The Carrero Effect - Falling for the Boss (Billionaire CEO)

He pats the sofa next to him suggestively, a cheeky Carrero glint in his eye but I continue with my notes refusing to make eye contact.

“I think not, Mr. Carrero.” Sighing inwardly at the man I have to deal with every day; he’s never dull anyway.

“Your loss.” He closes his eyes again. We pause as we hear voices in the room next to us, faint and distant, that quickly evaporate as the intruders leave again. Both of us silent and still.

“You’ve a meeting in about fifteen minutes, I’m sure half those suits are going to be in it.” I point out, sounding unamused and bored.

“I’ll just imply I was busy elsewhere.” He shrugs, refusing to open those eyes and managing to look crazily attractive in this pose. I sigh.

“Busy doing what?”

“Busy in a cupboard with my PA, trying out the softness of the couch.” He smirks, opening one eye and then the other slowly, to grin at me.

“I’m not having you imply we were up to no good somewhere in this building. Do you know how quickly that would get around the temp pool?” I respond calmly; this is a repetitive conversation which only makes me sigh again. Only I would be lumbered with a boss as trying as this, who loves nothing more than to stress me out. The sexual innuendos never run out with him or the jokes about implicating us.

“We are up to no good, may as well get on the couch and make it worth your while. I’m sure I could help un-wrinkle that skirt.” I roll my eyes; he’s in his playful mood. I probably won’t get much work done this afternoon at all when he is like this. He’s trying at the best of times, but worse in playful mode. I check my watch in irritation, we should get out of here.

“In your dreams,” I respond drily, trying my hardest to ignore him.

“Always.” He throws me a quick eyebrow lift, a cheeky smile. I remain impassive. He’s tiresome and we have a meeting we should already be arriving at. Needless to say, he no longer intimidates me, and his overly familiar behavior is a sign that we have grown somewhat closer in the past weeks. He stopped behaving quite so properly a while ago and I gave up objecting because he is simply too exhausting.

He’s watching me as I smooth a stray hair back into my French knot, aware that his eyes are on me. I raise mine in question. Throwing him my haughty look. My silent, “What?”

now, a strange look on

sort my jacket out. He really did a number on making me look rumpled this

you.” He’s grinning again and eerily reading

a reservation next week and pull up a new email I received. It’s finance asking for the spreadsheets we finished this morning. Rosalie is obviously having no fun

it’s safe to leave the closet with you now, Mr. Carrero.” I close

Carrero, are we? Have I made you pout, Miss.

title when he pisses me

haul me

think you need the boundaries redefined, seeing as you just manhandled me into

This annoys me immensely. I hate that he always manages to make me cave, even when he’s pissed me off. He’s incorrigible and exhausting. I don’t know why I endure this

door impatiently

for a bit and watch you walk out.” He turns, getting comfy again to watch me move. A look of wickedness gracing his face

I smile sweetly, upper hand as always. He couldn’t run things quite so well without me. “Reason being sexual harassment … … Again!” I raise my

You would miss my sexual harassment.” The laugh in his voice indicates he is

Ass.

raise an eyebrow back at him and turn away as though I’m serious and fight the urge to smirk. He has a way of getting under my skin even when being juvenile.

notice that his office door is ajar, and I head out to peek around seeing everything is clear. A small walk to my old desk and I can check most of the floor is vacant, with only the regular secretaries milling around and paying no heed to me. I pull out my cell and

closet from his father. Sometimes he acts like a two-year-old not New York’s most

he knows how much his fussing my hair annoys me, yet it’s something he does several times a day for a reaction. I smooth it back in place and curse under my breath at his

* * *

go at it like raging bulls as I stand outside, observing the many eyes watching them through the glass. I stand with my back to them, iPad in hand as I reply to emails and I can hear them arguing in Italian so that no one else can understand what