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