The Innocent Behind the Scandal (The Marchetti Dynasty 2)

‘It was amazing. Thank you. Although I think all the work the make-up artist did has probably been washed away.’

Maks looked at her. ‘You look perfect.’ Then, ‘Did people comment on your scars when you were growing up?’

Zoe was taken aback by the abrupt question, but she also appreciated it. She hated it when people looked at her scars but said nothing.

Absently she touched the one at her lip, tracing the indentation. She dropped her hand. ‘Sometimes, in school, they called me Scarface.’

‘Children can be cruel. Were you ever tempted to try and get rid of them?’

Zoe looked at him. ‘With plastic surgery?’

He nodded. ‘Not that I think you need to—at all. But I could understand the temptation...for an easier life.’

Zoe shook her head. But then her conscience made her admit, ‘I thought of it when I was younger. In secondary school. But I knew I couldn’t be so weak.’

Maks turned to face her. ‘Weak?’

Zoe resisted the urge to touch the scar above her lip again. ‘They’re a reminder of what happened. Of what I did.’

‘What you did?’

‘I was looking at the camera in the back of the car—it was my father’s prized possession. He was telling me to be careful...he took his eyes off the road for a second...and then...’ Bam.

Maks shook his head. ‘Zoe, you weren’t responsible for the accident. You were eight.’

Old wounds ached. ‘I distracted him. If I hadn’t had his camera...’

‘Accidents happen. They’re tragic. Senseless. And usually the sum of a lot more than just a father taking his eyes off the road for a second. You can’t hold yourself responsible.’

Zoe couldn’t escape Maks’s grey eyes. On a rational level she knew he was probably right. But on a deep cellular level, where her trauma lay, it was hard to believe what he was saying. The guilt had been such a constant companion in her life.

The car had pulled to a stop not far from the theatre. Zoe looked outside, welcoming the distraction. She could see water glinting under the moonlight. ‘Where are we?’

Maks was enigmatic. ‘You’ll see.’

He got out and came around to help her out of the car. Zoe sucked in a breath of surprise, all painful recent thoughts fading back where they belonged. There was a small boat with a glass roof bobbing on the canal. Candles flickered inside, and Zoe saw a table set for two. A waiter dressed in a suit. Waiting...

‘We’re going on a boat?’

‘A little late-night dinner while we take in the sights.’

Zoe was speechless.

Maks took her hand and led her down some steps, where a man helped her on board. She took off her sandals after wobbling precariously in her heels. The boat was small but enchanting. Maks was pulling out a chair, and bowed towards her like a maître d’. She sat down, and the boat starting moving gently along the canal as staff served them chilled champagne and a selection of Russian food.

Zoe realised she was starving as she tried delicious kebabs, dumplings filled with meat, puff pastries filled with cheese and then, of course, the ubiquitous caviar on small pieces of crusty bread. It tasted salty and sharp and she washed it down with champagne.

‘Do you like it?’ Maks asked.

Zoe wrinkled her nose. ‘I think it might grow on me.’

She was feeling light-headed from the wine, and then dessert was served—delicious blinis filled with chocolate syrup.

While they were winding their way along the canal Zoe asked about various landmarks and Maks told her what they were. One in particular caught her eye, an elaborately domed and turreted cathedral, floodlit.

‘That’s the Church of the Saviour on Spilled Blood. It’s where Tsar Alexander the Second was assassinated.’

Zoe shivered at that gruesome image.