His Nasty Virgin

***AUTHOR’S NOTE***

Hi lovely Readers, here’s the author.

Thank you for reading to the end of this book, and a new book is about to start.

Title: ” My Ultimate Crush”.

VIVIAN

I left my cubicle for two minutes -two minutes- and what did I find plastered all over the background of my desktop when I came back? A collage of George Clooney against a vibrantly colored background. Mostly shirtless and entirely sexy, but not appropriate to be looking at on a company computer.

And I knew exactly which one of my co-workers to thank for this mortifying display.

“Molly!” I gasped, frantically navigating to the settings window to change everything back. “You’re going to get me in trouble!”

Her suppressed giggles from the other side of our shared cubicle wall erupted into outright laughter. “What? I thought you said you liked older men like George Clooney.”

I groaned. “I told you that in confidence.”

“Daniel Day-Lewis. Does he do it for you, too?”

“Stop it.”

“Robert DeNiro?”This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

“I said older men, not grandpas.”

“Oh, lighten up. It was just a prank.”

“A prank that could get me fired.”

Molly twirled a lock of her curly red hair around her finger, leaning over the flimsy cubicle wall to roll her eyes. “Ooh, I sure hope we don’t lose our co-op positions that pay us pennies on the dollar.”

“It could be worse,” I insisted. “We could be interns. They don’t earn anything at all.”

She curled her nose. “That should be illegal. You’d think a company as big as Blue Cloud Financial would be able to

take care of its employees, interns or otherwise.”

I shrugged. “It’s always about the bottom line.”

“You don’t sound too bothered.”

“Of course it bothers me. That’s why I’m trying to learn as much as I can so I can open my investment firm one day.” I tilted my chin up and grinned. “Everyone’s going to get paid when I’m in charge. Even the interns. It’s only fair considering how much work they do.”

“Well, ain’t you a saint?” Molly said dryly. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Viv. You’re not going to be the next Merrill Lynch overnight. We still have to get through our placement and then one more year of college.”

“You sound super excited about it.”

Molly slumped down into her creaky office chair, staring up at the fluorescent light panels above us while she spun around. “Early-as-fuck morning lectures, last-minute crunch sessions before exams, and we’re going to be a year behind all our classmates? Sounds great.”

“One, early morning lectures aren’t that bad. You need to fix your sleep schedule.”

“How dare you,” she replied, feigning offense.

“Two, you wouldn’t need to crunch for exams if you spread out your studying like I do.”

“We both know that’s not going to happen.”

“And three, why do you need the rest of your classmates when you have me?”

Molly sat up and smiled. “Alright, but that’s the only good thing to come out of this.”

One of the senior investment analysts who had a cubicle across from us cleared her throat. Her name was Marta, according to the metal nameplate sitting on her desk. Marta shot us a don’t-you-have-work-to-do glare, prompting Molly and I to sit up straight and get back to the grind.

Naturally, Molly grumbled about the workload the entire time, but I didn’t share the same opinion. I loved working for Blue Cloud Financial. We weren’t allowed to handle the bigger investment portfolios -those were reserved for more practiced portfolio managers- but we got to handle the tail end transaction processing, which was mostly record keeping. Very straightforward, but I loved every minute of it.

Numbers had always made sense to me. Ever since I was a little girl, math was my favorite subject. I couldn’t explain it even if I tried. Numbers and equations and formulas… they were beautiful. Structured. There was no grey area when it came to calculations. Just a right or wrong answer and a step-by-step roadmap of how to get to the right conclusions.

I probably would have pursued a doctorate in mathematics, but it didn’t seem like the sensible thing to do. Even if I earned myself a Ph. D., the last thing I wanted was to be stuck in the void that was the doctoral tenure track.

I had bills to pay and dreams to fulfill.

“Vivian,” Molly hissed. “Earth to Vivian!”

I looked up, startled. “What?”

“Dude, I’ve been trying to get your attention for, like, five minutes.”

“Sorry, I was running everything through the processing form. What’s up?”

“He’s coming,” Molly said sternly. “Alistair McCloud.” I finally noticed the low murmur of excited conversation. Our co-workers were running this way and that, organizing their documents and tidying up. Even Molly was busy straightening her skirt and smoothing out the wrinkles of her shirt. I promptly cleaned up my space -not that it was particularly messy in the first place- to prepare for our boss’s arrival.

Alistair McCloud technically wasn’t our boss. He was our boss’ boss. The big man. The head honcho.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” he said as he stepped out of the elevator and onto our floor. “Would anybody care for a butterscotch candy?”

“Oh my God,” I mumbled under my breath. “He’s so adorable.”

“I know, right?” Molly whispered back. “I just want to pick him up and put him in my pocket.”

Alistair walked over, leaning heavily on his cane. At first glance, he could be mistaken for one of those cute old men who hung out in the park to feed breadcrumbs to pigeons. It was sometimes mind-boggling to know that he was the Chief Financial Officer of Blue Cloud Financial. A self-made multi-millionaire and trendsetter in the investment world.

He didn’t exactly look the part, though. When I first started my co-op, I expected to see nothing but a sea of black suits and red power ties. Alistair, on the other hand, could always be found wearing cable knit sweaters, baggy khaki pants, and sensible loafers. He looked like he just got back from the bingo hall, not fresh from the stock market floor yelling at brokers to buy, sell, or trade.

Maybe that was why I was so impressed by him. He was living proof that you didn’t need to be a cutthroat business snake to play in the major leagues. Alistair McCloud was someone I could aspire to.

Alistair came up to Molly and me with a big smile, handing us each a butterscotch candy wrapped in golden foil. “Hello, you two.”

I smiled back. “Hello, Mr. McCloud. How are you doing today?”

“Better now that it’s Friday,” he said, nudging Molly in the arm.

“I feel that on an emotional level,” she said with a giggle. “Any plans for the weekend?”

“I’m taking the grandkids to the lake house. Haven’t seen those little munchkins in months. I’ve been looking forward to it all day, and it’s all thanks to you, Vivian.”

I arched a curious eyebrow. “Thanks to me?”

“Oh, yes. Arty mentioned that you pulled an all-nighter last night getting those bi-weekly reports in. We were able to expedite the whole portfolio review because of your hard work.”

My cheeks warmed. Arty was my immediate supervisor. It was true that I pulled an all-nighter, but it was entirely by accident. Sometimes I got so wrapped up in the numbers that I lost track of time. I’d forgotten all about it, figuring at some point Arty would take the credit for himself.

“It was nothing,” I assured. “I was happy to do it.”

He crooked his finger at me. I stepped forward and leaned in a bit closer. “Between you and me, you really shouldn’t work so hard. Take it from me, dear. Life’s about more than just your career.”

I shrugged. “The markets never sleep, so why should I?”

“Ah, to be young and energetic again.” Alistair looked me over fondly. “I like you, Miss Jones. You remind me of myself when I was your age. Keep this up and you might find yourself with a full-time offer to join our Blue Cloud family.”

A giddy excitement rose in my chest, but I suppressed it to the best of my ability. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of everyone. “Thank you very much, sir.”