‘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—