The Tycoons Unexpected Virgin

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Gracie Carver sat at her desk, drawing out the last little bit of paper work for the day. The rest of the office staff on the executive floor had left long ago. Usually Gracie was with them, on a regular week night she would be home curled up on the couch watching old movies while knitting or reading  the new times best seller.

She  didn’t mind staying late at work despite the fact it was a Friday night, the only reason why she was sitting in the office instead of at home was because her apartment was as cold as the grave. Her landlord was dragging his feet about fixing her ancient boiler. Why did it have to choose such an aquward time to die! She thought, whishing she could somehow magic it fixed so she could return to a warm house. The old girl had been on its last legs when she had moved in to the beautiful old Victorian. She had loved the small apartment on site.  The large ceilings and quirky spaces in the top floor flat had suited her the moment she had stepped through the door. Despite the problems she knew came with older places she had still loved it and wanted to move in. But now after struggling and rattling for three years, and in one of the coldest winter on record her boiler had finally given up. Why it couldn’t have waited till summer to do this thought Gracie, as she was inputting the last changes and corrections in a document before she sent it off to the printer.

Gracie had already called her landlord twice from work that day to try and organise a repair man. But the extreme cold had guaranteed even emergency repair men were booked solid for the next few days. Looking out of the window at the cold glittering lights in the London sky line she sighs and starts to gather her stuff. Scrolling through her phone trying to think of someone who she could call on such short notice for a couch to crash on. Gracie mentally starts ticking off people in her contacts. Most of her friends had kids or were living with partners so it was not reasonable to think she could simply crash on their couch until the situation was resolved. And she did not fancy hopping for place to place or renting a cheap hotel room. Both options would end up being to bothersome and expensive on a her salary. Silently cursing her landlord, the boiler and British weather in general for the overall inconvenience of the situation Gracie put her bag on her desk and stuffs a few of her personal belongings inside.

I just need a warm night sleep she moans. Kicking her shoes off she leans back in her chair and closes her eyes, just five minutes she thinks to herself, leaning further back in the standard office swivel chair that was obviously meant more for productivity rather than comfort. As she tries to get comfortable, the chair creeks and groans in protest objecting to the pressure. Gracie’s apartment had been so cold she had not even been able to get to sleep the night before. The old Victorian windows had frosted over.  She had tried but the cold had been so fierce and biting that it had seeped through three layers of clothes and her duvets, resulting in constant shivers through the night and a very cold splash for a wash up in the morning.

“I would give my left  arm for a warm place to sleep tonight,” she muttered out loud, letting out a even larger sigh Gracie shifter a bit in the chair so that her hip was settled more on the seat, her behind was turned toward the main office door. Allowing her tight pencil skirt to ride a bit more up her thigh and crossing her feet in an attempt to get cosy. The gentle rasp of her nylon tights rubbing together as she crossed her legs sounding loud in the deserted office. Undoing her blazer and unbuttoning her blouse a bit she settled down and tried to nap.

This is just unacceptable, Alexi Papadakis though as he snapped his cell phone shut in the fast elevator on the way to his private office suit. I don’t care what lame excuse you try to pawn off on me, I am a busy man and do not accept people standing me up, and leaving me waiting in a restaurant for fifteen minutes. Especially spoiled over indulged models with nothing more in their head then the next spring fashion on the catwalk in Milan or how many glossy magazines and news sheets had their drunken party picture on the front page.