The Last Kolovsky Playboy by Carol Marinelli Read Free Book Online Page A

first.
    Never had they flirted.
    Not once at work had there been an exchange.
    She blushed often—but only at his debauchery.
    Not once had there been…
    She couldn’t even really work out what had happened as she walked away from him to greet the bride-to-be. And she might just as well have sent Lavinia, because with her mind still on Aleksi it was almost impossible to concentrate on the Princess as Security opened up and they walked into the bridal area.
    It was a jewel of a place that few witnessed.
    Every House of Kolovsky boutique was a work of art in itself—but this was not a boutique; this was Kolovsky Bridal and it was hallowed ground indeed.
    There were no walls or ceiling as such. As they walked towards the centre there were simply endless stretches of the most divine silks—the palest of blush-pinks, and every shade of cream—handmade silk that the skin ached to feel. It was like being pulled into a silken womb with each step. The huge antique mirrors were not just for aesthetics. Already the team were watching the soon-to-be bride—her posture, her figure, her gait—their brilliant minds already working on the ultimate creation for this woman, whose beauty, hidden or otherwise, was as of this moment the only thing on their minds.
    There was no second store, no chain, no Kolovsky designers jetting overseas to take measurements.
    Kolovsky did not chase anyone—to wear their art, you had to be present.
    Of course their client would stay in Melbourne for a few days—being pampered, going through designs, being measured, seeing portrayed images of the creation on the screen—and finally there would be a follow-up visit to the bride. Then, only then, did Kolovsky come to them.
    A team was dispatched a week prior to the date with the creation to wherever the wedding was to be—not just style consultants for the dress, but hair and make-up artists, an entire team to ensure that the bride who wore Kolovsky was the most beautiful.
    ‘This…’ The Princess spoke only broken English as they passed lavish display cabinets which held tiaras and shoes and jewels. Those weren’t what she noticed, however. The Princess did what every woman who entered this chamber did. She walked or rather was hypnotically drawn to the divine dress in the centre. ‘This one. I choose this one.’
    ‘This is not to be reproduced,’ Kate explained. ‘This is the Kolovsky dress, designed for a Kolovsky or a soon-to-be Kolovsky bride.’
    ‘I want,’ the princess said, and her mother nodded—because there was nothing on God’s earth that this family could not afford…except what was not for sale.
    ‘Your dress will be designed with only you in mind,’ Kate explained. ‘This dress was designed for someone else.’
    The design team took over then, coming out to greet the bride and her mother, pulling her into the very centre, and as the Princess went Kate watched as she gave one last lingering look at the gown on display.
    There could never be anything more beautiful.
    Georgie never wrapped herself in sheets or put a towel on her head as a make-believe veil—but Kate had done. She had adored dressing up as a child and, watching a royal wedding on the television, had wanted, wished, hoped that one day she would be as beautiful as the bride who walked blushing up the aisle towards her prince. Her mother had said that she had a goodimagination—which she had—but even if her imagination could somehow transform her from tubby and serious to petite and pleasing, her secret, wildest dreams could never have conjured up this dress…
    Kolovsky silk, so rumour had it, was like an opal—it changed with the mood of the woman whose skin it clung to. Each time Kate saw the dress it seemed slightly different—golden, silver, white, even transparent. Sewn into the bodice were tiny jewels, and there were more hidden in the hem, just as Ivan and Nina had hidden their treasures when they fled Russia for the haven of Australia.
    This dress