Page 10 of The Councilor

“Oh, okay then,” she continued. “This is?—”

“Now, Shanna. You know we do try and go by first names only around this joint.” For about a million reasons, his return comment just didn’t fit. I’d thought he’d bark from the very first second, maybe something about interrupting his busy day.

I was certain he was just using his signature venomous charm, but I had to admit his smile seemed genuine. That meant he was a damn good actor, which was needed when defending the criminals on his roster.

I was on a roll.

“Forgive me, Aleksander. This is Raphaella.”

Aleksander moved around his desk, heading in my direction. While more casual behavior was acceptable, at least according toShanna, conservative attire appeared to be a must. Thank God, I’d made a decent choice in what I’d wear. A dark suit, a simple white purse, and what my mother would call church shoes. Definitely not sexy. I wasn’t this girl, but I’d told myself this was the best way to fit in without being noticed.

Hair in a tight bun, cutesy little hazel-framed glasses, and minimalistic makeup. What I’d purchased hadn’t cost me an arm and a leg, preferring to dig through bin after bin at the most delightful outlet stores in all of New York. His suit was Italian, cut to fit his muscular yet trim body like a glove. It cost at least ten grand, a far cry from the sixty bucks I was wearing.

The power red tie meant he’d been in his killer mode today, something else I admired about him. As he walked closer, I realized my grip on the papers I’d brought with me was so firm my fingers hurt. I’d been provided with a cubicle, a little place I could put my potted plant and a couple of photographs. That’s all that would fit other than the computer and in/out box. But I didn’t care. I should have left the paperwork there but needed a lifeline, which was so odd for my bold personality.

I’d worked my ass off to get where I was. I was going to calm the fuck down and dazzle the man with my brilliance. That’s one reason I found the courage to throw out my hand for a firm, more than two-second handshake. You could tell a lot about a person by the way they greeted you.

Look into the person’s eyes.

Shoulders back.

The kind of handshake that meant business.

I tried to follow my personal mantra but failed miserably, sticking out the hand filled with papers. My luck sucked, thepapers fluttering down his long, muscular legs to the floor. I followed them with my eyes, the entire moment in slow motion. The moment I crouched down to grab them, which would allow the wash of embarrassment to hopefully leave, he did the same. I was midway down when his action surprised me and I tumbled forward.

Smack into his huge arms.

Now I was forced to test my theory, required to lift my head by a few inches to be able to stare into his eyes. They were green, like the rich color of moss just after a beautiful spring rainstorm. The hue accented his whiskey-colored hair, the waves drawing my attention almost as quickly as his heated yet amused gaze.

“Are you alright?” he asked, the roughness to his voice sending electric vibrations through every centimeter of my veins.

“Um. Yes. Sure. Maybe.” I was ready to kick myself for being so stupid.

We both laughed, but only for a few seconds.

I was completely overheated, my face likely a bright shade of crimson.

“Relax, Raphaella. I only bark or bite those who deserve my wrath. You do not.”

A slight smile crossed my face, which shocked the hell out of me. “I’m sorry. I’m really not usually this clumsy.”Especially around jerkoff assholes.

Thankfully, I didn’t say it.

Being so close to the man, allowed to take deep breaths of his very masculine aftershave was enough to keep any girllightheaded. His kind demeanor was far too off-putting. I guess I’d been expecting a cougar.

His laugh was just as powerful as the man’s typical actions. “Why don’t you take a seat so we can talk for a little while?”

That was the embarrassing moment when I realized I’d placed a hand on his chest. It was all I could do to pry it off with my will. What the hell was wrong with me? Okay, so he was the kind of man fantasies were made of, but men were a dime a dozen, usually assholes pretending to be something they weren’t.

Or worse, men with no conscience.

I sensed Shanna was laughing from behind, which I couldn’t blame her for. “I need to get the papers.” What a stupid thing to say.

He shifted his look to a stern one, even guiding me to one of his two gorgeously posh-looking visitor’s chairs. Everything about his office, including two walls with nothing but huge windows, screamed wealth.

I managed to sit down without making a bigger fool of myself, straightening my skirt before doing so.

“Is Raphaella settled in her new home?” he asked Shanna. I dared glance over my shoulder and he’d returned to a crouched position, scooping up the fallen papers.

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