Carol Marinelli - The Devil Wears Kolovsky

CAROL MARINELLI recently filled in a form where she was asked for her job title and was thrilled, after all these years, to be able to put down her answer as writer. Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation, and after chewing her pen for a moment Carol put down the truthwriting. The third question asked, What are your hobbies? Well, not wanting to look obsessed or, worse still, boring, she crossed the fingers on her free hand and answered swimming and tennis. But, given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights, and the closest shes got to a tennis racket in the last couple of years is watching the Australian Open, Im sure you can guess the real answer!

Carol also writes for
Mills & Boon Medical Romance!

THE DEVIL WEARS
KOLOVSKY

CAROL MARINELLI

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Z AKAHR could have walked, but he chose not to.

The offices of the House of Kolovsky were, after all, just a short stroll from the luxury hotel that was for the next few weeks Zakahr Belenkis home.

Or, to avoid the press, he could have taken a helicopter for the short hop across the Melbourne skyline.

Except he had long dreamt of this moment.

This moment of the future was one that had sustained Zakahr through a hellish youthand now, finally, the future was today.

His driver, on Zakahrs instruction, took the long route from the hotel, the blacked-out windows of the sleek limousine causing heads to turn as it made its way through the smart streets lined with galleries and boutiques. As instructed, the driver slowed down at the original House of Kolovsky boutique. The cerulean blue building with the Kolovsky gold logo was familiar, and its wares were desired worldwide. The window display was, as always, elegantly simpleswathes of heavy silk, and one large opal that shimmered in the morning light. Aesthetically it was beautiful, but as always, wherever this sight greeted him on his travels, Zakahr tasted bile.

Drive on.

His driver obliged. A few moments later they pulled up outside the offices of the House of Kolovsky, and the moment was Zakahrs.

Cameras were aimed for their shot, and for once he didnt mind. Impossibly wealthy, and with brooding good-looks, he had dated many of Europes most beautiful and famous women. His heartbreak reputation had been exposed and examined often in the glossies. Though Zakahr usually abhorred the invasion of his privacy, here, on the other side of the world, and especially this morning, it did not faze him, and a wry smile was contained as he thought of the Kolovskys watching the news as they ate breakfast.

He hoped they choked.

Questions were hurled, cameras flashed, and microphones were pushed towards him.

Was the House of Kolovsky being taken over by this European magnate? Or was he here covering while Aleksi Kolovsky honeymooned?

Had he enjoyed the wedding?

Was he a relation?

Where was Nina, the matriarch?

What was his interest in Kolovsky?

That was a question with merit. After all, this fashion industry icon was but loose change to a portfolio like Belenkis.

Zakahr made no comment, and neither would he later.

The facts would soon speak for themselves.

The sun beat on the back of his head. His grey bloodshot eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, his lips were pressed together, his expression unreadable, but he was an imposing sight.

A head above everyone, he was broad-shouldered too. His skin was pale, beautifully clean-shaven, and his black hair was short and neat, but despite the immaculate suit, the glint of an expensive watch and the well-heeled shoes, there was an air of the untamed to hima restlessness beneath the sleek exterior that had the journalists holding back just a touch, with an unusual hesitancy to push for answers. Because no one wanted to be singled out by this man. No one wanted that unleashed power aimed solely at them.

He strode through the street and then up the steps, scattering the press, pushing the golden revolving doors. Zakahr was in.

Perhaps he ought to stand and relish this moment, because finally all this was his. Except there was a hollow feeling inside Zakahr. He relished challengeshad come ready to fightyet when his identity had been revealed the House of Kolovsky had been handed to him on a plate, and it was now for Zakahr to decide what to do with it.

He sensed the unease of everyone around him.

It did not move him.

Mr Belenki.

The greeting followed him. The lift doors were waiting open and he stepped inside. The lift glided up.

He sensed trepidation here too, as he walked out on to the floor that contained his office. As surely as if it had been pumped through the air-conditioning he could feel itin the thick carpets, the walls, behind every door as he walked down the corridor. And they had every right to be nervous. Zakahr Belenki had been called in, and in the business world that heralded change.

No one outside family knew who he really was.

Zakahr headed to his office. He had been here several times now. Just never as Chief.

He opened the heavy wooden doors, ready to claim his birthright, but his moment was broken as he stepped into darkness. Zakahr frowned as he turned on the lights, and then his jaw clenched in angerthere were no staff to greet him, the blinds were not drawn, the computers were off.

Perhaps the Kolovskys thought they were having the last laugh?

Aleksi had at the weekend married his PA, Kate, but he had assured Zakahr that the last few weeks had been spent training her replacementexcept there was no one here.

He headed for a desk, picked up a phone, ready to ring and blast at Reception to get someone up here. But the door opened again, and Zakahr stood, silently fuming, as a stunning blonde came in, wafting fragrance, carrying a large takeaway coffee.

She walked past him to a small office off the main suite, put her drink on the desk, and gave him a quick Sorry Im late as she slipped off her jacket and turned the computer on. Im Lavinia, she added.

I know, Zakahr said, because he had seen her at his brothers wedding on Saturday, and hers was a face men noticed and remembered. She had huge blue eyes and a tumble of blonde hair, achieving a look both glamorous and prettythough Lavinia wasnt looking anything like as amazing as she had at the wedding. There were dark smudges under her eyes, and an air of weariness about her that rather suggested she was more ready for bed than work.

Is this how you make a good first impression? Zakahr asked, used to groomed, beautiful staff members who faded into the backgroundnot someone who burst into a room then pulled out a large magnifying mirror from her drawer and proceeded to put make-up on at her desk.