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

Within a moment all of them are in his office, past Margo’s inner door, and it’s closed. I take a deep breath of relief and try again to type this document out, meeting with my usual success. Quick and swift skill with a keyboard now that I have no visual distractions.

It seems like an eternity has passed when my switchboard lights up, and the distant voice of Margot interrupts my concentration. I was unaware I’d been semi holding my breath until that second and give myself another stern inner shake.

“Emma, please come into Mr. Carrero’s office. Thank you.” The voice sounds distant and tinny on the remarkably high-tech machine.

“Yes, Mrs. Drake.” I flinch at my use of her full name, knowing she asked me to call her Margo. I mentally scold myself to not repeat the mistake.

I don’t make mistakes. Ever.

I slide up, smoothing down my clothes and putting my jacket back on quickly. Buttoning it up nervously as I walk the small distance to her door which blocks entrance to his.

It takes all my willpower to walk into the office, and all of my acting ability, dredged up from somewhere deep, to pull off the undaunted calm demeanor that I try to present at all times. My stomach-turning somersaults, and my throat drying up. I don’t know why I’m having so much trouble with it today.

“Ah, Emma, here you are.” Margo meets me as I pull open the heavy wooden door and slide in. Suddenly conscious of how short I am, even in my spike heels, next to her swan like body. She stands tall for a woman and I stand at around five feet four.

“Jake, this is Emma Anderson. She’s your new assistant in training. Your new number two.” She smiles fondly at me and gestures me to come to her. I move beside her and get the gentle familiar pat on my shoulder as she tries to put me at ease.

I blink a few times, pausing at the use of the name Jake.

Am I missing something here?

It dawns on me he prefers the name Jake. Brain clicking with memories from my research. He corrected many interviewers and I remember he likes the informality and encourages using his first name; shortened first name.

out of his seat. This is what I’ve been afraid of! My reaction when faced with someone I find attractive, and it’s completely new

notice the others in the room as he effortlessly glides up and toward me. He has the walk of someone who’s never doubted his own confidence or abilities. Someone who knew from early

above me as he approaches, putting him over the six-foot mark easily. Wearing all black; shirt and suit, minus a tie and top buttons open. The overall effect makes me breathless. He’s beyond underwear model hot, he’s like some female

Jeeze.

of the way my heart quickens, and my breath

react this way. It’s alien to me and has me shifting on my

feeble. I’m so pathetic

cuts in; those green eyes taking me in, leaving me no clue to

more extensively in time, to step in fully when she retires. I guess that means we should get better acquainted on a first name basis.” He throws me a charming, soft smile, and I’m not immune to the effect. It’s a gesture that hints that he knows exactly

over women is it,

and I’m starting to feel clammy. Anxious

still, Emma …

voice this time and I’m relieved. If anything, my years of poise

women going all weak-kneed and pie-eyed at his presence and it interests him that I don’t appear to be. I’m glad he can’t see my internal reactions, as they are behaving disgustingly right

the expensive clothing. I know from photographs he prefers more casual attire than suits and ties most of the time. He’s sexually intimidating and so far

me like honey, and my mouth dries up fully. I’m blushing, heat emanating from my roots and scowl at my inner-adolescent self. He removes his hand and walks away from me to his desk with

to get the moisture back into my parched mouth and keep my eyes off his ass. A drink would be good right now, if only to release

watching me with a strange look in her eye, and I realize it’s a touch of uncertainty. Mr. Carrero moves off to a bar at the rear of the room, to the side of his desk, with

Shit!

for Mr. Carrero. Another woman

wrinkles in my clothes and straighten my body up, trying to get back my professional air and grace. I hate that I’ve shown signs of being rattled. I don’t normally break under so