her personal reader, so she didn’t have to ask him through the door for the code. She tapped out the sequence and heard the tumblers drop heavily. It was a reassuring sound.
Kieren nodded as she opened the door. “Sorry to wake you, Ms. Rinaldi. He was insistent.”
“That’s alright. I’m getting used to vampires being up at any hour. Where is he?”
Kieren stepped back. “A second identification, if you don’t mind?” He looked to his left. “If you’ll step toward the door, sir?”
“I assure you, I’m quite harmless.” Her father’s rich, educated tenor filled the hallway. Then Christopher Rinaldi himself stepped into view and turned to face her. “Good evening, Deonne. Please tell this man I’m who I say I am so we can get this silly nonsense over with?”
Deonne’s gut tightened. It was just like her father to insist he be treated differently from everyone else. He’d always sought for recognition, preferably adulation. Being handled like a stranger and a mild threat, too, would offend his finely tuned instincts regarding rank and privilege.
So she raised a brow. “You barged in here at the crack of dawn. What did you expect? A champagne cocktail welcome?”
“In Sweden? Do they even have a decent champagne here?” He looked at Kieren. “May I enter? I would like to kiss my daughter hello and warm up the welcome I’ve received so far.”
“Father,” Deonne snapped. “Kieren is doing his job and you’re not making it any easier with snide comments like that.”
Christopher smiled dryly at Kieren. “My apologies. It has been a long night so far.”
Kieran’s blue eyes were expressionless, but his square jaw was very stiff as he gave a short nod. He looked at Deonne. “Should I wait here,” he asked, “or the foyer?”
Deonne kept her own expression just as neutral as Kieran’s, but she wanted to hug him. He had read enough into her short conversation with her father, that he was offering to hover in the corridor and escort her father off the premises in short order…if she wanted him to.
“I should be fine, thank you, Kieren,” she told him. “Please make yourself comfortable for whatever is left of the night.”
Kieran’s hand dropped down to his hip, where the high powered all-way communications bud was clipped. “You know how to reach me if you need me.”
“Thank you, yes. Good night, Kieren.”
“Night, ma’am.” He gave a deeper nod to her. “I’ll wait until the door is locked once more.” He stood back to let her father in.
Christopher stepped into the apartment and Deonne shut the door and locked it. Then she took a deep breath and turned to face him.
He was examining the apartment, wandering around the main room and studying the furniture and fixtures, much as she had done a few hours before. But she had not picked things up and put them back with a little moue of disapproval, nor had she worn the slightly disparaging air.
“The Scandinavian thing is somewhat passé as a form of décor, isn’t it?” he asked, turning to face her.
“Not in Scandinavia.” She crossed her arms. “You didn’t hop a semi-ballistic just to critique my accommodations, father.”
He gave a last look out the windows and swiveled to face her, one hand on his hip under the heavy overcoat he wore. There would still be snow coverage in the Alps, of course. “You haven’t communicated with the family in over three years, Deonne. You very nearly disappeared except for rumors here and there of your doings. After years of silence, you find it odd that I would want to visit my daughter when I finally get a solid lead on her location?”
“Yes, I do,” she shot back. “Today isn’t the first time I’ve been on the nets. You could have dropped everything and dashed to see me at any time over the last three years. Why now, all of a sudden?”
“You’ve been mysteriously absent from the nets for a while.” He lifted a brow at her reaction. “Ah, you thought I
Kieren nodded as she opened the door. “Sorry to wake you, Ms. Rinaldi. He was insistent.”
“That’s alright. I’m getting used to vampires being up at any hour. Where is he?”
Kieren stepped back. “A second identification, if you don’t mind?” He looked to his left. “If you’ll step toward the door, sir?”
“I assure you, I’m quite harmless.” Her father’s rich, educated tenor filled the hallway. Then Christopher Rinaldi himself stepped into view and turned to face her. “Good evening, Deonne. Please tell this man I’m who I say I am so we can get this silly nonsense over with?”
Deonne’s gut tightened. It was just like her father to insist he be treated differently from everyone else. He’d always sought for recognition, preferably adulation. Being handled like a stranger and a mild threat, too, would offend his finely tuned instincts regarding rank and privilege.
So she raised a brow. “You barged in here at the crack of dawn. What did you expect? A champagne cocktail welcome?”
“In Sweden? Do they even have a decent champagne here?” He looked at Kieren. “May I enter? I would like to kiss my daughter hello and warm up the welcome I’ve received so far.”
“Father,” Deonne snapped. “Kieren is doing his job and you’re not making it any easier with snide comments like that.”
Christopher smiled dryly at Kieren. “My apologies. It has been a long night so far.”
Kieran’s blue eyes were expressionless, but his square jaw was very stiff as he gave a short nod. He looked at Deonne. “Should I wait here,” he asked, “or the foyer?”
Deonne kept her own expression just as neutral as Kieran’s, but she wanted to hug him. He had read enough into her short conversation with her father, that he was offering to hover in the corridor and escort her father off the premises in short order…if she wanted him to.
“I should be fine, thank you, Kieren,” she told him. “Please make yourself comfortable for whatever is left of the night.”
Kieran’s hand dropped down to his hip, where the high powered all-way communications bud was clipped. “You know how to reach me if you need me.”
“Thank you, yes. Good night, Kieren.”
“Night, ma’am.” He gave a deeper nod to her. “I’ll wait until the door is locked once more.” He stood back to let her father in.
Christopher stepped into the apartment and Deonne shut the door and locked it. Then she took a deep breath and turned to face him.
He was examining the apartment, wandering around the main room and studying the furniture and fixtures, much as she had done a few hours before. But she had not picked things up and put them back with a little moue of disapproval, nor had she worn the slightly disparaging air.
“The Scandinavian thing is somewhat passé as a form of décor, isn’t it?” he asked, turning to face her.
“Not in Scandinavia.” She crossed her arms. “You didn’t hop a semi-ballistic just to critique my accommodations, father.”
He gave a last look out the windows and swiveled to face her, one hand on his hip under the heavy overcoat he wore. There would still be snow coverage in the Alps, of course. “You haven’t communicated with the family in over three years, Deonne. You very nearly disappeared except for rumors here and there of your doings. After years of silence, you find it odd that I would want to visit my daughter when I finally get a solid lead on her location?”
“Yes, I do,” she shot back. “Today isn’t the first time I’ve been on the nets. You could have dropped everything and dashed to see me at any time over the last three years. Why now, all of a sudden?”
“You’ve been mysteriously absent from the nets for a while.” He lifted a brow at her reaction. “Ah, you thought I
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