Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

R aphaella

Now fear skittered through my veins, every muscle tense. Was the man going to fire me? I wasn't sure I'd blame him. I wasn't worried about my safety or concerned some boogeyman would come out of the shadows with a big, sharp knife.

That kind of angst would be welcome at this point, something I could handle. I'd been trained to do so.

No, my terror was based on self-doubt and the knowledge the man I'd be working for was considered one of the most ruthless men in the entire city of New York. He was known as heartless and cruel, losing maybe .0008 percent of the cases he'd been assigned in his life. He could eat me with a spoon as if I meant nothing. While people respected him given his cunning abilities, his charm well known across the entire state and likely up and down the East Coast, his barbaric behavior had also put the fear of God into every colleague, every single judge in the city.

And he'd spanked me.

He'd caught me in his office before hours and treated me like some… wayward child.

I was still humiliated as well as angry with myself that I'd allowed fear to replace indignation.

I'd hidden in the small kitchen then the bathroom, debating leaving altogether. I was thankful my rational side had won out and I was determined to wow the man with my skills.

I tried to harness my anger, ignoring the pain every time I took a step. The man was a literal pain in the ass, worse than everything I'd read.

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.

"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 to Shanna, 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, the papers 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 girl lightheaded. 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.

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.