The New Hire :: A Billionaire Virgin Romance

by Sage Rae

  The New Hire

  It was probably a mistake to hire little, virgin Winnie from small-town Texas as my secretary. Hell, it could ruin my whole career.

  I’m ten years older, and I know I have to protect her from the world—especially my twin brother and partner, Dan, who will f•ck anything that moves (even though he’s engaged). He’s ruined enough secretaries’ lives, but I won’t let him mess with Winnie’s head.

  She’s different. A singer. A songwriter. And whip-smart, to boot.

  But can I resist her? That perfect ass, those bright blue eyes…and her innocence. Just showing her New York City is almost enough to get into her pants. She looks at me like I own the world. Which, as a billionaire, I basically do.

  I want to show her everything. Help her become the strong, empowered woman I know is hiding in there.

  And as her boss, I know I can’t go over the line. Or I’ll ruin everything.

  Winnie

  “What do you mean, one hundred dollars more?” Winnie gasped, blinking eagle eyes at the owner of the music studio space in downtown Austin. “You told me last week I could have this for the entire month—“

  “Baby, if you knew how many little girls like you come through here, thinking just because you can play a few chords on guitar you can be a star, you’d think again talking to me like that,” Baxter said, leering. He brought his burly arms over his chest, making himself much taller and broader than the small-town, farm-girl Winnie.

  Winnie was accustomed to people trying to make her feel weak. She set her jaw, wishing she had the confidence to tell this man exactly what she thought of him. That he was cruel to get between her and her work. That she needed that studio space, as promised, for the cost he’d originally offered. But also, she knew what Baxter was saying was more-or-less correct. She WAS one of thousands and thousands of hopeful singer-songwriters in Austin. And probably a lot more of them were willing to pay.

  “I’ll figure something out,” Winnie said, her nostrils flaring. “Give me till the end of the day. Okay?”

  “Well, if you can’t come up with the cash, I’m giving your space to someone else,” Baxter said, yanking his unibrow up his forehead.

  Winnie whipped out of the studio and into the daunting Austin sunlight, feeling drips of sweat ooze down her chest and back. Her guitar bounded against her thighs, bruising her. But she had to rush. In the midst of her bicker with Baxter, she hadn’t left on time for her first—and only offered—job interview since her move to Austin two weeks before. Jesus. Could she do anything right? Her mother’s voice echoed in her head, from that last day on the farm. “Don’t be stupid, Winnie. You’ve never lived anywhere but here. What makes you think you can really handle Austin?”

  Winnie bucked onto the city bus, gripping the railing on the inside. The bus fumes filled her nose, and she coughed, attracting angry glares from various passengers. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered to herself. She sanded her hand down her yellow dress, across her thighs, trying to smooth the fabric. Her thighs were thick, muscular. Certainly unlike the city-girl-legs she’d grown accustomed to seeing since her arrival. It was like they never ate a thing.

  The job interview was for a position as secretary for the most successful architecture firm in downtown Austin. The firm was owned by two self-made billionaire brothers, Dan and Carter Russell—both incredibly attractive, 30-somethings who frequently graced the cover of several tabloid magazines for their high-end affairs and mansions across the world. At least, this is what Winnie’s roommate had told her that morning, over cereal. Winnie hadn’t bothered to research the twins. Rather, she’d shrugged, saying, “I took that secretary course online. I know what I’m doing. If they want a good secretary, I’ll be that for them. I don’t need to know their personal lives.”

  Outside the architecture office, Winnie grimaced at her guitar in her hand. She didn’t want to enter with it—thought it showed some kind of flightiness, or that she was “like all the others” in Austin (as Baxter had said). But she would have rather snapped off her arm than leave the guitar outside. So, she trudged through the gleaming glass doors, up the curved staircase, and found herself dropping the guitar at the front of the bright-red secretary desk in the second-floor foyer. The on-duty secretary was a cold-looking woman with high cheekbones and a bun at the very top of her head. She peered up at Winnie with disdain, curving her mouth in an almost evil way.

  “I assume you’re Winnie Buckley,” she said, sounding snide.

  “I am. I am. I’m sorry, I’m just a little bit late—“ Winnie said, stuttering. “There was an issue with—“

  “I’m sorry, but we don’t tolerate any tardiness here at the offices of Russell and Russell,” the woman said. She spun in her chair, lifting a phone to her ear. She seemed to spit her blinks at Winnie, making Winnie step back, confused. No one had ever treated her so coldly. Not back home.

  “But I’m here right now. We can do the interview,” Winnie said, hating how desperate she sounded. “I mean, it seems stupid that you need someone… And I’m right here. I’ve taken all the online courses…”

  “Ms. Buckley, it’s ridiculous for you to argue another moment more. Please, see yourself out. I don’t have enough security to do it today,” the secretary sighed.

  Winnie chin bounced, but she forced her tears back. No. She wouldn’t breakdown in front of this woman. Her stomach surged with self-hatred. Her hand found her guitar case handle down below and lifted it. Forcing a nod, she tilted her head toward the door.

  “I really am sorry,” she whispered, feeling like a much smaller, much younger girl. She trudged toward the door, escaping down the steps and into the sparkling Austin light. Once outside, she collapsed on a bench, her entire body quaking. What the hell had she been thinking? She’d never been a girl everything had worked out for. She’d been foolish to dream. Foolish to think she could whirl her virginal self to the big city of Austin and expect anything but wall after wall.

  Carter

  The French bistro along the river buzzed with the late-lunch, boozy crew of downtown Austin. Carter Russell, a 34 year old self-made billionaire and architect, sipped his martini, watching as his brother, Dan Russell, flirted with their secretary, Elise, with sloppy, drunken eyes. Beside Dan sat Dan’s fiancé, the cold and calculating Penelope Griswald, who was halfway through a bottle of rosé. Her lips curled, making her look cruel, as she assessed Dan.

  “Your shorthand is absolutely impeccable,” Dan sighed, drawing Elise’s notepad toward his face. “Where did you go to secretary school again?”

  “I didn’t,” Elise tittered, shrugging her thin, bird-like shoulders. “My mother taught me everything I know. But she was world-class. She worked for a New York City advertiser.”

  Penelope took a giant slug of her wine, arching her eyebrow toward Carter, as if to say: Do something. But Carter leaned back, loving the show. Since he and Dan had begun their business, Dan had been absolutely shameless in flirting with their secretaries—appreciating his status as an “old-fashioned” business owner. And, if Carter was being honest, he’d slept with his fair share of secretaries, as well. Ordinarily, he didn’t share with his brother, which created a kind of strange competition between them. It was clear, however, that Dan had won this round. Carter was generally aware that Dan had been sleeping with Elise for the previous six weeks, maybe more, which had created a strange dynamic every time Penelope was around.

  “All right. Can we get back to business?” Penelope said, her voice shrill.

  Carter knocked his finished drinking glass to the table. His mind buzzed. “They start building next week. But they need us in New York as early as tomo
rrow morning, for a last round of meetings. According to Jeff, the building has a rather negative connotation for the people in the neighborhood. It’s going to overshadow a favorite park. Which led to my suggestion that we build a fountain, attached to the building, which will lead into the park.” Carter turned back to Elise, who’d been at that meeting, taking notes. “Elise, I assume you have the notes regarding the proposed fountain? Along with the graphs I drew.”

  Elise fumbled through her papers. Her eyes became buggy, popping out from above her cheeks, and her fingers fumbled. Her breath was hot, like fumes. Dan shifted in his seat, his previous smile replaced with a smirk. Penelope had begun to grin, like she was watching the end of a game she’d been preparing to win.

  “Oh, shoot,” Elise murmured, her voice raspy. “Jesus me. I thought I grabbed that file…”

  Carter drew back in his chair, watching. The cheese plate in front of him remained untouched. Penelope sipped the last of her wine, sanding her fingers down her too-slim, skeletal torso. It was Dan’s turn to speak. In some respects, this was his issue.

  “Elise, didn’t we have this problem last week, as well?” Dan said. He sounded like her father, poised to reprimand her.

  Elise bucked her head up, looking like a deer in the headlights. In front of her, the papers had grown scattered. A collection of shorthand notes, without a home. “I don’t—that was different—“ she stuttered.

  “Elise, now, I know we’ve spoken privately about this. But it’s absolutely essential that you don’t waste our time,” Dan continued. He lifted a firm hand to Penelope’s shoulder, gripping it. Penelope’s face turned a strange shade of green. “And I know, I know. You’re a bit young. But honestly, honey, Carter and I gave you a chance when we offered you this job. And you’re really letting us down.”

  “Think of our family, Elise,” Penelope said, her eyes glittering. “Carter, Dan, and me. A family. You’re representing us. Everything you do, it can fall back on our shoulders. Now, I know you don’t want that.”

  Suddenly, Elise bolted up from her chair, making it clatter to the ground behind her. Her chin quivered with rage. Carter sniffed, taking a bored bite of cheese. In some respects, this scene had played out for him countless times. Dan had made her think she was meaningful to him. That she captivated him enough to keep him around. But in essence, she was his plaything. His toy, to flirt with, even when his fiancé was around.

  “Think of your family?” Elise shrieked. Several people in the restaurant spun toward them, their eyes wide and ravenous. “You didn’t tell me to think of your family when you asked me to—to crawl around like—with—“ Sweat poured from her forehead.

  Dan clucked his tongue. His hand remained on the haughty Penelope’s shoulder. In some respects, Carter wanted to rush up, grab Elise’s hand, and tell her to run. Tell her that anything involved with Russell and Russell, brothers grim, was poisonous. But he knew he was a part of that poison. As self-made billionaires, they’d been allowed every woman in the world; everything they could have ever dreamed of. And this time tomorrow, Elise’s name would be forgotten on even Carter’s lips.

  “We’ll have Monica contact you regarding your search for another position,” Carter said. He clicked his knife against his glass, ordering another round from a passing waiter.

  Elise huffed, her hands becoming fists at her side. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You’re fired, sweetie,” Penelope said, sounding bored already. “Run along. I hope you enjoyed your foie gras. Can’t imagine another time you’ll have that again.”

  Elise spun from the table, stomping her second-hand heels across the marble floor. The other diners followed her with their eyes only half-way, before returning to their meals. This sort of thing, it happened all the time at a place like Renés. It couldn’t be helped.

  “Good one,” Carter said, rolling his eyes.

  “What? You know she was getting needy,” Dan sighed. He tossed a few pieces of cheese onto his tongue, chewing like a cow. “I mean, she wasn’t even THAT good, anyway. At being a secretary. I just said that shorthand thing because I thought she was losing confidence.”

  “Enough, Dan,” Penelope said. She, too, rose up from her chair, drawing her designer purse over her arm. “I think I’ll go home and get some shut-eye before our plane to New York tomorrow. I suppose it’ll be simple enough to find a new secretary who can handle Elise’s—unique talents. Although, for all our sakes, I do hope that she has a bit more brawn and gumption.”

  Penelope tapped from the restaurant, shifting her skeletal body left and right as she moved. Dan and Carter watched her for only a moment, before returning to their drinks. Carter chuckled, without meaning to. But soon, Dan joined him—all-out cackling as he sipped his whiskey.

  “We have to stop doing that,” Carter said, his eyes glowing. “I mean, that poor idiot girl.”

  “She wasn’t so poor, and she wasn’t such an idiot,” Dan said. “The girl knew her way around in bed, if you know what I mean. But she fell in love with me. What can I say? It’s an easy thing to do.”

  “We’ve gone through five secretaries in the last year,” Carter said. “It’s making us look horrible in front of clients.”

  “We’re certainly developing quite a reputation,” Dan snickered. “I suppose it’s your turn, next.”

  “No. I told you, I’m not doing it anymore,” Carter said, hearing regret snake through his voice. “The business needs to come first. This new building in New York could make us the prime architecture firm in all of North America. I need a girl who can keep her dress on. A girl who will care about the business. We can get girls anywhere, Dan. And—fuck, I mean. You’re literally engaged, so.”

  “Ha. Penelope hasn’t put out in months,” Dan said. “She said she doesn’t care what I do, as long as I don’t touch her. You saw the way she winced when I put my hand on her shoulder? But damn, she knows I love her. Or, whatever love is between us.”

  “Ha. If that’s love, then I don’t want any part of it,” Carter said.

  “You wouldn’t get it. But hey. Penelope has that sister. I keep telling you. It should be the brothers and the sisters, like some sort of fucked up fairy tale, where at the end the bad guys get all the goods.”

  “You really do like to see yourself as a villain, don’t you?” Carter offered, drawing up from his chair. He chugged the rest of his whiskey, blinking toward the bright light gleaming in from the window. “Well, fuck. I’ll put Monica on getting us another personal secretary, I guess.”

  “Why not just bring Monica to New York?” Dan asked.

  Carter gave him a rueful look. Dan knew very well why Monica couldn’t come with. Three years before, Carter and Monica had had a very short, very emotional affair. Monica had told him she’d leave her husband for him. But when he’d stammered—no, don’t do that. Not for me, she’d immediately ended their sexual affair and insisted upon quitting. But back then, and now, she was the brains of the secretarial squad, knowing more about the business than even Dan and Carter. Carter and Dan had had to beg her to stay.

  Since then, she’d refused to go on a business trip with them, choosing instead to remain on the “homestead,” far away from “you assholes.” She was aware of the further secretarial affairs, but kept her lips pressed shut. And, for her immense service, Dan and Carter paid her handsomely. According to Forbes, she was the best-paid secretary in all of the United States.

  “We’ll find someone,” Carter said, turning toward the door. “Are you going to stay here all afternoon and drink alone?”

  “Might,” Dan said, shrugging. “Don’t give a fuck if I do.”

  “Just don’t be hungover for the meetings tomorrow,” Carter said. “This one is big, Dan. We can’t fuck around.”

  “Then find us a secretary we won’t fuck around with,” Dan said, his eyes glittering. “And maybe we can focus, for once.”

  Carter strutted outside, dialing his driver, Thomas, who was positioned
just a block away. Thomas sped up into the pick-up area, allowing Carter to fall into the back seat of the black car. He slipped on his sunglasses, grumbling.

  “You’ll never fucking believe what happened again,” he sighed.

  “You lost another one?” Thomas asked.

  “Damn straight.”

  “Where you want to go?”

  “Back to the office, I guess,” Carter said. “I’ll go through a few dozen applications. See what I can find before leaving. Then, pick me up at six-thirty. I have a client dinner tonight. Fuck, it’s like it never ends.” Carter whipped his fingers over his cheeks, rubbing at his five-o-clock shadow. It made him look gruff, handsome, when paired with his immaculate black suit. “Like a cologne model, or something,” Monica had said to him years before, after fucking. “It’s irresistible.”

  Whoever he found to replace Elise, he knew she couldn’t be beautiful, or provocative, or anything else that would interrupt his and Dan’s deal in New York. This deal was the greatest of their lives. And they couldn’t let their competitive nature, nor their dicks, get in the way.

  Stranger

  Winnie collapsed at the bus stop just outside the architecture firm, tears welling up in her eyes. Tipping her knees together, she drew her guitar case onto her lap and held her guitar aloft. The sunlight glinted across the strings. Before her arrival, she’d daydreamed often about performing on street corners, getting discovered by some passing producer. Isn’t that what happened in the movies? Now, she tossed the case back to the ground and began to strum, allowing her voice to soar over the chords. It was a song she’d written back in her small-town, between chores on her father’s farm. A song that, at the time, had revealed the depths of her sorrow, and how greatly she wanted to flee.

  “If I could break out of this silly town,” she began. “I’d make sure I’d never see you around…”

  The song’s lyrics were about a boy she’d wanted to marry, as a 17 year old kid. He’d been quarterback of the football team, thick and able-bodied and handsome. Back then, she’d told herself that she wanted to wait until marriage to have sex. And when she’d explained that to her boyfriend, he’d immediately gotten down on one knee, ready to have her.