Читать книгу A Prize Beyond Jewels - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

‘YOU LIKE THIS Raphael D’Angelo who is coming to dine with us this evening?’

Nina tensed, her hand shaking slightly, as she paused in pouring her father’s usual pre-dinner drink of single malt whisky from the cut-glass decanter into one of the matching glasses on the silver salver. She waited several seconds for her hand to stop shaking, and to compose her expression, before she finished pouring, and then turned to carry the glass over to her father. ‘Have I told you how handsome you look this evening, Papa?’ she complimented lightly.

‘A man of almost seventy-nine cannot be called handsome,’ he drawled dismissively, his English still accented, despite his having lived in the States for more than half his life. ‘Distinguished, perhaps. But I am too far beyond the flush of youth to ever be called handsome.’

‘You always look handsome to me, Papa,’ Nina assured him warmly.

Because he did. Her father might be heading towards his eightieth year, but his habitual air of suppressed vitality made him seem much younger, and his iron-grey hair was still thick and plentiful, his face one of chiselled strength, even if his eyes had faded over the years to a pale green rather than the same moss-green as her own.

Her father gave her a knowing look. ‘You are avoiding answering my original question.’

That was probably because Nina had no idea what had prompted her father to ask it.

She had once again spent the day at the gallery, organising the final arrangement of the display cabinets. She’d felt slightly on edge in case she should see Rafe D’Angelo again, and then a certain amount of disappointment when she’d left the gallery at four o’clock without catching so much as a glimpse of its charismatic owner.

A disappointment she had chastised herself for feeling as she lay soaking in a perfumed bath an hour or so later; Rafe D’Angelo was not a man she should become in the least interested in. He was arrogant, mocking, and, even more importantly, not in the least bit interested in her.

Even so, Nina hadn’t been able to resist switching on her laptop and looking him up on the Internet once she had finished her bath, sitting on her bed in her dressing gown, her wet hair wrapped in a towel, to scroll through the pages and pages of information and gossip on the highly photographed Raphael D’Angelo. She’d told herself that it was because she needed to know all that she could about the man her father had invited to dinner this evening—other than the fact that he brought out a physical reaction in her that she found distinctly uncomfortable.

It had taken her several minutes of scrolling before she found a photograph of him from the previous evening, as he enjoyed an intimate dinner for two at an exclusive New York restaurant, with the beautiful actress Jennifer Nichols—obviously the ‘previous engagement’ that had prompted him to refuse her father’s initial dinner invitation. Nina had switched off her laptop in disgust.

Nina had decided that Rafe D’Angelo was nothing more than a rake and a womaniser, and she refused to waste any more of her time—or her emotions—on him.

‘You are still avoiding it, Nina,’ her father prompted gently.

She gave a rueful shake of her head. ‘That’s probably because I have no idea what prompted you to ask such a question, Papa.’

‘You are looking very beautiful this evening, maya doch.’

‘Are you saying I don’t normally?’ she teased.

Her father gave an answering smile. ‘You know you are always beautiful to me, Nina. But tonight you seem to have made a special effort to be so.’

Probably because, after seeing that photograph of Rafe D’Angelo with the actress Jennifer Nichols, that was exactly what she had done! Which was pretty silly of her; she could never hope to compete with the beauty or sophistication of the A-list actress.

Nor should she want to.

Rafe D’Angelo meant nothing to her. As she meant nothing to him.

‘And I do not believe you have made this special effort on my behalf,’ her father added softly. ‘So, do you like this Raphael D’Angelo?’ he persisted.

Nina gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I don’t know him well enough to like or dislike him, Papa.’

‘You spent some time alone with him yesterday.’

She gave a pained frown. ‘I thought we had agreed, after I left Stanford, that I would continue to have my own security detail but that they would only report to you if I was in any danger?’

‘We did,’ her father confirmed unconcernedly. ‘And that has not changed, nor will it. I did not receive this information from your own security detail, Nina. I do not need to do so, when I have my own,’ he added softly.

‘Let me guess, one of the workmen who accompanied me to the gallery yesterday was one of your men,’ she guessed impatiently. ‘Papa, you really shouldn’t have done that.’ She sighed.

He shrugged. ‘I am merely interested to know what you and D’Angelo talked about for the twenty-three minutes you were alone with him in his office,’ he prompted lightly.

‘Twenty-three minutes?’ Nina repeated, incredulous. ‘You timed how long I was in there?’

‘My man did, yes,’ her father dismissed unconcernedly. ‘Are you aware of D’Angelo’s reputation with women?’

‘Papa, I’m not going to discuss this with you any further!’ She threw her hands up in the air in disgust. ‘My meeting yesterday with Rafe D’Angelo was purely business.’

‘Rafe?’

She nodded. ‘It’s what he prefers to be called. And my meeting with him yesterday was on your behalf, I might add.’ She felt a blush warm in her cheeks as she remembered those few seconds, just prior to her leaving Rafe’s office, when it had almost felt as if he had been about to kiss her. Before, because of her own nervousness, she had put an end to that intimacy.

‘I do not want to see you hurt by this man, maya doch,’ her father said gently.

‘And I’m assuring you that isn’t going to happen,’ Nina insisted firmly. ‘I told you, I haven’t even decided yet whether or not I even like Raphael D’Angelo!’

‘That’s a pity, because I’ve decided I like you, Nina,’ drawled an infuriatingly familiar voice.

Nina felt the colour drain from her cheeks as she turned sharply to face Rafe D’Angelo as he stood in the doorway slightly behind her father’s butler, obviously having just arrived, and looking breathtakingly handsome in his black evening clothes, with that overlong ebony hair brushed back from his handsome face.

Rafe almost laughed out loud at the look of dismay on Nina Palitov’s face as she realised he had overheard her telling remark in regard to him.

But he only almost laughed...

Not only was it not particularly amusing to hear her state her uncertainty of liking him so plainly, but the way she looked this evening had totally robbed him of the breath to laugh even if he had wanted to!

Nina was wearing a gown the same moss-green as her eyes, a knee-length sheath of a gown that clung lovingly to her womanly curves, with two ribbon straps across her otherwise bare shoulders and arms, the swell of her breasts visible above the low neckline, those long legs revealed as being slender and shapely, with three-inch-heeled shoes of the same colour as her gown bringing her height up to six feet. Her fiery red hair, that crowning glory, was held back from her temples with two diamond clips, but otherwise fell in that tumbling cascade of curls down the length of her spine to rest above the shapely bottom he had so enjoyed looking at yesterday as she’d walked away from him.

‘Mr D’Angelo, sir.’ The English butler maintained a wooden expression as he belatedly announced Rafe’s arrival.

‘Do come in and join us, Mr D’Angelo,’ his host invited smoothly.

Rafe gave the butler a ruefully sympathetic smile as he stepped past him into the sitting room, that smile freezing, becoming fixed, as he looked at his host fully for the first time and realised that Dmitri Palitov was sitting in a wheelchair rather than one of the cream velvet armchairs!

‘I trust you will understand why I do not get up to greet you, Mr D’Angelo,’ Dmitri Palitov drawled dryly as he obviously saw Rafe’s look of surprise.

A surprise Rafe quickly masked beneath a politely bland smile as he strode across the room to shake the hand the older man held out to him. ‘No problem. And please call me Rafe,’ he invited lightly as he released his hand from the other man’s strong grip. ‘Despite being unsure as to whether or not she likes me, your daughter already calls me Rafe,’ he added softly before glancing challengingly across to where Nina stood silently watching the two men. His glance was slightly censorious, but not because of what Nina had said; Rafe would have appreciated a heads up in regard to knowing her father was in a wheelchair before actually meeting his host this evening.

Although he acknowledged that might have been a little difficult for her to do. Nina had done as he’d asked, and left her father’s address with his assistant earlier, but Rafe admitted to going out of his way to ensure the two of them didn’t actually meet during the hours she had been at the gallery today.

Because he was annoyed.

With himself, not Nina.

Nina could have no idea that his evening with Jennifer Nichols had gone so disastrously wrong for the simple reason he couldn’t stop thinking about Nina. Or, at least, his rebellious body had refused to stop thinking about Nina.

So much so that Rafe hadn’t felt an ounce of desire to bed the beautiful actress at the end of the evening, and had instead merely kissed Jennifer on the cheek after driving her home, before then going home alone to his own apartment and his empty bed. Not to go straight to sleep, unfortunately, as a certain part of his anatomy had refused to comply, and even when he had finally slept it had been fitfully, and filled with dreams of bedding flame-haired Nina!

Consequently Rafe hadn’t been in the best of moods all day; he’d certainly felt no inclination to actually see or talk to the woman who was causing his present lack of sexual desire to bed another woman. Something that had never happened to him before, and Rafe didn’t appreciate that it was happening to him now either.

‘Do not blame Nina for her earlier remark,’ his host advised ruefully. ‘What you overheard her say was merely as a result of my having just teased her.’

Rafe wondered exactly what Dmitri Palitov had been teasing his daughter about to have elicited such a vehement response from her, and that curiosity was added to by the sudden blush that now coloured Nina’s cheeks.

‘Would you care to join me in a glass of whisky before dinner, Rafe?’ his host offered politely.

‘Thank you, Dmitri.’ Rafe nodded, watching through narrowed lids as Nina silently crossed the room to the array of drinks on the sideboard, that red hair like a living flame as it tumbled down the length of her spine as she kept her back turned towards them while she poured his whisky.

‘I trust your previous engagement, yesterday evening, was successful, Rafe?’

Rafe turned back as his host spoke to him once again, knowing by the hardness of the older man’s expression that Dmitri Palitov had noticed his interest in his daughter, and wasn’t sure as to whether he approved or not.

As the other man was also aware of exactly what—and with whom—Rafe’s previous engagement had been last night?

The mockery in those pale green eyes looking so challengingly up into his indicated the answer to that question was a resounding yes. Dmitri Palitov knew exactly where and with whom Rafe had been the previous evening.

‘Really, Papa,’ Nina drawled mockingly as she crossed the room to hand Rafe his glass of whisky, her hand deliberately not coming into contact with his as she did so. ‘We really shouldn’t embarrass Rafe by enquiring as to whether or not he enjoyed his evening with Miss Nichols.’

Great; not only did Dmitri Palitov know who Rafe had spent the previous evening with, but it appeared Nina was aware of it too. And the mockery in her expression as she looked at him from beneath thick dark lashes indicated she had drawn her own conclusions about how that evening had ended too.

Nina felt a certain amount of satisfaction in seeing the look of discomfort on Rafe D’Angelo’s face as he realised both she and her father were aware he had considered an evening—and night?—spent with the beautiful actress to be more pressing than accepting a dinner invitation from an important client of one of the galleries he owned with his two brothers.

‘Not at all,’ he finally answered tautly. ‘And I had a very pleasant evening, thank you.’

Her father chuckled softly. ‘Not much escapes the attention of the press nowadays, Rafe; it is the price one pays when one is in the public eye.’

‘Obviously.’ He scowled as he took a swallow of the whisky in his glass.

Nina felt a certain admiration for the fact that Rafe made no attempt to try and excuse his behaviour; many men, when confronted by a man as powerful as her father, would have tried to bluster their way out of the situation. Obviously, Rafe D’Angelo had no intention of apologising to any man, or woman, for what he did or didn’t choose to do.

‘Perhaps you would care to see the jewellery collection before dinner, Rafe?’ her father offered lightly.

‘I would like that very much, thank you,’ the younger man accepted.

Nina accompanied the two men to her father’s private sanctuary, impressed as Rafe proceeded to murmur both suitable admiration and knowledge of the beautiful jewellery her father had collected over the years.

It really was a truly amazing and unique collection with dozens and dozens of priceless pieces of jewellery; several necklaces, bracelets and rings had once been owned by the Tsarina Alexandra herself. But every single piece of that magnificent collection had a history of its own, and her father had spent years learning every single one of those histories.

The mood for the evening was much more relaxed once they returned to the sitting room, the conversation over dinner lightly interesting as they all first discussed the exhibition to take place next week, before the conversation moved on to politics, and the inevitable subject of sport, most specifically American Football, as the two men lingered over their brandy and cigars.

Nina had contributed to the first three subjects, but American Football just made her want to yawn.

A reaction that made Rafe D’Angelo smile as he caught her in the obvious act of trying to stifle one of those yawns.

‘I believe we’re boring Nina, Dmitri,’ he drawled teasingly, obviously far more relaxed now than he had been when he’d first arrived.

‘Doch?’ Her father looked at her enquiringly.

‘I’m a little tired, that’s all,’ Nina assured with a smile.

‘It’s late.’ Rafe nodded. ‘Time I was leaving.’

‘Please don’t go on my account,’ Nina protested awkwardly. ‘It’s been a busy week, that’s all.’

‘No, I really should go now. I have work in the morning,’ he assured dismissively. ‘Perhaps I could escort you home, Nina?’ he added huskily.

She felt her heart beat faster, louder, at the thought of having the rakishly handsome Rafe D’Angelo escort her to her door, perhaps to even have him kiss her goodnight—

Obviously she had drunk far too much of her father’s excellent wine with her meal, because Rafe hadn’t so much as hinted this evening, by word or deed, that he was in the least interested in kissing her goodnight!

No, his offer to escort her home had obviously been made out of politeness, and possibly even as a sop to her father’s obviously old-fashioned manners.

‘That is very gentlemanly of you, Rafe.’ Surprisingly her father was the one to answer the other man before Nina had a chance to do so.

‘My daughter has become far too independent, after her years at university, for my liking.’

Rafe saw the flash of irritation in Nina’s eyes before it was quickly masked. As evidence that she didn’t particularly enjoy, or want, to have those bodyguards following her about day, and possibly night, too? He would well imagine it could feel extremely stifling, as well as being a complete downer on her personal life.

Which posed the question, did Nina have a man in that personal life? Rafe would imagine it would take a very determined man to date the daughter of Dmitri Palitov, let alone put up with the oppressive presence of those bodyguards every time the two of them went out together. And as for moving on to anything more intimate, well, it must be a logistical, and emotional, nightmare!

It also begged the question as to why Nina put up with it. She was a beautiful woman in her mid-twenties, obviously intelligent to have obtained a degree from Stanford, and her comments during the conversation this evening had been both learned and considered. She was also well qualified, and possessed a true talent for design, if those beautiful display cases in the east gallery at Archangel were an indication of her work, so why did she continue to allow her father to limit and watch her movements in the obsessive way that he did?