Monday : 3rd Jan
"It's mine! I can do this, I can grab this deal even while drunk !"
"It's what I always do."
"No one can stop me!"
I keep on murmuring these self-morale boosters as I pull over my blazer and look at myself in the mirror. This has been my routine before any big meeting. Descending down the stairs, I see Mrs. Jones setting up breakfast for me. She has been with us since before my birth.
I never dared to live on my own. Infact, I have never left my home. The beauty and warmth of my home give me much necessary peace.
When I was studying at CalTech for BS degree, I never stayed in the dorms. The fact that I had to share a room or use Public Toilets contributed to this decision. Instead, I found a forty five minute drive as a better option.
My friends were fed up with my extreme hygiene issues. My mom did too but she has given up any hope on me in this regard. As she had predicted earlier, I could never adjust or share rooms with anyone. Maybe that contributed to the fact that I never had a boyfriend my entire twenty seven years of existence.
Sometimes, I wonder if I had one, he probably had left me within a couple of days. Even though I don't want to die a virgin, thinking about all the unhygienic habits of the guy whose dick I am going to have inside me just turns me off.
I am quite content with my eroticas, imaginations, Netflix, "female-orientated porn" and my fingers. I can make myself cum with my little gifted fingers. Mere thought of having a dildo or vibrator and getting caught by any of my family members or Mrs. Jones makes me feel super embarrassed. I am not comfortable with sharing my inner most desires and sexual behaviours with anyone. I know I sound like someone from ancient times but that's me and I can't change.
Period.
I am just an extremely picky girl and my never ending criteria without any compromise are guilty of my NIL score in terms of having boyfriends and sex. Not to mention that I always fall for the guys who either straight away reject me, are already committed or love/like someone else. Now-a-days, Netflix and book boyfriends have elevated my expectations !! So silly and unrealistic of me. Uff.
Ahh, how can other girls get what they want but I never ever did ?!
Plus, I am afraid of using dating apps. Call me paranoid, but I think those dating apps will steal my pictures and put it in porn sites where some day I will find my pictures telling me 'there are plenty easy women waiting to get fucked in my area.' God those horrible ads !
Also, what if I find a stalker in those dating apps like Joe Goldberg. Definitely don't want to bring more problems into my life right now.
Sighing, I force myself to stop thinking about all that. It is way too early to go down that lane. Plus, I don't have the time. After a little chit-chat with Mrs. Jones, I drive to my office.
I am one of the early birds in the conference room. People usually maintain distance from me. I am not the chirpy ones who straight up started conversation smoothly. It is simply not in my nature to capture their attention. Plus, I am known to be edgy, given my track records.
Everyone in this entire building has knowledge of my infamous outbursts, the misunderstandings with my father, the epic slap and humiliation in one of the annual corporate parties. Those wounds are still fresh, even after two years.
"Ok, STOP ! I am not gonna think about them. FOCUS !!!" I scold myself.
I sit down and start checking my details, AGAIN. I don't know but somewhere on the internet said that this habit and my hygiene issues are all part of mild OCD.
Maybe I have that.
Only God knows what the actual case is.
This contract is like a cake-walk for me. I just have to impress the board members of our company, McLaren Corporation, so that I can keep my CEO position for infinity and beyond (there's a strong possibility of such a thing happening!).
After passing out from CalTech, I worked hard to get into the managerial positions without an MBA degree. Within 1.5 years, I got promoted to the COO position. And after 6 months, I became CEO and remained as such for the past 3 years.
The company was built by my great grandfathers and I was the fourth generation in the lineage to get the position. My dad, David McLaren had been occupying this before I took over. The board members wanted my brother to have it from my dad but my family was egalitarian enough to give all of us a chance to prove ourself.
"By all" I mean my elder brother, Daniel, my twin, Charlotte, my younger brother, Dylan and his twin sister, Kaitlyn. My mom, Evelyn Clark fought her way up the corporate ladder, emerged as a strong asset, became the first and only COO of our company without being a McLaren. She and dad met in high school, joined the same colleges, afterwards the McLaren Corporation together and took it to new heights. They are born to be together and are blessed with 5 kids, one of which turned out to be an absolute disgrace for the McLaren clan apart from the business perspective.
Sometimes, I wonder if I will ever have such a sweet story of my life. My brain reminds me of my reality, how I have a rat's ass chance of getting such a thing to happen to me.
Slowly, our board members, higher level executives, CEOs, COOs, CFOs of our competitor companies start filling in the conference room. My family is yet to return and I am completely responsible for my company, given we are the ones capable of drawing in the folks from Middle-East to sign this deal with Global industrial groups.
Whoever cracks this one, gets to take the dealership for all trade activities in the Middle East comprising Qatar, UAE, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia amongst others and become the only point of contact for each and every activity, deal, transaction and every single thing, thereby earning extravagant commissions worth billions.
In short, they will get to make money as per their wish out of this deal. There is no error margin here.
I look at the execs from other corporations. I had researched about them last night and prepared how to deal in case anyone thinks of snatching it from my hands. Just as the meeting is about to start, the door opens and someone enters whom I never expected.
I catch a pair of Hazel eyes looking straight into my soul. They look beautiful with the specks of wall lights gleaming in them.
What the actual hell is Michele FUCKING de Roccella doing here?!
---
Its pronounced : Mik·khe·le de Roccella
Hi ! Its me again ! 👋
What do you think of our charming hunk! I want you to picture him as our swoon-worthy Miki for the entirety of this story. Also, what are your opinions about Evolet's paranoid thoughts over dating, dating apps and men based on her expectations ?
Looking forward to your thoughts!
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Thanks & Stay Safe ! 🤞❤️