cases are exquisite.’
‘Thank you,’ she accepted shyly.
Nina had worked on making the display cases for almost four months now, since her father had first proposed the idea of exhibiting his jewellery collection in one of the New York galleries, taking several weeks and consultations with her father to decide on a combination of smooth pewter and bevelled glass, so as not to detract from the beauty of the jewels themselves. Each display case had its own intricate lock and security code, a code known only to Nina and her father. ‘They will look even more impressive once the jewellery is inside them.’
‘I’m sure.’ Rafe D’Angelo nodded abruptly. ‘The exhibition doesn’t open until Saturday; surely it isn’t going to take you more than a day or so to organise the display?’
‘It’s a very large collection.’
‘Even so...’
Nina eyed him teasingly. ‘If I didn’t know better, Rafe, I would think that you were trying to get rid of me for at least three of those four days?’
And she would be right in thinking that, Rafe acknowledged with rising impatience. Damn it, he had the whole of Archangel to run, not just the Palitov Exhibition, and he didn’t have the time—or the inclination—to cater to the whims and demands of the Palitov family. ‘Not at all,’ he dismissed smoothly.
‘I spoke to my father on the telephone earlier, and he wishes me to extend his compliments to you, and invite you to his home for dinner this evening, if that’s convenient?’ the youngest member of the Palitov family invited formally.
The frown deepened on Rafe’s brow at the invitation, knowing that Dmitri Palitov was as socially elusive as he was reclusive, but he now appeared to be inviting Rafe to go to his home for dinner this evening. Understandably so, perhaps, considering Rafe was now the D’Angelo brother in charge of the New York gallery the other man was entrusting his beloved jewellery collection to.
Rafe accepted all of that, he would just prefer not to become any more involved with the Palitov family than he already was, with Nina Palitov in particular. He especially didn’t want the watchful Dmitri Palitov to witness Rafe’s noticeably physical reaction to the man’s daughter.
‘Rafe?’
He scowled, his mouth firming. ‘I have a previous engagement this evening, I’m afraid.’ Thank heavens!
‘I see.’ Nina Palitov looked more than a little surprised at his refusal.
And no doubt that surprise was due to the fact that not too many people, if they were privileged enough to receive an invitation of any kind from the powerful Dmitri Palitov, would ever think of refusing it. As Rafe knew on a professional level he shouldn’t refuse this dinner invitation either, but rather reorganise his date with the actress Jennifer Nichols for another evening instead. No doubt that was what Michael would expect him to do, but, as Rafe was feeling far from pleased with Michael at the moment, he really didn’t give a damn what his big brother did or didn’t think!
Nina knew that her father, for all that he had made the dinner invitation a request, would still be far from pleased that Rafe D’Angelo had refused that invitation.
At the same time as she, personally, couldn’t help but admire Rafe for doing so. She loved her father dearly, but that didn’t prevent her from being fully aware of the fact that his power made him far too accustomed to having his own way, to exerting his will on others, and expecting them to ask ‘how high’ when he said jump. Rafe D’Angelo obviously wasn’t one of those people.
She nodded. ‘My father suggested, if that should be the case, that you choose another evening convenient to yourself?’
‘Let’s see.’ He made a point of opening and checking the large diary on his desk. ‘Tomorrow evening seems to be free at the moment?’
‘If that should change you can let me know tomorrow.’ Nina nodded, still amused rather than concerned by Rafe’s determination not to be dictated to by her father.
He raised dark brows. ‘You still plan on coming in to the gallery every day?’
‘My father expects it.’
Rafe D’Angelo relaxed back against his high-backed black leather chair as he looked at her through narrowed lids. ‘And do you always do what your father expects?’
Nina stiffened at the taunting tone in his voice. ‘It causes him less distress if I do, so yes,’ she confirmed abruptly.
‘Distress?’ He quirked one dark and mocking brow.
‘Yes.’ Nina had no intention of elaborating on that explanation.
Her father’s reasons for being so protective of her were none of Rafe D’Angelo’s business. Or anyone else’s, for that matter. It was what it was, and Nina accepted it as such. If she occasionally chafed against her father’s need for that protection, then that was her own affair, and not Rafe D’Angelo’s.
His golden, predatory gaze now raked over her with a deliberate, and mercilessly male, assessment, causing Nina’s nipples to swell and firm as that gaze finally settled on the pertness of her breasts as they pressed snugly against her T-shirt. Nina drew her breath in softly as the cotton material acted as a mild abrasive against her bared flesh, deepening that arousal, at the same time as she felt a hot gush of dampness between her thighs.
Her body didn’t seem to care that Rafe D’Angelo had deliberately set out to cause this response in her, that he was no doubt amusing himself at her expense as the ache in her nipples became an unbearable torture, and between her thighs swelled, became even more moist, as if in readiness for the stroke, the entry, of this man’s touch.
But Nina cared. Her father’s years of protection might have made her totally inadequate when it came to dealing with men as experienced as Rafe D’Angelo, but she wasn’t about to let herself be the cause of any man’s amusement, least of all the arrogant and mocking Rafe D’Angelo.
She stood up abruptly. ‘I’ll inform my father that you’ve accepted his dinner invitation for tomorrow evening,’ she bit out abruptly.
Rafe raised his gaze reluctantly from enjoying the pertness of Nina Palitov’s breasts, part of that enjoyment having been knowing, by the sudden tautness and swelling of her nipples, that she was far from immune to his appreciative gaze.
But one look at Nina’s face, seeing the pained accusation in those moss-green eyes, the creamy pallor of her cheeks, and the defensive angle of her little pointed chin, and he felt like a complete heel for having behaved so badly. He was angry with his own unexpected physical response to this woman, with Michael for putting him in this position in the first place, even a little with Dmitri Palitov for the same reason, but that didn’t give him the right to take that anger out on Nina.
Rafe stood up to move round to the side of his desk, the two of them now standing only inches apart. ‘Will you be joining us for dinner tomorrow evening?’ he prompted softly.
She looked up at him warily. ‘I believe my father will expect me to be there to act as his hostess, yes.’
His brows rose. ‘You don’t live with your father?’
‘Not quite.’ Nina smiled slightly as she
