Cocky CFO: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 21) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  A Man Who Knows What He Wants Series

  Cocky CFO

  Amelia

  Carson

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Fireman's Filthy 4th

  COCKY CFO

  AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE

  _______________________

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 21

  FLORA FERRARI

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  A Man Who Knows What He Wants Series

  Cocky CFO

  1. Amelia

  2. Carson

  3. Amelia

  4. Amelia

  5. Amelia

  6. Carson

  7. Amelia

  8. Carson

  9. Amelia

  10. Amelia

  11. Carson

  12. Carson

  13. Carson

  14. Amelia

  15. Amelia

  16. Amelia

  17. Amelia

  18. Amelia

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Fireman's Filthy 4th

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2017 by Flora Ferrari.

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

  Book 1: Baby Lust

  Book 2: Veteran

  Book 3: Built

  Book 4: Bambino

  Book 5: Rescued

  Book 6: Leader

  Book 7: Professor

  Book 8: Burned

  Book 9: Worldly

  Book 10: Pistol

  Book 11: Policed

  Book 12: Driven

  Book 13: Lucky 13

  Book 14: Lumberjacked

  Book 15: Protector

  Book 16: Carpenter

  Book 17: Italian Stallion

  Book 18: Gardener

  Book 19: Budapest Billionaire’s Virgin

  Book 20: Billionaire’s Babysitter

  Book 21: Cocky CFO

  Book 22: Fireman’s Filthy 4th

  Book 23: Mechanic

  COCKY CFO

  The rabbit doesn’t make me jump. My fingers don’t provide the ultimate thumbs up experience. And no man can, that’s for sure.

  And to make matters worse, now everybody knows thanks to my not so little slip up.

  And everyone includes him…our new Chief Financial Officer, Carson Cash.

  He tells me CFO stands for something else entirely...the cure to what ails me.

  The first rule of business is “never fish off the company pier,” but he’s no red herring, and I’m not the one fishing. He’s a shark and he's circling, but when he gives me a naked call should I exercise my option and let him straddle my butterfly spread?

  He’s got me wanting to pivot tables left and right in his office, so we can merge each and every cell, but will he be just another crash or have I finally met the only man who truly knows how to excel?

  *Cocky CFO is an insta-everything standalone romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

  Get your FREE extended epilogue of Cocky CFO by signing up to my mailing list. You’ll receive an email as soon as it’s ready.

  *If you already signed up, THANK YOU! You will get this and all future freebies automatically.

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  http://FerrariFantasies.com

  CHAPTER 1

  Amelia

  Mystery Man? I want details.

  Need those reports in 30 minutes.

  Forms must be completed by the close of business.

  I plop down at my desk with the sandwich I picked up thirty minutes ago in the deli on the first floor of our building. It was warm when I got it, but after I bumped into Shawn from marketing in the elevator, who just wanted to show me “one thing real quick,” it’s now a soggy mess.

  I missed my only solace for the workday, my fifteen minutes of sun during my lunch break. And now it looks like I’m going to miss lunch too. Eight dollars and fifty cents down the drain. My veggie delight isn’t looking so delightful.

  I look at my computer screen and start to prioritize the instant messages that came in while I was gone. Amelia do this. Amelia we need that.

  I’m upset about missing lunch, but even more disappointed about my date from last night. I click on Shari’s message and start replying.

  Disaster. Don’t know why I went back to his place.

  Still no big O?

  Story of my life. Will go to my grave never knowing the pleasure.

  A few more chat windows pop up along with some email about a new hire. I click back on Shari’s chat and stare at my sandwich.

  I don’t go on break for another two hours, and the line at the vending machine will be too long then. Fifteen minutes to take the elevator down, wait in line, and try to make it back up isn’t enough. My boss is a stickler for time and one minute late is the same as one hour to her. I’m going to have to force some of this sandwich down or else I’ll be a zombie all afternoon.

  I remove the plastic wrap and stare at it. I close my eyes and take a bite. Yeah, wet bread and cold, stale cheese tastes exactly how I expect it to taste.

  Another screen pops up on my computer. Something about our 401K company matching will be reduced next quarter.

  The whole reason I took this job was for the retirement and health benefits, and it seems like every quarter they are reducing one or the other. Time to dust off the resume.

  I want details. I look at Shari’s message and can’t help but be a little jealous. Okay, a lot. The girl is one of those professional daters and is dining in some of Los Angeles’ finest restaurants at least three times a week. To add insult to injury I saw her sitting front row at the Lakers basketball game last week while I was sitting on my couch trying to toss popcorn up and catch it in my mouth.

  Not only that, the girl was a multi-orgasmic machine. She told me stories that would make the naughty books I read seem like vanilla foreplay.

  Not me. It was hard enough just getting a date, and when I did get a date the guy either wanted to split the check, “Netflix and chill,” or shoot pool in a dark, smoky pool hall in a sketchy part of town.

  To make matters worse their attempts at sex were about as pleasing as their choice of date venues. And by pleasing I mean the exact opposite. No pleasure, and no climax. Never.

  And last night was no exception. Shari had seen me out with Dov. Yes, the guy’s named after a bird. For some crazy reason I thought that might make him gentle and tender, but just like his name, which isn’t even the complete spelling of the bird that his parent’s seemed to admire, he couldn’t complete the job. Not even close.

  A couple licks here, a strange bite there, and a few weak pumps there, and Dov was laying next to me in a sweaty mess. Come to think of it, he was a lot like this soggy, limp sandwich.

  Trying to
forget.

  That bad? I’m sorry sweetie.

  Thanks. I’ll be okay.

  I chew the mess of a meal and realize things are not going to be okay.

  I start clearing my chat windows, replying to as many as I can as I half bite into my food, not sure if I should spit it in the trash and risk someone seeing, or just power through and force it down. I go with the latter, but it’s not easy.

  Did you see the new guy?

  Don’t tell me you’re hunting him already.

  Shari would do just that and she would get him too. Somehow I got the gene for always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, but not her. She can make spreadsheets and math sound sexy. And the men come running. Rich ones, athletes, guys who own helicopters. If he’s super successful and under thirty in L.A. Shari probably knows him, or has been with him. I need to hang around her more often so whatever she’s doing rubs off on me.

  He’s the CFO, and you know what that means?

  I close my eyes and take another bite of my sandwich. I leave my eyes closed the first few chews before opening them when I hear what sounds like an assault of chirps as my screen fills with new messages and replies.

  CFO. You mean Can’t F’ing Orgasm. I’m not greedy. I just want one in this lifetime!

  I chew my sandwich and realize it has suddenly become absolutely quiet. Usually it’s constant chaos comprised of people walking around, someone playing their music just a little too loud, and one of the sales guys from the other room yelling into his phone trying to “get this deal done.” Not now.

  Hmmm? Is there a mandatory company meeting in the conference room or something?

  I see the top of Tom’s head and then his eyes, just over the top of my cubicle wall. His eyes are practically bulging out of his head, before his head sinks back down behind the partition.

  Then Lefty Larry, the left-handed guy who sits in the cubicle to my left does the same.

  That’s odd.

  I look at my screen and notice no more incoming messages. Finally, just give me a few minutes so I can get some of this sandwich eaten.

  I continue chewing. It’s a relief to finally have a moment without constant interruptions.

  My eyes look back up at the screen and my chewing slows. My mouth is moving in slow motion like a giraffe as my eyes dart from chat window to chat window.

  No! No! This can’t be.

  I hear my chewed sandwich splat onto the paperwork in front of me, as it falls from my mouth.

  I didn’t reply to Shari’s chat window. I replied to HR’s chat window announcing our new CFO.

  My hand starts to shake and suddenly I’m on my knees heaving into my trashcan. I’m a wreck.

  Oh my god, I’m going to get fired. I’m never going to get a job again. There’s no way I’ll get a reference or be able to explain this one.

  I stare into the bottom of my trashcan, and I literally feel my mind leave me as my eyes close.

  “Aren’t you going to answer that?” Tom says, his eyes just above the cubicle again.

  I hear his words, but they don’t register.

  “Earth to Amelia, come in. Do you read me? Hello? Amelia!”

  I shake my head quickly and open my eyes. I pull myself from off my knees and look at my phone. It’s the same phone that literally never rings. I don’t even know if it actually works or was just left there from the previous generation.

  I look at the caller ID. Carson Cash, CFO.

  I look at my plant, which I named Robert, sitting on my desk. I could have Robert Plant under my arm, and my purse around my shoulder and be in the elevator in less than sixty seconds. Maybe it’s even sitting on our floor. In that case I’m out of here in under thirty.

  “Answer the damn phone!” Lefty Larry says from the cubicle next to me.

  I extend my hand for the receiver, but stop just short. I can literally see my hand shaking uncontrollably as it approaches the receiver. Scratch that, my entire arm is shaking.

  My thumb and forefinger grasp the phone delicately, like I might break it, even though I know I’m the one who’s about to be broken.

  I slowly bend my elbow, bringing the phone to my ear.

  “Amelia Perkins. Accounts Receivable.”

  “Could you please come by my office?”

  I begin to muster up a reply, but before I can I hear the dial tone. Apparently it wasn’t really a question.

  I hear the phone bang on my desk as it drops from my hand before setting on the ground.

  I look up and see the tops of heads and sets of eyes atop all the cubicles in the big room I work in. It’s like that arcade game Whack-A-Mole, but I’m the mole and I’m about to get whacked.

  CHAPTER 2

  Carson

  They brought me in to cut costs and restructure the company. Well, whoever this Amelia Perkins is just handed me a gift.

  She’ll be the first to go. She made it too easy. I can start with her and the rest will fall like dominos.

  The rest of the office will be so terrified that they’ll be ten times as productive as before. This is going to be way too easy, the easiest restructuring project I’ve ever taken on.

  I can just imagine it now, that poor little thing is walking as slowly as she can to delay the inevitable.

  Come on. How can I feel any sympathy for this girl? What in the hell was she doing sending a message like that? A message the entire company just saw.

  You don’t talk like that in an office environment, and you certainly don’t talk that way to me.

  She’s going to learn her lesson as soon as she walks…through…that…do—…oh!

  She shuts the door behind her and just stands there. She’s trembling. You can see the fear in her entire body from all the way across my office.

  “I’m sorry it took me so long. I didn’t know where your office was.”

  Her voice is cracking, and as much as I want to jump on her and make an example of her, for some reason I just can’t.

  You’re here to do a job, Carson. You’ve done this a million times. It’s not difficult.

  I can see by her simple attire and the way she holds herself that this isn’t the type of girl I expected. I thought I was going to see some slacker who’s wasting company time trying to make jokes, or even someone who wanted to get fired. A severance payment heading into summer, plus collecting those unemployment checks every two weeks while lying at the beach was her strategy, at least that’s what I had her pegged for…a rich girl, who just held a job to keep mommy and daddy happy.

  I was wrong, and I don’t like being wrong.

  This girl looks like she needs the money. She’s shy and introverted. I can clearly see it. But underneath that unpolished exterior is a diamond.

  She looks like the kind of girl who is no-nonsense. She comes to work to get work done, not to compete in an imaginary beauty pageant.

  Her knees are literally trembling. She’s got her hands clasped in front of her, and her meek body posture signifies she knows what’s coming, and she’s not looking forward to it one bit.

  “Have a seat,” I say.

  She turns to the side looking for the couch that doesn’t exist. Damn, what’s wrong with me? I’m asking her to sit in furniture that hasn’t been brought to my office yet.

  She bends down in such a feminine way and places her hand on the floor.

  No you don’t!

  “Wait!” I say, darting up from my desk and moving to her side.

  I offer her my hand, which she just looks at. I’m staring down into her eyes. They’re a beautiful shade of light brown. I’ve never seen eyes that color before, and I notice there seems to be little gold specs just outside her pupils.

  She looks up at me, like a little mouse. Something inside me wants to protect her, but from what? I’m the lion that’s about to chew her up and spit her out. I can’t protect her from myself.

  She reaches out her hand slowly, placing it in mine.

  I feel her hand, every groove of h
er fingerprints as her fingertips rest in my palm. I pause for a moment, feeling the sensation move through me. I grasp her hand and help her from her position. She was about to sit on the floor. I feel like a fool.

  “Please, allow me,” I say, moving towards my desk, before realizing I haven’t let go of her hand.

  “Sorry,” I say, releasing my grip and immediately feeling the void of not having her hand in mine. I’m thrown off, and I don’t like it. I’ve never met a woman like this, but then again she’s not a woman. She’s a girl. She can’t be much more than a teenager. How in the world did she get a job here? Her own merit?