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

I get up with renewed vigor the next morning. I’ve slept better than I have for days and somehow, I‘m more able to cope. I eat, wave Sarah off to work and tell her I have a day off to get ready for the dance. It’s not a complete lie as I intend to get ready in grand fashion, going to lengths I’ve never bothered with before. Wilma is right, a good dress and a girly night with Leila will help. I intend to follow Leila’s example. Something she taught me on the yacht was pampering is an enjoyable girly pursuit and can almost fool you into believing you don’t have a broken heart. She also told me that a good night with a girlfriend can change your whole outlook on life.

I manage to book an appointment at a beauty salon for just after noon and I’m having the works. Nails, hair, waxing, make-up. I have a room full of people to impress, who have seen nothing but gaunt and lifeless Emma for weeks. Senior Carrero will be there, and I want to regain some of my pride in front of him. This dance means so much more than a night of fun for me, it’s a chance to save face and present my old self again. Emma reborn as who she used to be.

I spend the morning trying on dresses and finally settle on a floor length, red, slinky dress. It has a low cut back, corseted front and no straps. It clings to every curve and falls in a pool of fabric on the floor. It’s one Donna chose for an elegant banquet we never attended weeks ago, at his request, seeing as she’s his personal shopper and shops for anything he needs on demand. Jake’s Armani tux was sent back but this was mine. Jake never expected me to return anything that was bought for me, always generous to a fault. I find the shoes to match in the pile of unopened boxes in my bathroom. She’s gone for Hollywood glam, vintage red heels in matching satin to the dress. Jake always said red suited me and I hope he’s right. It’s a color I’ve only worn once … at his pushing on that damn boat.

I make my appointment with time to spare, feeling nervier than I should since this is something I’ve rarely done in my life. Leila was my first proper experience with salons and beauty treatments. So, I’m glad when they don’t keep me waiting for the full glam treatment, starting with a hair trim and highlight retouch. I want my hair back to how it was the first day I cut it. It’s grown so much and tickles my shoulders a lot. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I know I’m thinking about Jake’s reaction, the first time he saw my hair and deep down I want him to see me that way again.

Don’t go there. Tonight, is neither about him nor for him. It’s about moving forward.

* * *

Standing at the mirror in my bedroom, nauseous with anticipation. I look every bit red-carpet ready; it even wows me, and I wish Sarah was home to see. I look, for the first time in my life, elegant and dare I say, a little bit beautiful. They’ve given me subtle nineteen-fifties make-up with a nude lipstick and winged eyeliner. My skin is flawless, my cheeks blushed and high, my nails a natural French manicure, so clean and polished. My hair is left down in its natural waves. It’s shorter again and brushed to one side and I look seductive. I can’t believe the girl in front of me is my own reflection. The dress sculpted to a body I’m rather proud of and I stand elegantly in my heels.

A tremble of nerves courses through me, anticipation, and dread in equal amounts. I know tonight is either going to be wonderful, or disastrous. I just hope that it won’t be the latter. I know Leila can get me through this and I need to see her so badly.

I grasp my silver clutch and pull on the silver fur stole that Donna chose for another outfit, but it looks good. I’ve booked a cab and it’ll be here any minute. I feel sick to my stomach; my hands are shaking badly when I slide the ticket into my bag with my cell and cash. I steel down my nerves and head out to wait for my ride in the cool evening air.

a new me. Be brave. Take a deep breath, and smile.

* * *

any I’ve been to with Jake before, complete with a red-carpet entrance, flashing cameras, and tuxedo wearing security. I pass easily with my ticket, getting slight interest from photographers as they try to decide if I’m a celebrity or not, a few flashes just in case. I’m a little proud but I keep my chin down and walk inside. Leila knows I’m coming, her text said she’d find

and invading and the noisy bustle of chatter and scraping chairs, chinking glasses is almost overpowering. It’s been going on

cards at the plates for the main meal. I refer to the huge easels in the corner, holding large printed seating plans, and pale as I locate my name among the guests. I’m still seated at the Carrero table next to Jake,

happen. No one would’ve informed them of a seating change

all bravado, blood running cold, turning, I panic, and rush off toward the

up more than an hour of the night. I can’t sit beside him sipping wine and

the hell was Margo

can’t breathe, I need to go. Go home and forget all of this. All my confidence is gone, and a sickening feeling is rising inside of me, urging on the breathlessness of an anxiety attack. My face heats as color creeps up my skin and I desperately push my way across the overcrowded floor, rushing to find my escape through the crowds haphazardly. I feel like an idiot and start

text Leila and tell

bustling walkways. I push on, rage and emotion spiraling inside of me and I’m not looking where

formal wear and

Shit!

two feet