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Valentina could see his bulging biceps and large, tanned hand as he held the door for her. The veins in his muscular forearms flexed visibly. His brilliant white teeth dazzled next to his bronzed visage, and nebulous green eyes taunted her.
“I’ll wait for the next one,” she trilled apprehensively.
“I’ll wait for you,” he replied, making no move to close the door. His voice was deep baritone and husky.
“I need to go to the washroom.”
“You need to get on this elevator,” he commanded. “Now.”
Something triggered deep inside Valentina, and even though she’d long fantasized about rebelling against him at the first possible opportunity, she conceded once again, almost hypnotically.
The woodsy scent of him filled her nostrils when she crossed the threshold into the confined space. Although the compartment was spacious enough for six or eight people, it felt stifling, and Daniels made no civilized attempt to step aside for her. He stood directly behind Valentina, only a few inches away. She kept her back to him stubbornly.
“Going up?” he asked. The back of her neck tickled.
Valentina ignored him.
“I prefer going down,” he said, just under his breath. His voice was unusually hoarse.
Valentina could not believe her ears. They’d just spent an hour this morning going over the State of Illinois sexual harassment laws. Ire bristled up her spine.
Grinding her teeth, she leaned over pointedly and reached for button 65. Daniels’s hand was faster and their fingers brushed; quicksilver coursed through her veins from the point of contact. Why had her body done that? And how did he know where she was going anyway?
The sixty-five-story climb in the archaic elevator was agony. Ethan’s protruding pectorals were no more than six inches away from her back, despite the fact that he could have stood anywhere else in the elevator. Valentina could feel the warmth of his body and the intimate sensation of his breath on her neck. Surprisingly, it was not unpleasant.
She had to admit, if only to herself, that it was kind of hot.
Tension crackled almost audibly in the air. Ding. The elevator bell marked her arrival, jeering at her plight.
“See you in twenty minutes,” he said. Without reply, she lunged out of the elevator at Mach speed.
What, did he think he was so attractive she would be chasing after him the second she could get away from Simson? Did he think he was God’s gift or what?
Pompous asshole.
“Invitation not accepted,” she quipped.
“It wasn’t an invitation,” he said brusquely. “It was an order.”
* * *
“From now on, you will be working directly under Ethan Daniels,” Mr. Simson said. “We have high expectations for you, Ms. Sanderson, and we would like him to take you under his wing.”
Valentina’s heart sank, even though her employer had just given her a huge compliment. She was going to have to abandon her dream job before she even began; she would turn in her resignation letter first thing in the morning. There were hundreds of other architecture firms in Chicago; she refused to waste one moment working under the SOB, Ethan Daniels.
“Please report to him immediately. His office is the penthouse on the top floor.”
Out in the vestibule, Valentina didn’t know why she chose the ‘up’ button rather than the ‘down’ one. Yet for some reason, she found herself back in the elevator, headed to Ethan’s swanky office on the top story of the skyscraper. The irony did not elude her that it was the sixty-ninth floor.
Valentina breezed into Daniels’s office.
“Just in time.” He looked at his watch, cocking a sardonic brow. “Twenty minutes on the dot. Punctual as always, Ms. Sanderson.”
“I didn’t know you were counting the minutes to see me again,” she replied.
Damn, it sounded like she was flirting with him! Valentina wanted to stuff her foot right into her mouth. Or her fist right into his ugly, imperious maw.Except that he isn’t ugly,she reluctantly thought to herself.Far from it.
“I was,” replied Daniels, his voice low.
