Possessive Boss

1

Val

I sit in the plush waiting room with four other people that look exactly like me, except male and maybe five years older. I ask myself again, for the fiftieth time today, what the heck I’m doing in this room right now, but the answer hasn’t changed.

“Valerie Cotter?” The young, pretty receptionist looks at me. “They’re ready for you.”

“Oh, okay.” I stand up and brush myself off. I take a breath and a guy with perfect hair and straight white teeth glances up. He looks at me like I’m something he stepped on in the subway and I smile sweetly before heading back.

I’ve been dealing with men like that since I was young. I’m a woman in finance, which means I have to put up with some assholes thinking I’m dumb because I’m a woman. I’m used to it, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying. Sometimes I want to punch their smug faces.

But I don’t, of course. I just smile politely and move on with my life.

The receptionist takes me through a short back hall that leads into an open floor plan. The inside of Ficino and Lofthouse Fund Management, or FLFM to most people, is pretty sparse. The Philadelphia office is brand new and there aren’t even desks or cubes set up yet. The main space is empty with ethernet wires for computers lying around on the floor.

“We plan on having more cubes ready by next week,” the receptionist says. “Really these interviews are meant to be preliminary.” She glances back at me with her perfect eyelashes and not a single hair out of place. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

I clench my jaw. She said it, like, a minute ago. “Call me Val,” I say.

“Wonderful. So, Val, the offices are for the upper-level managers. You’re applying for a floor-level management position. You’ll handle some smaller clients, maybe even bring in a few with you if you can, that sort of thing. I believe there’s room to grow, but Jacob can talk about that.”

I frown a little bit. “I’m meeting with Jacob Lofthouse?”

She looks surprised. “Of course.”

“I thought… I thought I was meeting with a hiring manager.”

She laughs a little. “Oh, no. Jacob is very hands on. He’s opening this branch and setting it all up himself.” She smiles at me like I’m a sad little puppy. “Okay, he’s right in there.”

She gestures at a conference room. Inside is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life sitting at a large table with papers surrounding him. He’s leaning forward, reading something with this perfect look of pure concentration on his face. He’s wearing a navy-blue suit that fits his muscular frame perfectly. His hair is short and pushed to the side, and his eyes are a sparkling green. There’s just the right amount of stubble and, for a second, I can feel it in my mind, brushing against my cheek.

“Go on in,” she says to me.

“Right. Thanks.” I smile. “Did I get your name?”

“My name is Aimee Messina. Nice to meet you, Val.” She turns on her expensive heels and walks back up front, flowing gracefully like water.

I sigh and turn away. I step in through the door and Jacob looks up at me. He’s even more gorgeous staring right in my face and for a second, I think I might run away.

But I walk over and extend my hand. “Mr. Lofthouse. I’m Val Cotter.”

“Oh, hey, Val Cotter.” He grins and stands, taking my hand. We shake. It’s nice and firm like my father taught me. “Great, thanks so much for coming in.”

I take a seat across from him and he shuffles through some papers. “Sorry. We’re a mess right now and I’m really disorganized.”

“No problem, take your time.”

“Here you are.” He pulls out what I assume is my resume. “Val Cotter. Looking for a junior manager position.” He reads through it, mouthing the words to himself. “Huh. Notre Dame. That’s cool.”

“I loved it there. Except in the winter.”

“So you hated it most of the time.”

I laugh and nod. “Pretty much.”

“I want to ask you the most cliché Notre Dame question possible.”

“Yes, I went to football games.”

He grins at me. “Perfect. Not that I care either way, but I couldn’t help myself.”

I shrug a little. “It’s a thing there, for sure.”

“A thing? You mean, a massive moneymaker and one of the most absurdly overproduced things imaginable?”

“Yep. Pretty much that.”

He laughs and keeps reading. “Masters from Harvard. Did a yearlong residency at Oxford.” He looks up again. “Very impressive.”

“I don’t have a lot of practical experience, but I think I make up for it with my internships.”

“I see you were with a few small hedge funds. Oh, I know Beyer and Branston. John Beyer is a friend of mine.”

I perk up a little. “John was the one that took me on in the first place. He’s one of my references, actually.”