A Prize Beyond Jewels

‘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?