorgeous to hating him all within a few seismic minutes. But she couldn’t tear her gaze from his.

And, worse, there was a feeling of...hurt at what he’d said. That he hoped they wouldn’t meet again. What on earth was that about?

It galvanised her to say, ‘Well, for what it’s worth, Mr Marchetti, you’re the last man on earth that I ever want to meet again.’

He lifted a hand—the one without her camera. He even let his mouth tip up at one corner. ‘Ciao.’

* * *

Maks watched the security men take the woman outside and disappear. It was crazy, but for a moment he’d almost wanted to go after them and tell them to let her go.

And do what? he scoffed at himself. Look at her some more?

He shook his head and went back into the show.

He watched it from the back of the room, barely taking in the rapturous applause at the end. And, even though he’d just watched some of the world’s most beautiful women parade down a catwalk in front of him, he couldn’t seem to get a pair of long-lashed aquamarine eyes out of his head.

He went still inside, though, when he realised that he hadn’t even taken her name. She’d distracted him that much. He scowled. Just as well he’d ensured she wouldn’t gain access again. He didn’t need distractions like her.

Maks looked at the camera in his hand. It was an old Nikon, probably about twenty years old, and a bit battered. There was a bin nearby, and he knew he should just throw it away and put that brief encounter out of his head, say good riddance to the whole encounter. He wouldn’t see her ever again.

* * *

A few hours later, Zoe looked broodingly out of the window of the train as it arrived back into London. Early autumn had been sunny in Paris, but London’s late-afternoon skies were leaden and did little to elevate her mood. Every time she thought of that last image of Maks Marchetti, smirking and saying ciao with her camera dangling from his hand, she wanted to scream—or cry.

To her horror, tears prickled behind her eyelids. How could she have lost her beloved father’s camera like that? It was probably at the bottom of a rubbish bin by now. Wiped clean of all pictures. Memory card destroyed.

Absently she touched the scar above her lip. It was that camera that had given her the scar. Both scars. When their car had crashed seventeen years ago, killing her parents and her younger brother. She’d been eight. Ben had been five. Her parents had been in their prime.

She’d been holding the camera in her hands and her father had looked back at her for a moment, telling her to be careful with it. And then... Then the world had exploded in a ball of fire and pain and her life had changed overnight. She’d become an orphan. She and the camera were the only things that had survived the crash.

Zoe took her hand down from her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, as if that might block out the unwelcome memories. She did not need to go there now. She went there enough in her dreams and nightmares.