Which was how Rafe came to find himself telling Nina more about the work he did, and about coming up with new ideas for Archangel. He told her some anecdotes from his childhood, growing up in a family of three boys.
‘Your poor mother!’ Nina laughed softly after Rafe had related one of those stories of his childhood, involving himself and Gabriel placing a frog in their grandmother’s bed when she came to stay during the summer when he was eleven. ‘Michael wasn’t involved too?’ she prompted curiously as she took a sip of the coffee that had been served to signal the end of their meal.
Rafe gave a shake of his head. ‘Even at twelve Michael was the serious one, the responsible one.’
Nina remembered that aloof seriousness from that one occasion she had met Michael D’Angelo. ‘Maybe he didn’t feel he had a choice, with two mischievous younger brothers?’
Rafe frowned as he seemed to give the suggestion some thought, now wondering if perhaps his older brother chose to live behind a public mask too.
‘I’ve never thought of it quite like that before, but you could be right,’ Rafe conceded slowly. ‘And talking of Michael, I spoke to him this afternoon, too.’
Her brows rose. ‘He’s back in New York?’
Rafe shook his head. ‘Still in Paris. We spoke on a conference call.’
Nina’s brows rose. ‘You have been busy today!’
He frowned. ‘Didn’t the things I’ve just told you show that I’m busy every day?’
Yes, they had, Nina acknowledged with an inner glow, not sure why Rafe had chosen to answer her questions so candidly, but pleased that he had, now knowing there was so much more to this man, a depth that others wouldn’t know was there.
She eyed him teasingly. ‘I believe it’s the newspapers who prefer to report on your night-time activities rather than the daytime ones!’
‘They take delight in reporting what they think are my night-time activities,’ Rafe corrected dryly.
‘All those photographs of you out with beautiful women are just a figment of the press’s imagination?’ she prompted.
Unfortunately, Rafe knew they weren’t. And worst of all, of course, was the one of him with Jennifer Nichols two nights ago, when he had refused to cancel his prior arrangements to have dinner with Nina and her father.
‘My main reason for talking to Michael...’ Rafe abruptly changed the subject ‘...was because I wanted to see what he thought about my suggestion of asking you to design new display cabinets for all three of the galleries.’
‘Me?’ She was obviously stunned by the suggestion.
‘Why not?’ He frowned at Nina’s reaction. ‘The display cabinets you designed for your father are elegantly beautiful in their simplicity. The same elegance and simplicity that we aim for at Archangel.’
‘Well. Yes. I’ve noticed that these past few days. But...’ She was obviously flustered. ‘I already have a job.’
‘Working for your father.’
Nina could hear the disapproval in Rafe’s tone. Perhaps deserved, after all those years she had spent attaining her design degree from Stanford.
But Rafe didn’t understand. No one did. Because most people, Rafe included, had no idea what had happened to them nineteen years ago. Nina was well aware that her father had used the Palitov wealth and power to make certain not all the events of that time were ever made public.
‘Don’t you have any hopes and dreams of your own, Nina?’ Rafe pressed determinedly, refusing to back down on the subject. ‘An ambition to do something more with your life than stand in your father’s shadow?’
She gasped, her face visibly paling at this attack coming so quickly after Rafe had talked to her so candidly. Or perhaps that was the reason for the attack? She very much doubted that Rafe spoke that candidly about himself to many people. ‘That was uncalled for,’ she murmured softly.
‘But true?’
‘Thank you for a lovely dinner, Rafe, but I think perhaps it’s time I left.’ Nina turned away, the bareness of her shoulders defensively stiff as she slowly laid her napkin down on the table beside her empty coffee cup, sure now that Rafe was being deliberately challenging. Because he had so completely let his guard down with her?
Rafe’s mouth had thinned. ‘I’m driving you home.’
‘Lawrence and Paul will take me home.’
Rafe gave a slow, determined shake of his head. ‘I drove you here. I’m driving you home.’
‘Why?’ Her eyes glittered deeply green. ‘So that you can insult me some more? Because I asked too many questions? Or because you answered them?’ she added astutely as she stood up, black clutch bag in her hand.