Page 11 of The Councilor

Home.

I guess this would be my home away from home, a place where I could learn and thrive. My ticket to freedom. In an estrogen gene pool of a gaggle of women.

With my bundle of nerves continuing, I reminded myself of that several times. Finally, it seemed I could breathe easier.

“Yes, sir. She’s right outside your door,” Shanna answered.

Which made me think I could be at the man’s beck and call. At least my more wicked thoughts allowed me a slight smile.

“Excellent. I’ll take it from here,” Aleksander continued.

I cringed when I heard her footsteps but finally managed to rally, sitting up straight. When he returned to his desk, the papers were gone, soon to be safely tucked away in a file cabinet somewhere.

He slowly eased behind his desk, giving me a hard onceover, finally sizing me up as I knew he did with everyone. “Are you glad to be here, Raphaella?”

“Absolutely, sir.” The disdain in my tone was dripping, the smile remaining. At least I sensed I was making him very uncomfortable.

“When you call me sir, I feel old. Aleks or Aleksander will do. While our workload is somewhat daunting and formal, I do try and allow for a fun atmosphere.” He was choosing to ignore the previous situation, which was dandy by me.

In another blunder that could come back to haunt me, I laughed. And I wasn’t the least bit sorry about it either.

He opened his eyes wide, more amused than before. When he grinned, the corners of his upper lip curling, I sat back in my chair, doing my best to ‘hold court.’ One of the few decent things my father had taught me. This was obviously a game to him. Like a love-hate relationship.

Only there was about a snowball’s chance in hell I would consider a date with this man.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve heard about the firm, Raphaella? I have to admit I’m more than curious.”

Maybe it was nervous energy or simply being given the opportunity to open my mouth, which might otherwise be against the rules, but I did so easily. More than when I’d tried to get dressed that morning.

“You’re known as a heartless man who has no time or forgiveness for anyone. While most of your clients are wealthy beyond typical means, respected by hundreds if not thousands of people in their industry, secretly they are feared by others, most terrified they’ll end up being destroyed or worse. That’s very much like the way people feel about you. Hate. Respect. Admiration. Women adore you. Men loathe you for everything you are and represent.”

He sucked in his breath and I was certain he was going to kick me out on my ass. This time, his eyes sparked as he leaned back in his chair. “And you find that an acceptable pattern of bad behavior?”

“Not necessarily, but I learned a long time ago that in business as well as in pleasure, those who demand what they want are the only ones who achieve their goals. And I plan on being one of those people. The only way to achieve my goals is by learning from the best.”

I couldn’t have been more shocked at my nerve. But hell, after highlighting my clumsiness, which wouldn’t bode well in a courtroom, why not highlight my other, more mischievous side?

He seemed to be debating whether he would say anything to me other than ‘get out.’ When his smile widened, he offered a nod of respect. The gesture I also knew well. How many times had I seen that very action from men who worked for my father?

“I think, Raphaella, that you and I are going to get along very well. There will be some bumps in the road, but we’ll work through them.”

Bumps in the road? Was he kidding me? I offered a look that said I was laughing at him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“We will be working closely together including some long hours. I hope that was represented to you accurately.”

“Yes…Aleksander. It was. I enjoy a challenge.”

“Excellent. Now, the best way to break the ice so our relationship can be cemented is not by having me grill you across a fancy desk. Instead, we’re going out for a drink. It is five o’clock somewhere.”

The man was more than an arrogant nutcase. He was a chauvinistic pig.

If he wanted to play games, then fine.

I was damn good at them.

CHAPTER 4

Aleksander

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