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He came around from behind his desk and reclined casually against it.
“Have a seat, Valentina.”
She seethed at his familiarity.
“I prefer to stand, Mr. Daniels,” she said brazenly.
“Sit,” he said icily, without raising his voice.
Valentina’s wobbly legs yielded against her will, as if he held some sort of mysterious power over her flesh.
“As you know by now, you will be working under me,” Ethan said, flagrantly emphasizing the word ‘under.’ He crossed his athletic arms over his strapping chest. He’d unbuttoned his shirt down to the second button. Valentina could see the masculine cords of his neck and a tiny patch of chest hair. She wanted to touch it. “Directly under me.”
“In what capacity is that?” she bit out angrily. Even if he had offered her a position as a partner, she would’ve declined. She loathed the man. To labor with him day in and day out would be a disaster for her career.
“As my personal assistant.”
“Personal assistant?” Her voice shot up a full octave, as did her eyebrows.
“I will have you know, Mr. Daniels, that I have a master’s degree from the University of Chicago, the number four college in all of the country. And my doctoral degree in architecture from MIT,” she replied, offended. “The Massachusetts Institute of Technology produces more leaders in engineering and architecture than all the top five Ivy League schools put together,” she spewed, taking a cheap shot at his Yale education.
“I am fully aware of your qualifications, Valentina,” he acknowledged. “And I make it a priority to keep myself abreast of the architectural school rankings.”
There was a silent standoff.
“You are an extremely gifted architect,” he said finally.
“I know.” She tossed her head.
“But I’m not sure you’re cut out for this world,” he said with a sneer.
“Architecture is a man’s game, but I can handle my own,” she replied.
“I am certain you can handle it.” His eyes raked her body from head to toe.
She swallowed a lump caught in her throat.
“As talented as you are, you need to learn some humility, Ms. Sanderson. You will learn that from me.”
“Why should I? I can work at any firm in this city I choose,” she retorted.
“You will choose to work with me.” It was not a request.
Valentina gave pause. The magnetic force of his male power filled the room and held her in place, stronger than gravity. She felt imprisoned by his aura, but oddly it did not feel bad. It felt mesmerizing.
Her voice dripped with contempt, but she couldn’t convince her knocking knees to let her rise and exit. “What does personal assistant entail, anyway?”
Her cheeks blushed pink at the affront to her abilities.
“Fetching my mail, retrieving my dry cleaning, bringing my coffee,” he replied, his icy eyes challenging her to defy him.
“Playing catch with a tennis ball?”
Valentina searched his countenance for any sign of humor. This had to be a prank or a practical joke. She’d been preparing for eight fucking years to be an architect, not a secretary.
Yet, she couldn’t leave. Something about him pulled her to him magnetically.
“I will not be treated like a dog,” she said, irate.
