‘I don’t recall your having asked me to go out with you again,’ Nina drawled derisively. ‘But you’re quite right in assuming my answer would have been no if you had,’ she continued firmly as he would have spoken. ‘It’s time to get back to the real world.’

‘And your real world doesn’t have a place in it for me?’

The only place Nina wanted Rafe in her life was one she could never have, and nor was it one he was interested in occupying. Rafe had never pretended to be anything other than what he was: a thirty-four-year-old very eligible and handsome bachelor, who enjoyed women—lots of them.

Unfortunately Nina knew she wasn’t made that way—which was why it was better, for both of them, if this ended now. She had to end this before she lost her pride as well as her heart.

She raised her chin determinedly. ‘Not at this point in time, no.’

He raised dark brows. ‘And do you ever see a time when that might change …?’

‘No.’

One night was all they would have.

All they’d had …

Because Nina had left him in no doubt that she considered the two of them already to be in the past tense …

THE DEVILISH D’ANGELOS

Sinners named for saints …

Known around the world for the prestigious Archangel auction houses and galleries in London, New York and Paris, the D’Angelo brothers are notorious for their prowess in the art world … and even more so for their exploits in their personal lives.

These Italian heartthrobs might have been named for angels, but their ruthless natures and powerful personas make them anything but angelic …

Soar to LONDON for Gabriel D’Angelo’s story in: A BARGAIN WITH THE ENEMY February 2014

Sail to NEW YORK for Raphael D’Angelo’s story in: A PRIZE BEYOND JEWELS March 2014

Fly to PARIS for Michael D ‘Angelo’s story in: A D’ANGELO LIKE NO OTHER April 2014

Enter the exclusive world of the D’Angelo’s in this dazzling new trilogy from Carole Mortimer!

A Prize Beyond Jewels

Carole Mortimer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CAROLE MORTIMER was born in England, the youngest of three children. She began writing in 1978, and has now written over one hundred and fifty books for Harlequin Mills & Boon®. Carole has six sons: Matthew, Joshua, Timothy, Michael, David and Peter. She says, ‘I’m happily married to Peter senior; we’re best friends as well as lovers, which is probably the best recipe for a successful relationship. We live in a lovely part of England.’ Carole loves to hear from her readers. She can be reached at contact@carolemortimer.co.uk, or her website www.carolemortimer.co.uk

Recent titles by the same author:

A BARGAIN WITH THE ENEMY

(The Devilish D ‘Angelos) RUMOURS ON THE RED CARPET (Scandal in the Spotlight) A TOUCH OF NOTORIETY A TASTE OF THE FORBIDDEN (Buenos Aires Nights)

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Peter, as always.

Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EXCERPT

PROLOGUE

St Mary’s Church, London.

‘IT’S NOT TOO late, Gabe,’ Rafe drawled softly. The church was packed with his brother’s softly chatting wedding guests as they waited for the bride to arrive.

‘I checked earlier. There’s a door at the back of the vestry where you can escape...’

‘Shut up, Rafe.’ His two brothers, one seated either side of Rafe, spoke together; Gabriel with the tension of the anxious bridegroom, and Michael with his customary terseness.

‘Hush, Rafe.’ Their father spoke with soft warning from the pew behind them.

Rafe grinned unrepentantly. ‘The jet is just sitting there on the tarmac at the airport, Gabe, and instead of flying off to the Caribbean for your honeymoon, you could just get the hell out of Dodge.’

‘Will you just stop?’ Gabriel turned to glare at him, his face white and strained as he waited for the start of the organ music that would announce the arrival of his bride at the church. Bryn was already five minutes late, and each minute had seemed like an hour, deepening the lines of tension in his brow.

Rafe’s grin widened as he relaxed back in the pew, having long considered teasing both of his brothers as being part of his role in life.

‘You and Michael would never have had any adventures at all if it weren’t for me!’

‘Marriage to Bryn is going to be biggest adventure of my life,’ Gabriel assured him with certainty.

Rafe was aware of how many years his brother had been in love with Bryn, a love his brother had believed was doomed to remain unrequited until just a short month ago.

‘She’s gorgeous, I’ll admit that.’

‘Rafe, will you just stop winding him up?’ Michael, the eldest of the three brothers, clipped abruptly as Gabriel’s hands clenched and unclenched. ‘We don’t need a fist fight between the groom and one of the best men to liven up the proceedings!’

‘I was only—’ Rafe broke off as the ringtone of his mobile jarred loudly in the relative silence of the church.

‘I told you to switch that damned thing off before you came into the church!’ Gabriel turned on him fiercely, obviously relieved to have something tangible to vent his tension on.

‘I thought I had.’ Rafe grimaced as he pulled the slim mobile from the breast pocket of his morning jacket and quickly turned it to silent mode before slipping it back in his pocket. ‘But seriously, Gabe, you still have time to slip out the back of the church and make your escape before anyone is any the wiser.’

‘Raphael Charles D’Angelo!’

Rafe winced, having absolutely no idea how his mother, very petite at all of five feet tall, still managed to silence each and every one of her three six-foot-plus sons, all aged in their thirties, with just their full name spoken in that particularly reproving tone of voice!

Although he was thankfully saved from having to turn and face further admonishment from her as the organ played out the wedding march, announcing Bryn’s arrival.

The tension instantly eased from Gabriel’s shoulders as the three brothers stood up.

Rafe winced as he felt the vibration of his mobile against his chest to announce another incoming call. He chose to ignore it as he turned to look at Bryn as she walked slowly down the aisle on her stepfather’s arm.

‘Oh, wow, Gabe, Bryn looks absolutely stunning,’ he breathed sincerely. Bryn a vision in white lace and satin, the glow of her smile as she looked down the aisle at Gabriel enough to light up the whole church.

‘Of course she does,’ Gabriel murmured smugly, an expression of adoration on his face as he gazed at the woman he loved more than life itself.

* * *

‘Who the hell would be crass enough to phone you during your own brother’s wedding?’ Michael demanded critically as he joined Rafe to one side of where the wedding guests now stood outside the church in the summer sunshine, watching indulgently as the bride and groom were photographed together. Both Gabriel and Bryn were glowing with happiness.

Rafe grimaced as he looked up from checking his mobile; this was the first occasion he’d had to look for any messages. ‘Just a friend calling to warn me that Monique is on the warpath since she found out I won’t be returning to Paris after the wedding.’

The three brothers rotated the management of the three privately owned and world-renowned Archangel galleries and auction houses. Michael would be taking over from Rafe at the Paris gallery on Monday, Gabe was to be based in London once he had returned from his honeymoon, and Rafe was flying to New York tomorrow to take over the gallery there.

‘You couldn’t have just told her that before you left?’ Michael barked irritably.

Rafe shrugged. ‘I thought I had.’

‘Obviously she didn’t get the message.’ Michael scowled before turning to look over at Gabriel and Bryn between narrowed lids. ‘Can you believe our little brother is now a married man?’

Rafe gave an affectionate grin as he also looked over at the happy couple. ‘And obviously loving every minute of it!’ And Gabriel wasn’t such a ‘little’ brother to them either, only two years younger than Michael’s thirty-five, and one year younger than Rafe’s thirty-four.

As well as being close in age, the three brothers were alike in their appearance and colouring: all tall and ruggedly handsome, with ebony-dark hair, brown eyes, and olive-toned skin, all courtesy of their Italian grandfather.

Michael was the remote and austere brother, preferring to keep his ebony hair styled short, his eyes so deep brown they appeared piercing black, and just as unfathomable as the man behind those eyes.

Gabriel was quietly but lethally determined, his hair curling about his ears and nape, his eyes a warm chocolate-brown.

Meanwhile Rafe kept his hair styled well below his collar, and much longer than either of his two brothers, and his eyes were so light brown that they glowed with the gold of a predator. He was also considered by most to be the least serious of the three D’Angelo brothers. At least by those who didn’t really know him well; those that did were fully aware that Rafe was just as steely as his two brothers beneath that outwardly flirtatious and teasing manner.

Michael raised mocking brows. ‘I take it that Monique wasn’t the one for you, any more than the rest of the legion of women you’ve been involved with over the last fifteen years?’

Rafe gave his brother a pitying look. ‘I’m not looking for “the one”, thank you very much!’

Michael smiled slightly. ‘One of these days she might just find you!’

‘Hah, in your dreams.’ Rafe chuckled. ‘I accept that Gabe is ecstatically happy with Bryn, but I don’t for one minute believe in that “one love of your life” thing when it comes to myself. Any more than you do,’ he added knowingly.

‘No,’ his brother confirmed emphatically, his eyes an unreadable black. ‘I’m not going to be plagued with telephone calls and visits from this Monique woman when I get to Paris, am I, pleading with me to tell her where you are and how she can contact you?’

‘I hope not.’ Rafe sighed wearily. ‘We had fun for a few weeks, but now it’s over.’

Michael gave a shake of his head, his expression one of irritation.

‘She doesn’t seem to realise that.’ He gave Rafe a hard stare. ‘Perhaps you could turn your charm onto something more useful once you get to New York? Dmitri Palitov’s daughter will be coming to the gallery on Tuesday,’ he explained at Rafe’s questioning look. ‘She’s personally overseeing the installation of the display cabinets she designed for her father’s jewellery exhibition at the gallery next weekend. She will be staying for the duration of the exhibition, along with Palitov’s own security.’

Rafe’s eyes widened disbelievingly. ‘What the hell?’

‘Palitov wanting his own security is understandable.’ His brother gave a brief shrug. ‘Allowing his daughter to design the display cabinets and her continued presence at the gallery before and during the exhibition were also conditions for Palitov agreeing to there being an exhibition at all.’

Rafe was as aware as Michael that it was a coup for the Archangel gallery that the reclusive Russian billionaire had agreed to allow his private collection to be exhibited at all. No one but Dmitri Palitov had seen the majority of that jewellery for decades, some of it reputed to have belonged to the Tsarina herself, after it had disappeared from Russia last century.

‘I’m relying on you to keep the daughter sweet for the next few weeks,’ Michael added.

‘What exactly does that mean?’ Rafe frowned incredulously. ‘Palitov is pushing eighty, so how old is his daughter?’

‘Does it matter how old she is?’ Michael dismissed uninterestedly. ‘I’m not asking you to sleep with her, just use some of that lethal Raphael D’Angelo charm on her,’ his brother drawled mockingly before giving Rafe a patronising pat on the back and strolling away to join their parents.

Rafe gave a disgusted huff, not at all happy at being expected to use his charm on the middle-aged daughter of a reclusive Russian billionaire.

CHAPTER ONE

Three days later. The Archangel gallery, New York.

‘WOULD YOU MIND moving? I’m afraid you’re in the way.’

Rafe straightened in the doorway of the east gallery of Archangel, where he had been standing for the past few minutes observing the installation of the glass and bronze cabinets being brought in for the displaying of the Palitov jewellery collection. He turned now to look at the young lad who had just spoken to him so abruptly.

He seemed to be in his teens, and a couple of inches under six feet tall, dressed in the same faded denims and bulky black sweatshirt as the other workers, and wearing a baseball cap pulled low over his face.

A face that was a little too pretty for a boy, Rafe realised: arched dark brows above eyes the green of fresh moss, and surrounded by long and thick dark lashes, a pert nose with a light smattering of freckles, high cheekbones above hollow cheeks, with full and lush lips above a pointed and determined chin.

Yes, he was a bit too pretty, Rafe acknowledged ruefully, although he didn’t seem to be having any trouble helping to wheel the display cases into place.

Rafe had arrived at the gallery at eight-thirty as usual, only to learn from his assistant manager that the Palitov crew had been here since eight o’clock. ‘I was just looking for—’

‘If you wouldn’t mind moving now?’ the boy repeated huskily. ‘We really need to bring in the rest of the display cabinets.’ Two of the more burly workmen had moved to stand beside and slightly behind the younger man, as if to emphasise the point.

Rafe frowned his irritation with that muscled presence; where the hell was Dmitri Palitov’s daughter?

Those green eyes widened as Rafe still made no effort to shift out of the doorway. ‘I don’t believe your employer would approve of your lack of cooperation.’

‘It so happens I’m only here because I’m looking for your employer,’ Rafe replied in frustration.

A wary expression now entered those long-lashed dark green eyes. ‘You are?’

‘I am,’ Rafe confirmed with a hard smile. ‘It was my understanding that Miss Palitov would be here herself this morning to oversee the installation of the display cabinets.’ He raised mocking and pointed brows.

The boy looked even less certain of himself now. ‘And you are?’

His mouth thinned with satisfaction. ‘Raphael D’Angelo.’

The boy winced. ‘I had a feeling you might be.’ The youth straightened. ‘Good morning, Mr D’Angelo. I’m Nina Palitov,’ she added as he made no effort to take her outstretched hand.

Nina had the satisfaction of seeing the man she now knew to be Raphael D’Angelo, one of the three brothers who owned the prestigious Archangel galleries, briefly lose some of his obviously inborn arrogance as those golden eyes widened with disbelief, the sculptured lips parting in surprise.

It gave Nina the chance to study the man standing in front of her. He was probably in his mid-thirties, or possibly a little younger, with long and silky ebony-dark hair styled rakishly to just below his shoulders, and with the face of a fallen angel. He had predatory golden eyes, sharp blades for cheekbones beneath that olive-toned skin, his nose long and aristocratic, sensuous lips that looked as if they had been lovingly chiselled by a sculptor, his jaw square—and at the moment tilted at an arrogantly challenging angle.

The perfectly tailored charcoal-grey suit and snowy white shirt did nothing to hide the muscled perfection of his taller than average frame—rather, it had no doubt been tailored to emphasise that masculinity! A suit that Nina belatedly realised had probably cost as much as a month’s rent on any number of exclusive Manhattan penthouse apartments. The white shirt was of the finest silk, as was the pale silver tie knotted so meticulously at his throat, and his black leather shoes were obviously of the finest Italian leather.

As if all of that weren’t enough of an indication of who he was, that softly modulated and educated English accent should have been the giveaway, added to which this man’s olive complexion showed he was obviously of Italian descent.

Nina’s gaze swept back up to that arrogant—and breathtakingly handsome—face. ‘I’m guessing from your expression that I’m not quite what you were expecting, Mr D’Angelo?’ she murmured ruefully.

Not what Rafe was expecting?

That had to be the understatement of the decade; it was bad enough that he had thought he was talking to a too-pretty boy, but discovering that boy was in fact a beautiful young woman, and Dmitri Palitov’s daughter, was a little hard to accept. Palitov was almost eighty years old, and the woman now claiming to be Nina Palitov could only be in her mid-twenties at the most.

Or maybe Nina was Palitov’s granddaughter, and for some reason was here in place of her mother?

Rafe forced the tension to ease from his shoulders.

‘Not what, who,’ he excused lightly, deciding to keep the ‘pretty boy’ mistake to himself as he finally briefly shook the hand she held out to him. A warm and artistically slender hand, the fingers long and delicately tapered, the nails kept short.

She looked up at him quizzically with those moss-green eyes. ‘And exactly who were you expecting, Mr D’Angelo?’

‘Your mother, probably,’ Rafe dismissed dryly. ‘Or possibly your aunt?’

She gave a rueful smile. ‘My mother is dead, and I don’t have an aunt. Or an uncle, either,’ she added dryly as Rafe would have spoken again. ‘Or any other family apart from my father,’ she said softly.

Rafe blinked, eyes narrowing as he attempted to process the information this woman had just given him. No mother, no aunts or uncles, just her father. Which meant...

‘I’m the Miss Palitov you were told to expect, Mr D’Angelo,’ she confirmed huskily. ‘I believe I’m what some people might describe as being a child born in the autumn years of my father’s life.’

And Rafe would be one of those people!

He’d had no idea that Dmitri Palitov’s daughter would be so young. Had Michael known? Probably not, otherwise his brother would never have suggested that Rafe charm her! It was unusual for his big brother not to have all the facts, but this just went to prove that not even the meticulous Michael was infallible.

And this woman’s identity probably also explained those two muscle-bound men now standing as silent and watchful sentinels at Nina Palitov’s back. No doubt Daddy Palitov kept a very close guard over his young and beautiful daughter.

As if those bodyguards, and the information that this young woman was Dmitri Palitov’s daughter, weren’t disconcerting enough, she now reached up and swept the baseball cap from her head, releasing a waterfall of fiery red curls that framed the beauty of her face and cascaded over the slenderness of her shoulders before flowing riotously down almost to her waist.

And leaving Rafe in absolutely no doubt that she was a woman.

Rafe’s preference in women had always been towards pocket-sized blondes, but as he saw the rueful amusement—at his expense—in those moss-green eyes, the slightly mocking curve to those lushly full lips, evidence, no doubt, that Nina Palitov found his discomfort amusing, he knew that he would enjoy nothing more at this moment than to take this beautiful woman in his arms before kissing that amusement from the sweet curve of those lush and pouting lips.

A move on his part that would no doubt cause those two muscle-bound sentinels to move with lightning speed in her defence.

Nina eyed Raphael D’Angelo beneath lowered lashes, knowing, by the glance he briefly gave at Rich and Andy as they stood behind her, that he had now realised helping to move display cases wasn’t their only reason for being at the Archangel gallery.

She had been surrounded by the same bodyguards for most of her life, had grown so accustomed to having at least two of them watch over her day and night that she rarely noticed they were there any more. She now treated the eight men who made up her security detail more like friends than people employed by her father to ensure her safety.

Which was a sad reflection on what her life had become, Nina realised with a frown.

Admittedly her father was a wealthy and powerful man, and Nina knew better than most that with that wealth and power came enemies. But she had often thought wistfully of how nice it would be to be able to do as other people her age did, and just pop out to collect the newspaper or a carton of milk in the mornings, or a takeaway for dinner from a fast-food restaurant, or share a fun evening out with several girlfriends, without her bodyguards having to check out the venue first.

Or maybe go out for a date with an arrogant and decadently handsome man with the face of a fallen angel.

And exactly where had that ridiculous thought come from?

The long years of her father’s protection meant that Nina was usually extremely shy when it came to talking to men; she certainly never had erotic fantasies about them the first time she met them!

She frowned up at Raphael D’Angelo, a man who could never be considered as being anything other than an arrogant and decadently handsome man with the face of a fallen angel.

‘I have a lot to do here today, Mr D’Angelo,’ she told him, hiding her shyness behind the briskness of her tone. ‘So if there was nothing else?’

Rafe knew when he was being dismissed. And he also knew when he didn’t like it!

He was in charge of the New York gallery at the moment, and it was time that Miss Nina Palitov and those muscle-bound goons standing behind her were made aware of that fact.

‘There are a few things I would like to discuss with you first, if you would care to accompany me up to my office on the third floor?’

The blinking of those long dark lashes was the only evidence that she was surprised by his request. No doubt Daddy’s money and power ensured that Miss Nina Palitov rarely, if ever, acceded to anyone’s request for her to do anything.

Her expression was wistful as she gave a predictable shake of her head, causing that long cascade of fiery red hair to shimmer like a living flame in the sunlight pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind her.

‘I obviously don’t have time at the moment. Perhaps later on this morning?’

Rafe’s mouth tightened.

‘I have several other appointments to deal with today.’ But none, he knew, that Michael, at least, wouldn’t expect him to cancel in favour of meeting with Dmitri Palitov’s daughter, whenever it was convenient for her.

But Michael wasn’t here right now, Rafe was, and—

Hell, just admit it, Rafe—the reason you’re so damned irritated is because Nina Palitov is utterly gorgeous. And under other circumstances, in a different location—the two of them naked together in a silk-sheeted bed came to mind—he might even enjoy the challenge she represented, both sexually and to his authority.

But they weren’t in a bed, that lush mouth wasn’t his for the taking, and when it came to Archangel he was the one in charge.

She shrugged dismissively. ‘In that case, I’m afraid the discussion will have to wait until tomorrow.’

Rafe took a step closer to her, only to find that the two men standing behind Nina Palitov took that same step forward, flanking her closely now as they both watched him between narrowed eyes.

‘Call off your watchdogs,’ he advised harshly.

She eyed him frowningly for several long seconds before slowly turning her head to look at the two men. ‘I’m sure Mr D’Angelo poses absolutely no threat to me,’ she assured them wryly before turning back to once again look challengingly at Rafe.

As if she believed his wealth and power also rendered him over-indulged and wimpish, a man who wouldn’t stand a chance against these two muscle-bound men if they were to take exception to something he said or did.

Admittedly, the two of them together might be pushing it a bit, but Rafe had no doubts that in a one-on-one fight his hours at the gym, and his training in several of the martial arts, would ensure he could best either one of these two men, whether they chose to fight dirty or fair—and their threatening poses indicated it would probably be the former.

He forced the tension from his shoulders as he gave a deliberately wolfish smile as his appreciative gaze swept slowly over Nina Palitov.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I posed absolutely no threat to you, Miss Palitov,’ he purred softly, his tone deliberately provocative.

Those beautiful moss-green eyes widened noticeably, a delicate blush creeping into her peaches-and-cream cheeks, and succeeding in making the endearing freckles on the bridge of her nose appear more prominent. At the same time her tongue flicked out nervously to moisten the lushness of those delectably plump lips. Lips that had no need for lip gloss to enhance their fullness or deliciously peach colour.

Those lips thinned now, as if Nina Palitov was well aware that Rafe was playing with her, and she didn’t appreciate it.

‘Would 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 jewellery collection came second only to his protection of Nina.

‘If you have any reservations or doubts, then I suggest it might be preferable if you take them up with your brother before speaking to my father,’ she added challengingly.

She had no idea what it was about Raphael, or rather Rafe, D’Angelo that made her bristle so defensively. So uncharacteristically. That arrogant confidence perhaps? Or maybe it was the fact that he was just too dangerously handsome for his own—and any woman’s—good? Whatever the reason, Nina found herself wanting to challenge him in a way she never had any other man.

Rafe had more than ‘reservations’ where Nina Palitov was concerned. Where his attraction to her was concerned.

But he certainly didn’t doubt her claim regarding the contract and the security of her father’s collection. He knew from the steadiness of that unflinching moss-green gaze that Nina Palitov was telling him nothing but the truth about the contract Michael—ergo, Archangel—had signed with her father. Something else Michael hadn’t warned him about, and which Rafe intended taking up with his big brother at his earliest convenience.

He nodded abruptly. ‘Very well, I’ll make the necessary arrangements for you to view the gallery’s full security tomorrow.’

‘Today would be more convenient.’

Rafe looked down at her through narrowed lids, easily seeing the challenge in those unblinking green eyes. ‘Very well, later today,’ he ground out tautly.

‘Good.’ She gave another terse nod. ‘I’ll see you in your office on the third floor at eleven o’clock.’ She turned away dismissively, gathering up the wild abundance of her hair and pushing it back under her baseball cap as she walked over to rejoin her workmen.

The two bodyguards shot Rafe a warning glance before following hot on Nina Palitov’s heels.

A totally unnecessary warning, as far as Rafe was concerned.

He had absolutely no interest in deepening his acquaintance with one Miss Nina Palitov. She was beautiful, yes, and those lips definitely begged to be explored in deeper, more sensuous detail, but the presence of the bodyguards said that wasn’t going to happen any time soon, and her dismissive attitude towards Rafe wasn’t in the least encouraging either.

No, Miss Nina Palitov was not a woman Rafe had any intention of pursuing on a personal basis.

CHAPTER TWO

A DECISION RAFE had serious reason to question when his assistant, Bridget, showed Nina Palitov into his office two hours later!

Rafe had been extremely busy over those two hours, having no intention of being caught wrong-footed again where this young woman was concerned.

His telephone conversation with Michael hadn’t been particularly helpful, his brother showing no interest in the fact that Nina Palitov was aged in her twenties rather than middle-aged, as Rafe had assumed she would be. Michael had simply repeated that it was Rafe’s duty to keep Miss Palitov sweet.

The Internet had proved a little more helpful regarding Nina Palitov, revealing that she had been born to Dmitri and Anna Palitov when her mother was thirty and her father in his mid-fifties, which now made Nina twenty-four. It also stated that Anna had died five years after Nina was born, but gave no cause for her premature death.

It also listed the schools Nina had attended, after which she had gone on to Stanford University, attaining a degree in art and design, before taking up a position in her father’s extensive business empire.

None of which changed the impact the flesh and blood Nina Palitov had on Rafe when she walked into his office at eleven o’clock.

Somewhere during the course of her morning’s work she had removed the bulky black sweatshirt, revealing a close-fitting white T-shirt beneath. The tightness of the material across her breasts also revealed that she wasn’t wearing anything beneath that T-shirt. Her breasts were small and pert, and tipped with darker nipples—the same peach colour as her lips?—as they pressed noticeably against that clinging white material, her abdomen silkily slender as the T-shirt finished just short of her low-rise denims.

She had dispensed with the baseball cap again, that over-abundance of fiery red hair a wild cascade onto the narrowness of her shoulders and down the slender length of her spine. A wild and fiery cascade that now made Rafe’s fingers itch to touch it.

And the rising, hardening of Rafe’s shaft told him his body had decided, completely in contradiction of his earlier decision to stay away from this young woman, that it also liked what it saw.

‘Mr D’Angelo?’ Nina prompted as he made no effort to get up and greet her but instead remained seated behind the black marble desk placed in front of the windows across the spacious room.

He had removed his jacket and put it on a hanger some time during the morning, his shoulder-length hair an ebony sheen against the white of his silk shirt. As she had suspected earlier, the broadness of his shoulders, muscled width of his chest, and the tautness of his abdomen owed absolutely nothing to the perfect tailoring of his designer label suit.

Nina deliberately looked away from all that blatant maleness to take in the rest of the spaciously elegant office. Floor-to-ceiling windows made up two of the walls of the corner office, cream silk wallpaper adorned the other two, along with several filled bookcases and a bar, with a comfortable seating area in front of the second wall of windows.

All totally in keeping with the luxurious elegance associated with the world-famous Archangel galleries and auction houses. That reputation and the expensive opulence of this gallery were no doubt the reason her father had chosen Archangel as the venue to exhibit his collection.

Even so, Nina knew that her father would not appreciate the lack of manners Raphael D’Angelo was currently exhibiting towards his only daughter.

‘Is this an inconvenient time for you, after all?’ she questioned coolly as she turned back to look across the marble desk at him.

‘Not at all,’ he drawled as he finally stood up to turn away and take his jacket from the hanger and shrug it back on over his wide shoulders before facing her fully, dark brows raised over mocking gold eyes. ‘Did you decide to dispense with the bodyguards?’

Nina steadily returned that mocking gaze. ‘They’re standing just on the other side of that door.’ She nodded towards the closed door behind her.

Raphael D’Angelo grinned as he leant back against the front of his black marble desk, arms folded across the width of that muscled chest, every inch of him crying out hot, dangerous male, beware.

‘Out of consideration for the fact that I pose absolutely no threat to you?’

Out of consideration for the fact that Nina had told Rich and Andy that that was where they were going to wait for her. They hadn’t particularly liked it, but Nina had been adamant. Alone in Raphael D’Angelo’s office, very aware of his predatory maleness, and that wicked glint once again visible in those golden eyes, she wasn’t so sure of her decision.

Rafe D’Angelo was a dangerously attractive man who even Nina knew had the reputation of being something of a rake when it came to women. An outgoing love-’em-and-leave-’em type of man, in fact, and as such he was completely out of Nina’s own limited experience with men.

Which, she knew, was the main reason for her brusqueness towards him earlier this morning; she simply had no previous experience of dealing with men as powerfully attractive as Raphael D’Angelo. With any men at all, other than her father and bodyguards, if the truth be told.

Her father had become something of a recluse after her mother died, at the same time as he had become obsessively protective of Nina. That protection, from men like Rich and Andy, meant Nina had only been out on a few dates these past few years. Always with men her father had first approved of, and who had passed the stringent security checks made on them before Nina could so much as accept an invitation from them to even go out for a pizza.

Rafe D’Angelo, charming on the outside but with a steely and determined inner core, didn’t seem like a man who would give a damn about whether he passed security checks or not, if he should decide he was interested in a woman.

Not that Nina thought that he ever would be interested in her; she very much doubted she was beautiful or sophisticated enough to arouse the interest of a man as physically attractive and sought after as she knew Rafe D’Angelo to be. A man who could have any woman he wanted, and usually did.

But Nina knew instinctively, even from her brief acquaintance with him, that Rafe D’Angelo wouldn’t give a damn about whether or not he had her father’s or anyone else’s approval, or be bothered by the fact that Rich and Andy were standing on the other side of his office door, if he should feel the inclination to kiss her—

What on earth was wrong with her?

Anyone would think that she wanted Rafe D’Angelo to find her attractive. To kiss her, even.

Which was ridiculous. She was only at the Archangel gallery in order to oversee the installation and security of her father’s jewellery collection, nothing more. The fact that she was so totally aware of everything about Rafe D’Angelo—the silkiness of his overlong dark hair, that predatory glint in those golden eyes, the hard contours of that sculptured and ruggedly handsome face, the muscled strength of his body—was irrelevant, when she had no intention of allowing her attraction to him to go any further. When her father’s protection of her wouldn’t allow that attraction to go any further.

‘I’ve made arrangements for you to go down to the basement and view our security at twelve o’clock,’ Rafe D’Angelo informed her briskly now, the expression in those golden eyes guarded. ‘I trust that time is convenient for you?’

‘Perfectly, thank you.’ Nina nodded coolly. ‘You’re also aware, once the collection is in place, that there will be two men from my father’s own security detail in the east gallery guarding the collection at all times?’

‘So I believe.’ He nodded tersely.

Her brows rose at his tone. ‘You don’t approve?’

‘It isn’t a question of whether or not I approve,’ Rafe rasped. ‘But I find it a tad insulting that your father should feel it necessary, if you really want to know,’ he added with obvious impatience.

She shrugged. ‘I doubt my father suspects that you, or any of your employees, intend to steal the collection.’

‘How reassuring!’

Nina thought they had gone as far as they could on that particular subject; there was no way her father would back off on security for his precious jewellery collection, whether Rafe D’Angelo felt insulted or otherwise. ‘So, what was it you wished to discuss with me, Mr D’Angelo?’ she prompted lightly.

‘I thought we had agreed it would be Rafe and Nina?’ he reminded dryly. ‘Mr D’Angelo makes me sound like my stern older brother.’ He grimaced.

Nina raised auburn brows. ‘That would be the Michael D’Angelo who visited my father some weeks ago?’

‘You were able to recognise him from my description, hmm?’ Rafe drawled ruefully.

Nina shrugged narrow shoulders. ‘I found him to be polite, if a little...austere.’

That golden gaze narrowed. ‘You’ve actually met my brother Michael?’

Her eyes widened at the sharpness of his tone. ‘I was present when he and my father signed the contracts for the exhibition, yes.’ She nodded.

What the hell?

Rafe had spoken to Michael just an hour ago, a conversation in which his brother hadn’t acknowledged having actually met Nina Palitov. Admittedly Rafe hadn’t actually asked him if he had, but Michael certainly hadn’t mentioned having met her, either. Not earlier, or when the two of them had spoken on the subject at Gabe’s wedding; a conversation in which Michael also hadn’t bothered to contradict Rafe when he had made the assumption that Nina Palitov was middle-aged.

‘I saw the beautiful photographs, in the Sunday newspapers, of your younger brother’s—Gabriel, is it?—wedding on Saturday. The three of you are very alike.’

Rafe had been studying the tips of his highly polished black shoes, but he now looked up at Nina Palitov, his eyes narrowing as he saw how the sun, shining in through the window behind him once again picked out those gold highlights in that glorious red hair, her eyes a soft moss-green against her creamy soft skin, and as for her lips...

Rafe cursed softly under his breath as he straightened before moving to sit back behind his desk, his already semi-hard erection having given an acknowledging throb in response to his looking appreciatively at Nina Palitov’s lushly parted lips.

A totally unacceptable reaction as far as Rafe’s intellect was concerned—he had always liked a lack of complication in those tall leggy blondes he was usually attracted to. They spent a few weeks of enjoying each other, mainly in bed, and with no expectations on either side. Nina Palitov, who she was, who her father was, made an attraction to her as complicated as hell.

Unfortunately his once again rapidly hardening manhood still seemed to have an entirely different opinion on the subject.

Rafe chose to ignore that physical reaction as he now looked across the width of his desk at Nina Palitov between narrowed lids. ‘Yes, we are,’ he bit out dismissively. ‘And it was a lovely wedding. As lovely weddings go,’ he added with a dismissive lack of interest.

Nina smiled at Rafe D’Angelo’s obvious aversion to both weddings and marriage. ‘I’m sure it isn’t catching, like the measles or chickenpox!’

He gave a hard smile. ‘I’m immune if it is!’

‘Lucky you,’ Nina came back lightly. ‘Is that all you wished to discuss with me?’

Rafe D’Angelo blinked thick dark lashes, as if he had briefly forgotten that he was the one who had asked for this meeting, that emotion quickly masked as he gave a shrug. ‘Not quite. Why don’t you sit down for a few minutes?’ he invited lightly, indicating the chair across from him, waiting until Nina was seated before continuing. ‘Your father’s security aside, I thought we should decide exactly what your role is going to be at Archangel for the period of the exhibition.’

Nina shrugged slender shoulders. ‘As I’ve already stated, you will find that was already decided in the contract signed several weeks ago by my father, and your brother.’

‘I’ve had a chance to read the contract in more detail now.’ He nodded. ‘And I really can’t believe that you want to spend all of your time here for the next two weeks.’

‘You can’t?’ Nina mused.

‘No, I can’t,’ he repeated hardly. ‘There’s nothing more to do here now that the display cases have been delivered and put in place. I congratulate you on your work, by the way,’ he seemed to add grudgingly. ‘The display 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 thought of her apartment. It was located in the same building that housed her father’s penthouse apartment, a building that he also owned, and over which he had complete control of all security. Not the complete independence Nina would wish for, but it was better than she had inwardly expected after returning from Stanford.

Rafe D’Angelo eyed her quizzically. ‘What does that mean?’

She gave a shake of her head; her father didn’t discuss their living arrangements with anyone, and consequently some of that need for secrecy had rubbed off on her. ‘It means I will be at my father’s apartment for dinner tomorrow evening.’

‘But you aren’t about to tell me where you live?’ Rafe D’Angelo guessed ruefully.

‘No.’

‘Not even if I were to offer to call for you and drive you to your father’s apartment?’

‘No,’ she refused huskily. ‘And I know my father intends to send one of his cars to collect you. He wanted me to confirm that your apartment is still on Fifth Avenue?’

Rafe felt a stirring of unease; Dmitri Palitov seemed to know far too much about him for comfort—far more than Rafe knew about the other man or his beautiful daughter.

‘It is,’ he confirmed slowly. ‘Thank him for me, but I would prefer to drive myself.’ Having his own transport meant that Rafe could leave when he’d had enough. He also bridled at the thought of being organised by the arrogant Dmitri Palitov!

Nina Palitov frowned at his refusal. ‘I know my father would prefer to have one of his cars collect you.’

‘And I would prefer to drive myself,’ Rafe repeated unrelentingly.

‘I very much doubt you know where he lives.’

‘I doubt many people do,’ he came back knowingly.

‘No.’

He nodded briskly. ‘Perhaps you would like to leave the address with my secretary some time tomorrow? After you’ve spoken to your father again, of course.’

She chewed on her bottom lip, instantly drawing Rafe’s attention to those pouting, slightly reddened lips, and in turn to those captivating moss-green eyes. He realised his mistake as he felt as if he were drowning in those smoky-green depths.

Just as he was aware the rest of him was being pulled, as if by a magnet, towards her, as his head slowly lowered—

‘I should go and check security now,’ Nina rasped abruptly even as she stepped back and away from him. ‘I’ll pass your message on to my father.’

‘Fine.’ Rafe straightened abruptly, inwardly cursing the obviously increasing attraction he felt towards Nina Palitov, and sincerely hoping his date this evening with Jennifer would put that attraction out of his mind—and appease his aching body! ‘Do you want me to come down with you to view security in the basement?’

Nina gave a rueful smile at the obvious lack of enthusiasm in his voice. ‘I believe that I can find my own way, thank you.’

Rafe eyed her irritably. ‘I was being polite.’

‘I noticed,’ she drawled.

Rafe nodded abruptly before striding across to open the office door for her, a little disconcerted at instantly finding himself the focus of two pairs of wraparound sunglasses, the two bodyguards—Rich and Andy?— standing directly outside the door. ‘I assure you, Miss Palitov has come to no harm while in my office,’ he drawled mockingly.

There wasn’t so much as an answering smile in either of those two grimly set faces, neither man sparing Rafe a second glance as Nina stepped out into the hallway. ‘Good day to you, Mr D’Angelo,’ she murmured before walking off towards the lift, the two men falling into step behind her.

Which in no way hindered Rafe of the view of Nina Palitov’s heart-shaped backside in those tight-fitting denims. A view his once-again throbbing body enjoyed to the full.

He was in trouble—serious trouble!—Rafe acknowledged with a low groan, if just looking at the perfect curve of Nina’s bottom in a pair of tight-fitting denims could succeed in making his shaft swell and ache!

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?

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