Carol Marinelli

The Last Kolovsky Playboy


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And by the end of the day, no matter how she tamed it, or smothered it in serum or glossed it and straightened it, her hair was a spiral mass of frizzy curls. Her make-up, no matter how she followed advice, no matter how carefully she applied it, had slid off her face by lunchtime, and her figure—well, it simply didn’t work in the fashion industry.

      Kate pretended to be washing her hands as an effortless beauty came in and didn’t even pretend she was here for the loo. She just touched up her make-up, hoiked her non-existent breasts a little higher in her bra and played with her hair for a moment before leaving.

      She didn’t acknowledge Kate—didn’t glance in her direction.

      Kate was nothing—no challenge, no competition. Nothing.

      If only she knew, Kate thought, watching in the mirror as the trim little bottom wiggled out on legs that should surely snap.

      If only they knew her secret.

      That sometimes…Kate stared in the mirror at the glitter in her eyes, a small smile on her lips as she recalled the memories she and Aleksi occasionally made. Sometimes, when Georgie was at her grandparents’, Aleksi would come to her, would leave the glitz and the glamour and arrive on her doorstep in the still of the night.

      They never discussed it. He was always gone by the morning. And it wasn’t as if they slept together. In fact in their entire history they’d shared just two kisses—one when Georgie was born; one the night before the accident.

      And, yes, a kiss from a Kolovsky meant very little. It was currency to them, easily earned, carelessly spent, but for Kate it was her most treasured memory.

      Oh, if only they knew that sometimes, late in the night, Aleksi Kolovsky came to her door, wanting her company.

      ‘You’re to go in.’ Lavinia sat scowling when Kate returned, clearly annoyed at having been asked to leave the meeting.

      Stepping into the room, had she not known, Kate would never have guessed the two people in there were mother and son. The air sizzled with hatred, and the tension was palpable. Aleksi was on the telephone, speaking in Arabic—just one of his impressive skills—but when he replaced the receiver he wasted no time getting straight to the point.

      ‘Nina has agreed to delay a formal proposal to the board for a fortnight, but she will then propose her takeover of the company, with the board to vote in two months.’

      Kate couldn’t look at him as he spoke, so her eyes flicked to Nina instead—not a muscle flickered in her Botoxed face.

      ‘My mother says the board is concerned by my behaviour, and that she is worried about my health and the pressure.’ He dragged out each syllable, his lips curling in distaste, but still Nina sat impassive. ‘I want Kolovsky and Krasavitsa to be treated as two separate entities in the vote. In return, Nina wants the full trajectory reports for Krasavitsa, along with past figures…’

      Krasavitsa meant beautiful woman, and was a clothing and accessories range aimed at the younger market. The garments and jewels were still extravagant and expensive, still eagerly sought, but not, as was Kolovsky, exclusive.

      The idea and its inception had been Aleksi’s. In fact it had been his first major project when he had taken over the helm. The launch had gone well. Krasavitsa was the toast of Paris—and every young, beautiful, rich girl, according to their figures, surely by now had at least one piece in their wardrobe, or in their underwear drawer.

      And when that beautiful young woman matured into full womanhood, as Aleksi had said at numerous board meetings, she would crave Kolovsky.

      It had been Aleksi’s pet, and he had nurtured it from the very start—but, it would seem, not satisfied just with Kolovsky, Nina wanted Krasavitsa too.

      ‘Nina has all the figures,’ Kate said, and then swallowed as Nina snorted.

      ‘The real figures,’ Nina said. ‘Not the doctored version. I want the real figures.’

      ‘It might take a while.’ Aleksi’s voice was tart. ‘There are other things I need to sort out before I go through figures. The call I just took was from Sheikh Amallah’s private secretary…’

      Kate watched as only then did Nina show a hint of nervousness, her tongue bobbing out to moisten her lower lip.

      ‘It would take thousands of the cheap, rubbish wedding dresses you have in mind to match the price of his daughter’s Kolovsky gown.’ Even though he wasn’t shouting, it was clear Aleksi was livid. ‘Yet you couldn’t even be bothered to meet her at the airport!’

      ‘I had Lavinia go!’ Nina said defensively.

      ‘Lavinia!’ Aleksi gave a black laugh, then whistled through his teeth. ‘You just don’t get it, do you? You really don’t understand.’ He looked over to Kate. ‘Arrange dinner, and then tell them Nina is looking forward to it.’

      ‘I’m not going to dinner tonight!’ Nina spoke as if he’d gone completely mad. ‘You go,’ she said. ‘You speak their language.’

      ‘I hardly think the Sheikh will want his virgin daughter going out for dinner with me!’ Now he shouted. Now he really shouted! ‘For now, I’m in charge, and don’t forget it. For now, at least, we do things my way.’

      ‘Well, I want those figures by next Monday.’ Nina glowered at Aleksi. ‘Only then will I make my decision.’

      ‘You can fight me on Kolovsky,’ Aleksi said. ‘But I will never concede Krasavitsa. That was my idea.’

      ‘Krasavitsa would be nothing without my husband’s name…’

      And that, Kate realised as she watched a muscle leap in Aleksi’s cheek, was what appeared to hurt the most. A blistering row with his mother didn’t dent him, but the insinuation that without Kolovsky he was nothing was the thing that truly galled him.

      ‘You have no idea what you are doing.’ Aleksi stared at his mother. ‘Follow your plans and the Kolovsky name will be worth nothing in a few years.’

      ‘These are tough times Aleksi,’ Nina stood to leave. ‘We have to do what it takes to survive.’

      He just sat there when she had left.

      ‘Is Kolovsky in trouble?’ Kate couldn’t help but ask.

      ‘It will be.’ Aleksi shook his head in wonder. ‘We are doing well—but she strikes fear where there is none.’ He rested his elbows on his desk and pressed his fingers to his temples. ‘Belenki has suggested these off-the-peg bridal gowns and the bedding range. It is supposed to be a one-off—just for a year—with ten percent of the profits going to both our charities: his outreach work in Russia and the orphanages my mother sponsors.’ He looked up to her. ‘What do you think, Kate?’

      He’d never asked her opinion on work before, but before she could reply he did so for her.

      ‘It sounds like a good idea,’ he said, and reluctantly she nodded. ‘But I know it will be the beginning of the end for Kolovsky. Belenki surely also knows that; exclusivity is why Kolovsky has survived this long. I don’t like him…’ He halted, then frowned when Kate agreed.

      ‘You said you didn’t trust him.’

      Aleksi’s eyes shot to hers. ‘When?’

      ‘The night before the accident…’ Her face was on fire. ‘When you came to my home.’ But clearly he was uncomfortable with the memory, because he snapped back into business mode.

      ‘Get the figures ready for me,’ Aleksi said. ‘The real figures. But don’t give them to Nina until I’ve gone through them.’

      ‘She’ll know if you change them.’

      ‘She couldn’t read STUPID if it was written in ten-foot letters on the wall,’ Aleksi said. ‘Just get them ready for me.’ As she turned to