The New Hire :: A Billionaire Virgin Romance

by Sage Rae

  “Great.” Carter reached into his pocket, drawing out a notepad. “Please write down your address here, so that my driver and I can get you in the morning. Remember that you’re going to need to dress business professional. None of these Texas sundresses.”

  “I know. I know,” Winnie said, giving a crazy grin. She swirled her pen across the notepad, jotting down her address. She passed it back to him, snapping at the end of the pen with her little thumb. “So, I guess this means I should run home and pack.”

  “Yes,” Carter said. He felt the hesitation in his voice, knowing that he wanted to tell her to stay. To finish her drink. To have another. But he pushed against these feelings, nodding his head. He used his boss voice once more. “Remember, you’re representing Russell and Russell, now. It’s your first priority.”

  Winnie nodded. And, with the gusto of a child, she flung her arms around Carter, hugged him, and then whirled toward the door. Carter watched as she all-but skipped to the door, then paused, giving him a final smile. Seconds later, Carter stood alone on the back patio, half a beer in hand. Her half-drunk one glinted at him sadly from the table.

  “Shit,” Carter sighed to himself, ruffing his fingers through his hair. “Shit, shit. Shit.”

  But he chugged the last of his beer and strutted from the bar, dialing his driver, who appeared in front of it within two minutes. He sat in the back as he was driven back to his penthouse, leaning his head on the headrest. Winnie. Winnie, is secretary. Somehow, he felt like he was on the brink of something humongous. But that thing could be devastating. He wasn’t sure.

  Take Off

  Winnie’s roommate was still awake, perched at the edge of their couch and flicking through trash television stations. Megan was a 26 year old intern at a nearby magazine, hence why she knew so much about the Russells, and was generally affable, yet in a seemingly constant state of exercising. Even now, she jumped down onto the carpet and began to do crunches, huffing as she watched trash TV stars jump into a hot tub together. They splashed one another, sounding wild and drunken. Winnie averted her eyes. Any time she saw someone partially naked on television, she always averted her eyes. She wasn’t entirely sure why.

  Probably because they understood one thing about the world that she had yet to grasp: sex.

  “What’s up?” Megan asked, huffing between crunches. “You’re home later than normal.”

  “I know. I played at the open mic,” Winnie said. She fell back against the door, her heart surging with feeling. She could still feel the dark eyes of that strange man, Carter Russell, upon her as she’d approached. She wanted to be seen as he saw her eternally. “And something really weird happened.”

  “What? Did you get that record deal you’ve been dreaming about?” Megan asked, making a wry joke.

  “No. I mean,” Winnie shuffled, her nostrils flared. “I wish. But no. Today, I ran into this guy. This man. One of the Russell brothers, you know, from that architecture firm.”

  Megan stopped exercising. She drew herself up, landing her elbows on her knees. Her eyebrows furrowed. “What?” She shook her head, incredulous. “Which one?”

  “Um. Carter,” Winnie said, biting at her lip. “And then, I ran into him again, at the open mic.”

  “I see,” Megan said. She hopped up, her eyes still focused on Winnie. Her slim fingers gripped a water bottle near the television and drew it toward her lips. She knocked it back, still staring. “He tracked you down. What a psycho.”

  “No. No. I don’t think so,” Winnie said, her head swimming. Had he? “But then, after we talked for a bit, he offered me a job, Megan! A job as his secretary. Can you believe it? He said I have to be ready to go to New York City in the morning. Like, in five hours.”

  “Huh.” Megan sounded none-too-pleased. She snuck her head to the right, cracking her neck. “That’s insane. I mean, of course, you know he and his brother are some of the biggest—“ But Megan stopped herself, popping her lips closed.

  “What?” Winnie asked, her eyebrows lowering. “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know. Are you going to go?” Megan asked again, sounding bored.

  “Of course I am. I need to,” Winnie said. She marched toward her bedroom and hovered in the doorway, looking at the sad state of things in her bedroom. The hanging rack had very few clothes, just a few sundresses, a pair of pants, a shirt she’d inherited from her older sister. She sighed, dropping her hands to her sides. “Megan, I don’t have anything to wear. Like, at all. And I don’t exactly have time to shop.”

  “You can borrow!” Megan hollered from the living room. Already, it seemed she was bored with the conversation. She’d begun a round of burpees, tossing her body to the ground and then jumping up again. The house shook, even against her small frame.

  Winnie scampered into Megan’s much larger, much more filled out, “adult woman” bedroom. Paintings adorned the walls, and a closet spilled open with countless clothing options—multiple professional dresses, skirts, and shoes. Winnie’s fingers traced the fabric, marveling at the difference between her and Megan’s lives, up till this point. Winnie hadn’t thought she’d ever escape her small town. Now, she had to have endless confidence: walk into meetings in New York City, lined with billionaires, without faltering. She had to pretend she understood this world, when it was as foreign as China.

  Winnie slotted several outfits into her tiny suitcase, zipped it closed, then sat at the end of her bed. Her body shook with apprehension. From the bathroom, she could hear Megan brushing her teeth—a full three minutes—before walking the final few steps into her bedroom. It was just after one-thirty in the morning, and Winnie felt frightened of sleep. Suppose she didn’t wake up? Suppose Carter Russell was outside her house at five in the morning, waiting for her—and she was just inside, drooling on her pillow? She wouldn’t miss another opportunity. Couldn’t.

  If she was going to make this work, she was going to have to fight. So, she decided to stay awake. She paced her bedroom. Washed her hair. Blinked at the dark window, waiting for the first sign of sunlight. Within hours, she’d be on a plane for the first time in her life. Would she be seated next to Carter? She fizzed with anxiety at the thought of this, knowing that she could hardly handle speaking with him, let alone spending hours at a time with him. She’d never been terribly confident. But now…

  Five minutes before five, Winnie snuck out onto the front porch, locking the door behind her. She gripped the suitcase, not wanting to set it down. The block was completely black, without stars above. In the distance, the city skyline looked cold and hard—so unlike the warmth of her farm, of wide open fields. Winnie remembered reading about New York as a much younger girl, craving the scenes of the city, the people on the subway (as if that could possibly be real! A train, in a city!), the jazz music she felt probably churned from every single bar…

  A black vehicle pulled to a stop at her curb. Carter Russell, wearing an immaculate suit, a thin overcoat over the top, drew from the back, nodding toward her. Winnie shuffled down the steps, her small heels clacking, before arriving in front of him. She reached forward, on instinct, and shook his hand. She prayed that her body and mind would go on autopilot, so she wouldn’t have to rely on her anxious thoughts.

  “Good morning,” he said to her, his voice again firm and boss-like.

  “Good morning, sir,” she said, bowing her head. “Glad to see you.”

  Winnie rushed around the side of the black car, seating herself and buckling herself in. The driver placed her suitcase in the back trunk, not commenting on how scuffed it was, how strange it probably looked next to the billionaire’s suitcase. Winnie forced a moment of anxiety away from her, and lifted a notebook from her purse. She wanted to be ready to work, at any moment. To prove herself not to be some honky tonk country girl, but a professional woman who could be involved with one of the biggest architectural feats in the firm’s history.

  “I see you’re ready,” Carter said, giving her a cocky smi
le.

  “Always,” Winnie said.

  The car creaked away from the curb, escalating them toward the highway and the airport. And, as they drove, Carter updated Winnie on the who-was-who, what-was-what in his business, in the upcoming deal with the New York office, and what each meeting needed to accomplish. Winnie’s pen was fast, writing shorthand with precision. And each time Carter asked her to recite something back to him, she always had the answer.

  “I have to say, I’m impressed,” Carter said, after she answered the fifth question correctly. “I didn’t imagine that you’d be this—well. This qualified. You don’t imagine a girl you pick up at the open mic night will have the kind of skills of a top-rate secretary.”

  Winnie felt a bubble of relief well up in her stomach. She forced her lips down, praying she wouldn't grin like some kind of kid. She didn’t want to seem like an imbecile. “Sure. Well, I work really hard…” She trailed off, knowing her face was growing red.

  The driver dropped them at the airport, placing their suitcases side by side on the sidewalk. Winnie gazed up at Carter, fearful, feeling his incredible ego sizzling out from him. Again, he had perfect five o’clock shadow, making him look gruff, moody, handsome. She lifted her hand to her hair, then realized she was shaking. Jesus, Winnie. Pull yourself together, she thought.

  Winnie had never been through airport security, and was anxious, peering over the crowd to spot how they handled everything. But within seconds, Carter gripped her forearm, leading her toward a separate area—for member’s only. He scoffed, saying, “We’re not waiting with them, Winnie,” as if she was a part of a different echelon of people, now. Again, she felt her cheeks burn. She wished she could control it.

  Apparently, due to Carter’s incredible celebrity and hefty bank account, he was given an entire portion of the plane all to himself, with its own stewardess. Winnie sat across from him, her eyes cast toward the window. Carter leaned his head back, his own eyes unseeing, and his massive hands folded over his flat stomach. Winnie couldn’t help but imagine the six-pack abs beneath, the coarse black hair over the top. A man’s stomach, a man’s muscular chest. She swallowed, feeling her stomach ache with emotion.

  It was really just that she hadn’t been attracted to anyone in years, she told herself. And now, finally, a very handsome man was paying attention to her, and she was losing her mind. She had to remain professional. Astute. A business girl, with a business mind, and not the farm girl she knew she was.

  “You haven’t been a plane before. Have you, Winnie?” Carter suddenly asked her, tilting his head.

  Winnie was shocked at how easy it was for him to see right through her. Her nostrils flared, showing her anxiety. “No,” she answered. “But I mean. It’s not that scary, right? People do it all the time…”

  “They do indeed. I myself have flown three times in the past week,” Carter said, giving her a smile that was strangely assuring. “If you want to, you can lay your head back and take a rest. I really don’t mind. We can continue to go over the notes when we arrive in the city. We’ll have two hours before the first meeting.”

  “I don’t know how I could possibly sleep through my first plane ride,” Winnie said, her voice high-pitched. She gripped her knees, casting her eyes out the window once more. “Truth be told, I want to remember every single second.”

  “Well, if this works out, you’ll be on a lot of different planes, going all over the world. Especially if we start building in Europe, like I’m planning to,” Carter said. “Did you ever think you’d go to Paris? Rome?” He leaned his head closer, his eyes glittering. “Even places in Asia, Winnie. You could see the Taj Mahal.”

  Winnie’s stomach stirred. Beneath them, the plane began to rush down the runway, casting them toward the sky. The moment the plane’s wheels erupted from the ground, she gripped her handrails until her fingers turned white. Carter watched her for a moment, holding her eyes. “It’s okay,” he said. The sound of his voice was warm, filled with compassion—yet still so masculine, confident. Somehow, it translated all the calm feelings she needed.

  “Thank you,” Winnie sputtered, when the plane tipped above the clouds. Her heart slowed, and her chin fell to her chest. She forced a small smile. “Just having you say that—“

  But Carter had already busied himself, calling the stewardess to his side. He ordered two coffees, two croissants, and asked for an architecture magazine. The woman nodded, spun toward the front, and returned in just seconds. The architecture magazine was aesthetically beautiful, featuring an old Chicago hotel on the front cover. Carter flapped the magazine toward Winnie, grinning.

  “I always want to stay abreast of my industry,” he said. “My brother, Dan, he says doing homework is for suckers. He says we already have the name. Russell and Russell. That’s all the world needs, you know? But dammit, I got into this business because, at least at one time, I considered myself some kind of fucking artist. Isn’t that stupid? But I did.”

  “It’s not stupid,” Winnie said. She perked up in her chair. “It was your reason for doing everything.”

  “Well, at first, it wasn’t all for the money,” Carter said. “Ah—it doesn’t matter. Here, have the coffee. And they bring in these French pastries for me, specially, when I fly. A French baker in Austin makes them. They’re about ten dollars each, if you can believe it. But tasty as hell.”

  Winnie snuck a bit of the crisp edge of the croissant in her mouth, chewing slowly. Immediately, it melted against her tongue—layer by layer of salt and butter and something gooey.

  “Oh my goodness,” she said, swallowing and placing her hand over her mouth. She was so conscious of how Carter saw her; of whether or not she was chewing “correctly” in front of him. “That’s just unforgettable,” she said.

  Carter turned back to his magazine, eating his croissant. Winnie felt suddenly like she wanted to keep talking to him. To tell him all the strange thoughts she was having, embarking on this trip across the country. But she held back, not wanting to be perceived as a little girl. Jesus, imagine if he knew she was a virgin, she thought. He would probably laugh, tell her that the big world was far too much for her. He would probably send her home.

  Shame forced her head down. She sipped her coffee, her nostrils flared. Outside, the sun began to glint up from the horizon line, casting oranges and yellows and pinks across the open fields. Freedom. Was this what she’d been searching for?

  NYC

  After an hour on the plane, Winnie’s little head leaned off the side of the seat, bouncing lightly as they shot closer toward the big city. She’d fallen asleep maybe five minutes before, despite drinking her coffee quickly, and still had a small bite of croissant left on her plate. She’d told Carter that she wanted to make the croissant last, as it was the best thing she’d ever tasted. Carter thought this was adorable, but made sure not to show it—busying himself with his architecture magazine.

  Carter had never met anyone who hadn’t flown before. There was such a subtle innocence to this idea—that a woman could possibly grow to be 24 years old, be so whip-smart when it came to business dealings, and sing like an absolute bird, and yet not even step onto an airplane. He imagined her old life, tucked away in some small area of Texas. How had she even had imagination enough to wonder at the big, wide world?

  Just before landing, Carter leaned toward Winnie, placing his hand on her knee. She jumped slightly, blinking wide eyes up at him. For a moment, it seemed she didn’t know where they were, or who he was.

  “We’re about to land,” Carter said. “I wanted you to see the city as we come down.”

  “Oh! Oh gosh. I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep at all…” Winnie said, straightening her back. She whipped her brown curls across her shoulder, then leaned closer to the window. Outside, they approached the city—its sparkling skyscrapers, its shimmering water. “I can’t believe it,” Winnie murmured. “It’s really just enormous, isn’t it?”

  During landing, Winnie again gripped
the seat rests, pressing her lips together. Her eyes flickered toward Carter’s, and then back to the window, as if she didn’t want him to know how frightened she was. Carter could see through her masquerade, through the way she tried to prove she was professional and “old enough” to be traveling with him.

  But he wouldn’t let her know. Couldn’t possibly embarrass her like that. He straightened up, closing his architecture magazine in his briefcase, and began to busy himself with thoughts of their approaching meetings. He couldn’t just float along all day, marveling at the innocence and bright eyes of Winnie. It was unlike him. So, he immediately stopped it.

  The plane touched down, casting Winnie and Carter into the chaos of JFK airport. Carter walked quickly, his strides long, with Winnie struggling to keep up. He didn’t speak, but kept tabs on her—ensuring that she ducked around crowds and then caught back up to him.

  Once outside, Carter inhaled the humid air, a full ten degrees cooler than Austin’s, and shrugged out of his business jacket. The driver he’d hired for the week in the city, Cosmo, yanked up. Cosmo bounced from the side, all smiles, and reached for their suitcases. “You must be Carter and Elise,” he said, shaking their hands. “I’m Cosmo.”

  “Actually, there was a change,” Carter offered. “Elise is now Winnie. Winnie is my new secretary.”

  Cosmo’s smile didn’t falter for a second. “Of course,” he said. “That’s wonderful. Please. Sit.” He whipped open the back door, allowing Winnie to enter. She sat primly, drawing her fingers across her lap to adjust her business dress. Just before Cosmo slammed the door, her lost eyes met with Carter’s—showing a moment of apprehension.

  Carter sat in back, listening to Cosmo as he rattled on about his girlfriend, his life in Brooklyn, the baseball game he attended just days before. “You know, if you want great pasta during your trip, I just found the most impeccable place. Little hole in the wall.”

  “Oh!” Winnie said, leaning forward. “Absolutely. Do you know if they’re very expensive?”