Free A Bride for Kolovsky by Carol Marinelli

her, but…’ She shook her head. ‘I need to think.’
    â€˜You need a lawyer…’ Zakahr said.
    â€˜I need a drink,’ Lavinia corrected, pulling the ring on an energy drink as Katina waltzed in with an armful of gowns. ‘And to get ready.’ She gave him a thin smile. ‘Thank you for listening.’
    Zakahr shook his head. ‘I wish you would listen.’

CHAPTER SEVEN
    â€˜N O .’ K ATINA was definite. ‘It’s not your colour.’
    â€˜It’s stunning,’ Lavinia begged—because the dress was heavenly, and more importantly they had not a moment to spare.
    But Katina would not budge.
    â€˜You represent Kolovsky. You’re dining with a king. I choose.’ Katina pulled down the zipper and Lavinia wriggled out. Katina bundled up the peach dress with a warning to Lavinia to do her make-up as she left her standing in her panties and bra. ‘You’re running very late.’
    She would have put on her war paint—except her make-up bag was at her desk.
    Had it been Aleksi, or even Levander, she’d have just padded out there—not caring if they were there or not. She’d even have answered the phone had it been ringing. The brothers were so used to it they wouldn’t notice. But Zakahr came from the staid world of finance.
    With Zakahr—Lavinia swallowed—it was different. Very different indeed.
    â€˜Would you mind fetching me my bag?’ She settled for popping her head around the door and calling outto him. But Zakahr was in his own office, and he could not believe her gall.
    He walked out to tell her so—and there was her skinny shoulder and her clavicle, and the deep red silk strap of a bra. He got that this was normal around here—he had been down to the design rooms and the dressing rooms and had seen far more than a shoulder—and he was also exceptionally used to women in their natural form in his own personal life.
    â€˜It’s in the second drawer,’ Lavinia directed.
    He practically threw it at her.
    â€˜Thank you.’
    â€˜You could have waited till you were dressed and got it yourself,’ he said tartly.
    â€˜And spilled foundation on a Kolovsky creation? I don’t think so,’ Lavinia called back. But despite her quick comeback she was blushing right down to her toes, and she leant her head on the door for a moment as she closed it.
    Why did he have to go and be nice about Rachael? Why couldn’t he have ignored her, as he had all morning? How, how , was she supposed to get through tonight?
    It was too dangerous to ponder, so she drained her energy drink and then slapped on some foundation, rouged a cleavage where there was none, and painted her face with more than her usual care. By then Katina had returned. Lavinia frowned at the rather bold colours, but she held up her arms as the dress slithered down her skin, delighting in the rich caress of the silk. And, yes, when she stepped back and looked in the mirror Lavinia accepted that Katina had been right!
    â€˜It’s perfect,’ Lavinia breathed, craning her neck for a view from behind as Katina strapped her into the highest of heels. ‘I’d never have chosen these colours.’
    â€˜I told you…’ Katina said, and she stepped back, scrutinising Lavinia carefully. And she was never one to lavish compliments—at least not with the staff. ‘I wasn’t sure you could carry it off.’ She handed her a sheer golden net overcoat, and before she left warned Lavinia she had to sign it in when she brought it back in the morning.
    â€˜But for now you’re all mine!’ Lavinia grinned at the mirror.
    Her hair had been curled into long thick blonde ringlets, and loosely piled on top of her head, and her eyes were bluer than ever, thanks to lashings of mascara. But her lipstick was neutral, and she added one final layer of gloss before stepping out to where Zakahr stood,