Page 16 of The Councilor

Hopefully, I’d get over the nasty event. At least I’d told him I didn’t want to talk about it. Putting my foot down was the best thing to do. One thing I couldn’t do was mention it to the girls. They’d call me crazy, encouraging me to file a complaint. I doubted it would matter if I did. No one dared cross the man.

As soon as I walked in, Jackie bounded in my direction. Of my two roommates, she was the most dramatic, partially because acting ran in her blood. And because she was doing everything in her power to succeed on Broadway.

“How was it? You’re late. Did something happen?”

Angie wasn’t far behind, an already open bottle of wine and three glasses in her hand.

“Aww. What did you guys do?” I asked as I glanced from one to the other.

“We just knew how nervous you were. So, we have takeout Chinese coming and Jackie, the babe, was good enough to stop and purchase a carton of our favorite ice cream.”

“Wow, you ladies went all out.”

“Come on. Spill the beans. You have to tell us everything,” Jackie insisted.

“Have you noticed how much she looks like a top executive?” Angie teased.

Which prompted Jackie to touch me with her index finger. “The look works but you appear stodgy as well.”

“I work in a conversative field,” I chided.

“Does it need to be boring?” Angie pushed. “You look not like yourself.”

I had to concede. Boring blue wasn’t my favorite. When I heard a knock on the door, I grinned. There was nothing better than Chinese food from our favorite takeout place. It was our one real luxury this past year.

With Angie waiting tables to try to make her way through Columbia and Jackie making peanuts in her roles, we were lucky to share a box of mac-n-cheese. At least my father had insisted one of his flunkies bring a box of food every couple of weeks, something I’d hated at first but the three of us had grown grateful for.

My father didn’t approve of me being on my own, but he’d relented since I was his princess, as he’d called me since I was a child. It was a term I’d once adored but now hated. When he used the phrase, it was now more often than not used in a derogatory manner. I could swear the man believed I couldn’t handle my life on my own.

“Tell you what. Let me change clothes.” I scurried away, finding it more and more difficult to keep my mind out of the gutter. I flung off the suit, loathing how constricting it was. It was a far cry from my usual attire of jeans and a shirt of some kind.

I kicked my shoes into the closet, almost ripping my blouse in my hurry to get it off. I grabbed my favorite Bon Jovi tee shirt and my comfiest pair of well-worn jeans. After plopping on my tennis shoes, I yanked the pin from my hair, tossing it onto the dresser. Only then did I realize I still had my glasses on. Another maybe silly attempt at disguising my real identity. I’d been a little surprised Aleksander hadn’t mentioned my family background, but maybe he really didn’t care about last names.

He certainly did inside a courtroom.

I moved into the hallway, grateful that through my dad’s connections we’d managed to secure the place. The former warehouse had been converted into various-sized apartments and condos. With the open floor plan and very tall industrial-style windows, the light added a beautiful ambiance our eclecticdesign couldn’t. I moved to my studio, marveling in the fact I’d enjoyed hours of creating, most items only half finished.

My dreams had been somewhere else, imagining a sensational career creating works of art. It had definitely been against my father’s wishes, his requirements to either join the family business or work within the system of law enforcement. Which meant he wanted to be able to control that aspect of my life in its entirety.

After one of my father’s men, who I’d had a crush on, had been railroaded by what Daddy had called a corrupt prosecutor, I’d parlayed all my attention into becoming a paralegal. But that hadn’t been enough. One day, I could see myself as a practicing attorney. Still, I missed my art. Just talking about it with Aleks had stabbed something very sharp into my heart.

As I headed back into the living room, the aroma of Kung Pao chicken made my mouth water. Who needed a man when you could have the world’s finest Chinese food? The girls had already gotten plates, all three wineglasses filled. Music blared in the background. While our furnishings might leave a little to be desired, I felt more comfortable here than I had in my own house growing up.

The girls knew who I was. They couldn’t care less. Of course they had no clue how dangerous my father was. In my mind, I was grateful they’d chosen to ignore the real Raphaella Bernardi.

“Okay, what’s your boss like?” Jackie pressed before handing me a glass of wine. She even teased me, acting as if she wasn’t going to hand me the cheap crystal stem.

I gave her a hard look in return, close to ripping it from her hand. “Mr. Semenov is a hottie.” I was shocked at my easy admittance.

“Ooh-la-la. Isn’t he a real bigwig in this town?” Angie asked, already helping herself to chicken fried rice. They’d taken my new job seriously, purchasing way too much food on their nickel. But I was eternally grateful for it right now. I’d bagged it with an apple and a peanut butter sandwich. It had been a long time since I could indulge in lunches out.

“He’s very good at what he does.” There. At least I was being a bit more conscientious in what I was telling them.

“Bor-ring. Spill the real beans.”

I turned my glare back to Jackie, trying not to laugh. “Okay, he’s more handsome than his pictures show. He’s very intelligent and sophisticated and actually, shockingly, a nice guy.”

Jackie coughed. “You sound as if the man is just another guy. He’s like the city’s most eligible bachelor.”

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