The Innocent Behind The Scandal - Abby Green Page 0,2

out and tip up her chin so he could see her. She was a complete stranger.

‘It’s rude to trespass.’

She looked up again, those eyes flashing green. They were long-lashed. She wore no make-up that he could see and her skin was flawless. Apart from the scars. It was the colour of pale cream roses with a hint of pink. It made him wonder what she would look like in the throes of passion. Would her eyes turn a deeper green when she was aroused? Would her cheeks flush a deeper pink?

An unexpected jolt of lust caught him by surprise. More than a jolt. Actually, she wasn’t just pretty. She was beautiful—but in a way that crept up on him. He moved in a world that celebrated beauty so much that he’d almost become inured to it. But she had a kind of beauty he’d never seen before. Understated. Captivating.

Dio. What the hell was wrong with him?

He took a step back. ‘Leave now and I won’t have you prosecuted for trespassing.’

She went pale.

He ignored his conscience. ‘We don’t allow paparazzi into our shows.’

Her mouth opened and he noticed her lips. Wide and lush. Soft. Tempting. His eye was drawn to that intriguing scar again.

‘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 sure 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