eleven o’clock be convenient to you, Mr D’Angelo?’ she bit out huskily.
‘I’ll make sure that it is,’ he drawled softly.
Nina was very aware that somewhere during the course of this exchange Raphael D’Angelo had taken control of the conversation—and her? His air of lazy confidence and power implied that he preferred always to be in control.
Even when he was in bed with a woman?
Nina felt the colour warm her cheeks for a second time in as many minutes as she realised that Raphael D’Angelo was responsible for bringing those totally inappropriate thoughts into her head.
Why were they so inappropriate?
She was twenty-four years old, with a slender figure, and the way men looked at her told her she wasn’t unattractive. And Raphael D’Angelo was dangerously, overwhelmingly handsome in a swarthily Latin way that she realised made her nerve-endings sizzle. They were both over twenty-one, so why shouldn’t she indulge in a little light flirtation with him?
Because it wasn’t something she was accustomed to doing, came the instant, and sad, reply. Her father was very protective of her, claustrophobically so at times, and it was a little difficult to enjoy a flirtation with an attractive man with two bodyguards always standing at her back. Especially when those same two bodyguards would no doubt report that behaviour back to her father if necessary.
Besides, she might have only just met him for the first time, but it was long enough to know that Raphael D’Angelo really was too dangerous a man for Nina to practise her relatively inexperienced flirtation skills on.
She knew his reputation, of course; even she had heard the New York gossip about this particular D’Angelo brother, enough to know that Raphael D’Angelo’s relationships with women were brief and numerous, and that there was no such thing as a light flirtation where this particular man was concerned.
‘Do that.’ Nina nodded abruptly, her defensive hackles rising.
Those golden eyes narrowed to steely slits. ‘I believe, as it seems we will be required to spend a certain amount of time together over the next few weeks, that you will find me to be much more amenable to your needs if our relationship is one based on mutual respect.’
Nina blinked. ‘It’s been my experience that respect is earned rather than a given.’
His jaw tightened. ‘Meaning?’
Nina kept her expression deliberately blank. ‘I don’t believe there was any hidden meaning to my comment, Mr D’Angelo, merely a statement of fact.’
Rafe doubted that very much.
Damn, but this woman was irritating. Cool, detached—and damned irritating!
She was also beautiful, in an exotically unusual way; a man could drown in those deep moss-green eyes, become lost in caressing the smooth softness of her skin, and as for those lush and kissable lips? Rafe had no idea what her breasts were like, of course, hidden as they were beneath that bulky black sweatshirt, but her hips and thighs were slender, her legs so long they seemed to go on for ever. As for that abundance of long and curling silkily soft hair, Rafe couldn’t ever remember seeing hair of quite that fiery colour before, natural golden and russet highlights visible amongst the red as her sunlit hair surrounded her face like a halo.
Yes, Nina Palitov was all of those things: irritating, beautiful, and desirable—and completely out of any man’s reach, if the two heavies standing guard behind her were any indication. And they so obviously were; both men were still eyeing him suspiciously.
She was also, most tellingly of all, the daughter of Dmitri Palitov, the powerful billionaire who took the term reclusive to a whole new level!
She nodded now. ‘Obviously I would like the gallery’s security to be part of our conversation.’
Rafe looked at her through narrowed lids. ‘Archangel’s security is my concern, Miss Palitov, not yours.’
She gave a shrug. ‘I suggest you read clause seven of the contract your brother Michael signed with my father, Mr D’Angelo. I believe you will find that particular clause states that I have the final say in all security provided for the gallery during the showing of my father’s unique jewellery collection.’
What on earth?
Michael had mentioned that Palitov intended to supply his own security for the collection, but at no time had he even suggested that included all of the gallery’s security.
Having arrived in New York only the day before, Rafe hadn’t yet had time to look in any detail at the contract Archangel had signed with Dmitri Palitov. He had trusted Michael to have dealt with it with his usual ruthless efficiency.
But if what Nina Palitov claimed was true, and Rafe had no reason to believe that it wasn’t, then he needed to have a little chat with his big brother.
Admittedly the exhibition of the Palitov jewellery was a coup for Archangel, it would be a coup for any gallery, when the much-coveted collection had never been shown in public before, but that didn’t mean they had to allow the Palitov family to just walk in here and take over the whole damned place.
Nina had to hold back a smile as she easily read the frustration in Raphael D’Angelo’s expression, inwardly knowing she felt a certain sense of satisfaction in having managed to pierce the confidence of this arrogant man. Raphael D’Angelo was so obviously a man used to issuing orders and having them obeyed without question, and she could see his discomfort now in having been so totally wrong-footed.
And no doubt he would have something to say to his older brother, when next the two men spoke, regarding the concessions Michael D’Angelo had been required to make in order to be able to exhibit her father’s jewellery collection.
Nina perfectly understood her father’s caution; he had collected the unique and priceless jewellery over many years, and as such it was completely irreplaceable.
‘Do you intend trying to change the terms of that contract? If so, perhaps we should call a halt to bringing in any more display cases until after you’ve spoken with my father?’
‘I don’t believe I mentioned changing the terms of the contract, Miss Palitov,’ Raphael D’Angelo bit out harshly.
‘Nina,’ she invited softly.
‘Rafe,’ he countered, golden eyes glittering angrily.
Rafe.
Yes, the shortened version, the rakish version, of this man’s name suited him far more than the more formal Raphael.
‘Nor do I react well to threats, Nina,’ he drawled softly.
‘I believe you will find I made a statement rather than a threat, Rafe,’ she replied just as ultra-politely. ‘As I also believe you will find that the contract between my father and your brother is completely binding on both sides.’
Nina had been present on the day Michael D’Angelo had met with her father at his Manhattan apartment, both men also having their lawyers present in order to check the details of the contract before it was signed by both of them. Her father never left anything to chance, and the safety of his beloved
