‘We’ll go and see it tomorrow. The interior has beautiful mosaics.’
Her heart leapt. She ignored it. ‘Don’t you have meetings? Please don’t feel like you have to babysit me. I don’t mind looking around on my own.’
* * *
Once again Maks wondered what he was doing—actively upsetting his own hectic schedule—but the truth was that watching Zoe’s reaction at the ballet had been more engrossing than anything he’d experienced in a long time. He was used to people hiding their emotions or reactions. He was jaded and the people around him were jaded.
‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘It’s a fashion shoot tomorrow. I’m sure they’ll survive without me.’
* * *
When Zoe woke the next morning, dawn was breaking outside. She stretched in the massive bed. She was alone. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected last night, but she’d assumed Maks would expect her to go to bed with him.
She’d certainly been feeling susceptible after that surprisingly thoughtful boat trip and dinner. When they’d got off the boat he’d insisted on carrying her to the car, because she’d still been barefoot. But when they’d returned to the hotel he’d delivered her to her door and said, ‘I’ll collect you for breakfast.’
Zoe must have looked confused, or something worse, because he’d snaked a hand around her neck, his thumb brushing her jaw, and said, ‘We’re taking this slow, Zoe. There’s no need to rush.’
She’d watched him walk away, totally conflicted and reeling at his unexpected chivalry, but also wondering why he wasn’t trying to rip her clothes off.
Maybe he’d gone off her? Or maybe he was well aware of his effect on her and was priming her, so that when he did seduce her she’d be begging him.
She turned and buried her face in the pillow and tried to ignore the ache of frustration in her lower belly—a wholly new sensation.
She flipped over on her back again. With Dean it had been more about the connection they’d had since they were teenagers, in the same foster home. He’d been the first boy to kiss her. When she’d left Ireland she’d broken up with him, and it hadn’t been that much of a wrench. After all, they hadn’t even slept together. He’d pushed for it a couple of times, but something had always held her back.
She’d been surprised at the level of affection she’d felt when he’d appeared in London, asking to see her. She knew now that she’d confused that emotion and her desire with a loneliness that she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge.
And Dean had taken advantage of that to sneak under her skin. Convincing her that there was still something romantic...sexual between them. But, as had happened in the past, when he’d pushed for intimacy something inside her had clammed up. She hadn’t wanted it.
He’d backed off the first couple of times, but then...that last night...he’d grown angry. Accused her of teasing him. Grown violent. Revealed his real reason for coming back into her life.
Zoe shut the memory out.
Dean was gone. Thankfully she’d managed to get rid of him before he’d done anything serious to her. But she wouldn’t forget his horrible, nasty words and the sense of betrayal that had taken her breath away. ‘Frigid, stingy bitch.’
The phone by Zoe’s bed rang and she seized the opportunity for distraction.
Maks. Her pulse skipped a beat.
His voice was deep. Sexy. ‘Morning. Are you awake?’
Zoe lay back, a delicious sizzle of anticipation in her gut. ‘I am now.’
‘Be ready in ten minutes. I’m taking you for breakfast.’
She smiled into the phone. ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re very bossy?’
‘Frequently. Now, move.’
* * *
‘These pyshki are the best in St Petersburg.’
Zoe looked at the doughnuts. She had thought she was full, after the lavish breakfast served in one of St Petersburg’s most ornate and oldest cafés, but now her mouth watered again. If she wasn’t careful she’d have to be wheeled back to London.
‘Here, try one with the coffee.’
Maks handed her a plate holding about five doughnuts and then a coffee. Zoe dutifully took a bite, and as the flaky sweet texture melted on her tongue she moaned. She took a sip of coffee—the perfect accompaniment to the sweetness.