The Innocent Behind the Scandal (The Marchetti Dynasty 2)

Zoe could have debated that point. She shrugged, trying to feign a nonchalance she wasn’t feeling. ‘You caught my eye... Everyone else was looking around, looking for attention, but you looked...contained.’ Zoe winced. How could she articulate the way he’d sent off such an aloof vibe...?

Maks’s mouth twitched. ‘I don’t tolerate small-talk well. Inane conversation, talk of the latest trends... I like to make my own judgements.’

His gaze narrowed on her and Zoe felt breathless all over again. A hazard with this man.

He said, ‘You caught my attention.’

Her heart thumped. ‘But... I’m nothing special.’

* * *

Maks knew she wasn’t fishing for compliments. She sounded genuinely perplexed.

‘I haven’t stopped thinking about you for the past two weeks. I kept your camera. I looked through your photographs. There are none of you.’

‘Why would I take pictures of myself?’

‘You’re beautiful.’

Her expression shut down, and she avoided his eye. ‘You don’t have to say things like that. I know I’m not.’

Once again Maks fought the urge to tip up her chin, make her look at him. ‘You might not be seven feet tall and have the kind of outlandish traffic-stopping looks that models have, but, yes, you’re beautiful.’

* * *

Zoe glanced at Maks suspiciously. But he wasn’t laughing at her. She’d been given compliments before, and she’d found herself soaking them up like a flower responding to the sun’s rays, but soon she’d realised they were empty compliments, used to manipulate her.

This felt different. Which made it dangerous. Because she’d extricated herself from a situation with an ex-boyfriend who had been infinitely less in every way than the man in front of her.

Maks Marchetti left Dean Simpson in the dust. So how much more damage could a man like Maks do, if she left him in?

She didn’t want to answer that, because on the other side of fear was something she didn’t want to acknowledge: hope. She’d allowed herself to feel hope before and had learnt a harsh lesson. Did she really want to risk that again?

No.

‘Look, I’m under no illusions. Your industry celebrates perfect beauty, and we both know that I do not come close to that ideal. Not with a scarred face.’

Maks cocked his head to one side, looking at her. His gaze moved over her face and she felt hot again. She cursed herself for drawing his attention like this. She’d hoped mention of her scars, of the fact that she wasn’t perfect, might act as a deterrent. Remind him that she only intrigued him. Nothing more.

‘Perfection is overrated. Believe me. I’m far more interested in beautiful flaws. Everyone is flawed, Zoe, but most just hide it underneath a pseudo-perfect exterior.’

Zoe’s breath hitched. She really hadn’t expected to hear him say something like that. His words resonated deep inside her, where she held exactly the same sentiments.

Before she could respond, Maks was reaching for her hand and holding it up. Electricity short-circuited her brain.

He was frowning. ‘Your finger—is it okay?’

She looked at her hand stupidly and saw the plaster over her injured finger. She wasn’t sure if it was throbbing now because of him or because it hurt. She couldn’t pull her hand back.

‘It’s fine. It wasn’t a deep cut.’

‘Still, it was my fault you hurt yourself.’

Zoe forced herself to move her hand away. ‘Honestly, it’s fine.’

She took anothe

r sip of champagne, hoping it might calm the hectic beat of her pulse. She would never have expected someone like Maks Marchetti to prove to be so...perceptive. And the fact that he’d kept her camera and returned it kept emotion bubbling far too near the surface.