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“I know you were the one who designed those rings, Raina. And they are lovely. You have every right to be proud. Mr. Donatelli, on the other hand…” He mutters a word I’m pretty sure is a Russian curse, and I rush to explain.
“It’s not like that! It…it’s to protect me, really.”
“Protect you?” Alek seems to pounce on that word, and I squirm. I’ve never told this story, to anyone. Should I keep my secrets from him as well?
Even as I waffle, though, I know there’s no use. Alek strides over to one of the chairs situated to enjoy both the fire and the view, and sits down. He pointedly gestures to the other chair, and I stare at it for a second, then move over to join him. I perch on the edge of the cushion, biting my lip.
“Protect you how, Raina?” Alek prompts.
“I shouldn’t be—”
“Protect you how, Raina?” he repeats, his words stronger, edgier. I nod in understanding. Now that I’ve broached the subject, I can’t take it back.
“Well…” I look down at my hands folded over my terrycloth robe, and sigh. “I’m not technically supposed to be working in a jewelers’ shop. My parents forbade it, and I still rely on them for a small stipend. I could go out and get an education—a job, but all I’ve ever wanted to do was make jewelry. I was fascinated whenever we went to a jewelry store when I was kid, and Mr. Donatelli—the original one, not his son—was so kind. He offered to teach me how to work with stones. My parents thought it was a fun past-time, but when I turned eighteen and wanted to work as a true designer—taking specialized classes, the whole thing—they said no. Absolutely not. So, I did it in secret. I still do it in secret. Everyone believes that old Mr. Donatelli and now his son are keeping me on as an assistant because they’re being kind, but that’s not the truth. If my parents found out—I’d be completely cut off. No high-end jeweler would touch me, and I’d be forced to work retail, with inferior stones, for bargain basement shops.”
“That will never happen,” Alek says, his words absolute. I manage a wry smile.
“If I were stronger, I know I could probably work my way back into the business, but…I’m not. I love what I’m doing, and I’m good at it! I think it would break me not to be able to do what I do every day. I…” I shake my head. “I don’t need the credit, in the end. I just need to be able to create.”
“Like you did the bridal set for Natasha.”
I smile. Such beautiful jewels… “Yes.”
Alek sits back, studying me. “So, tell me how this works, exactly. You design your art, you seal them in boxes, you bring them to the bride? No one ever touches them but you?”
“Well, Mr. Donatelli does, of course. He sees the final product and makes sure he likes the packaging.” I chuckle. “It’s his fault I almost ran over you yesterday.”
“Oh?” He narrows that intense emerald gaze. “How so?”
I tell him the brief story—Mr. Donatelli’s insistence on getting the boxes exactly right, the unbearable delay, the race across town—and by the end, Alek is nodding with something more than understanding. In fact, a look of fierce satisfaction now crosses his face.
When he speaks, though, his voice is bland, almost nonchalant. “I can see you both are committed to detail.”
“Yes—which is why I really should give him a call—”
But Alek raises a hand, cutting me off. “You absolutely should. But first, there’s something I’d like you to see. Something…personal and important to me, much as you are.” He stands and offers his hand. “Come, Raina. Let me share with you something I’ve never shared with another.”
