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.’