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

I’m tired after my workout, meal, and hot bath yet I know I won’t be able to sleep. I’ve never been a good sleeper, not since childhood, as far as I can remember anyway. I have vivid dreams that make no sense, full of darkness and anxiety that leave me ravaged upon awakening. Working out before bed helps but doesn’t eradicate them and I’ve learned to live on the erratic, fretful sleep I do get. I still wish I could sleep like a normal person but I know that I may never lose the night terrors; my mind just can’t let go of the past no matter how hard I try to move on.

My cell vibrates, I jump with a small surprise noting it’s a text from Margo. I’ve been waiting for my job to infringe on me outside of regular working hours; I know they’ve been going easy on me so early into the promotion. I wonder if this is the start of full on PA mode.

Emma. I need you in an hour early tomorrow, you’ll be paid overtime. There will be a car for you, so you won’t be late. You’re meeting Donna Moore. x

That’s fine, Margo. Thank you. I reply instantly, uneasily.

This side of the job is new to me; Working early/late and specific outfits— the executives I handled on the lower floors weren’t as important, I suppose. I’m aware that working directly for a Carrero is a whole different ball game and in a way, I’m eager to start properly. I need a new challenge as things on the tenth floor had become stale and predictable.

* * *

The car arrives bright and early next morning, a black four by four; a typical Carrero choice and the driver is dressed in a black suit similar to the security who had been in Jake’s office. Their appearance makes me roll my eyes; aware the guy just loves all things black. I have since learned the guard that day was Arrick Carrero’s personal bodyguard; Jake doesn’t seem to require such things apparently.

Dressed in cream slacks and a dusky pink, silk blouse; a present from my mother for my birthday which isn’t until next week, but she mailed them early to be sure I got them. I don’t celebrate my birthday and Sarah knows not to even mention it when it comes around. I was surprised by my mother’s gift as she doesn’t normally bother, but for some reason, she did this time. I felt too guilty not to wear them.

They’re not as crisp and tailored as my usual attire but still passable and I’m obliged to put them on at least once as I know how expensive they must have been. I hate that she felt the need to buy me things like this. Motherly guilt of some sort no doubt. It’s her style, not mine, but she has tried.

My mother is an eternal hippy; romantic frivolity is more her forte and part of her appeal to men. Even in her forties, she’s still attractive and men find her desirable although the less I think about my mother’s taste in men the better. I shake away that memory, pushing down the revulsion in my stomach.

at the familiar building; it’s gray and wet this morning and there’s a cold

early hour. Shivering, I pull my wool coat further

Donna Moore the personal shopper and informs me I’m to

sex appeal from an early age using him as the front man for their range of high-end grooming products and aftershaves, which means a never-ending media interest. The boy is basically a super model for his own company. Still New York’s poster boy, even now, he can’t seem to move without a

wear, colors I like, and such. She pulls out her cell and snaps a few pictures of me from all angles. Unhappy with the images, she fusses at me to untie my hair. I hold my patience and irritation in check and follow her instructions. I’ll never get it back in its sleek style without a lot of

enduring it around my face and having everyone croon about it.

beautiful coloring and bone structure, and how you look with your masses of soft hair.” She smiles at me, eyes dazzling like a kid at Christmas. I’ve no idea why that’s a

me, eyeing me up and swooping in

me with a warm expression and keen eye which adds another layer of

I want them both to back off

in the office uniform manual does it say—have your hair tied up like a school mistress.” The two women giggle rather surprisingly, killing the whole aura

attention to image.” The heat

You’ve such a lovely color of hair, like pale

and brown

you look so much more natural and pretty like this. I think Jake agreed yesterday.” Margo says a twinkle in her eye. A

scowl, sarcasm light, meeting with amused looks. Ignoring the warm sensation deep in

your pout … You’re adorable,” Donna gushes and I sigh, realizing arguing is a lost cause. Donna is grinning at me in a mother hen kind of a way and it’s the first

that’s ironic, considering how I look, but you’re young and pretty. You’ve a natural beauty that you