Page 9 of The Councilor

I’d done my research. I knew what I was getting into. I’d done everything in my power to obtain this position, including embellishing my resume just a teensy bit. However, if I wooed the man, which I doubted had been done before, my future was golden. For now, I was reduced to a babbling idiot who could barely put one foot in front of the other.

As I headed just outside the large administrative pool, I could feel dozens of pairs of eyes on me. I guess I was the new fresh meat. Fuck them. I wasn’t here to make friends.

“And here we are,” a voice from beside me said just before she rapped on a closed door. It felt as if the moment and the room I was about to enter were about to swallow me like quicksand.

I was going to be sick.

Or I would rake my nails down his face.

There was no doubt I was about to make a bigger fool of myself than I’d likely already done.

“I’m sorry?” I asked, although no one who knew me could recognize my voice. I sounded like a squeaky mouse. That wasn’t like me and never had been. Jesus. My heart was in my throat. This was ridiculous.

The woman laughed. “Don’t be so nervous. Mr. Semenov doesn’t bite. Unless you’re on the opposing team, that is.” She knocked as I studied her. Shanna Booker was from human resources, requiring me to be very conscientious about what I’d said about myself on the thirty or so forms.

I had about a half dozen reasons to be extremely careful about personal information. That was in addition to not admitting to anyone what had happened this morning. Nope. I wouldn’t do it. I held my head high, planting the sweetest smile on my face.

“Come.” The deep male voice didn’t match his reputation, what his opponents called illegal behavior. In my mind, they were just jealous of his winning technique. And perhaps his stunning good looks. Jealousy was a vile thing.

Shanna opened the door, doing her best to usher me inside the man’s office. Meanwhile, my feet didn’t seem to want to move, my legs shaking. I’d been around ruthless men my entire life, but this was different. This was me, former princess and basic possession of a merciless regime determined to take back and keep her life.

Somehow, I found myself inside.

The man was standing behind his desk staring at whatever file was in his hand.

“Mr. Semenov, I have your new assistant.”

‘Assistant’ was a little overblown. I was more like an intern given the wage scale. Yes, I knew it had been done on purpose because the brutal man had been through something like six paralegals in the last year. Six. That was a clear indication of what I was in store for. But I was a tenacious girl, unable to be run off so easily. I’d learned from the best to hold my own.

Even though at this moment I wanted to vomit a little bit in my mouth.

Thankfully, my anger and basic hatred for the man reared its fang-tipped head. I could do this. No, I would do this.

When the man turned around, all sound ceased, the air in the room sucked right out. It pissed me off that even after the experience from before, the man’s extreme good looks managed to unnerve me.

I’d seen pictures. I’d seen videos. I’d known the man was gorgeous by anyone’s standards, but this man, this gorgeous hunk of male representation was beyond the stratosphere handsome. Videos and photographs hadn’t done him justice, including his formidable height. He had to be at least six foot five, which nearly dwarfed my five-foot six-inch frame. Even in my conservative heels, I’d been forced to tilt my head to look into his eyes.

If I had the courage to do that all over again.

Oh, yes, I would. I would never back down from the man, his stupid requests or his arrogance.

Unless he was stupid enough to bark at me to get him coffee. Then all bets were off and the lioness inside would rear her ugly head.

At least I got the satisfaction of the shock shadowing his handsome face. For a few precious seconds, he was flustered.

I kept the smile as Shanna glanced from one to the other. “Have you two met already?”

“I’ve never seen this man before in my life,” I answered first.

Aleksander managed to regroup, the smug look returning.

My trepidation really wasn’t just about concern I wasn’t good enough. It was that I, Raphaella Bernardi, daughter of a savage man, was determined to be just like him.

Ruthless.

Unforgiving.

Unrelenting.

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