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.

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

I’m on the sixty-fifth floor; the building is eerily quiet due to the early hour. Shivering, I pull my wool coat further around my shoulders to try to warm up although

in expensive clothes and an air of seductiveness. Tall graceful and dressed all in red, Margo introduces her as Donna Moore the personal shopper and informs me I’m to be measured. Mr. Carrero insists that his closest staff receive this perk as his public image often sees him on red carpets and at the center of

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

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

goes another day enduring it around my face and having

my file, darling … So I remember your beautiful coloring and bone structure, and how you look with your masses of soft hair.” She smiles at me,

at me, eyeing me up and

it softens your whole face.” She regards me with a warm

both to back off and stop scrutinizing

hair tied up like a school mistress.” The two women giggle rather surprisingly,

that requires a certain attention to image.” The heat in my cheeks rises with irritation, at the giggling, and the fuss over

a lovely color of hair, like pale autumn leaves.” Donna

of moldy sodden black and brown splodged leaves on the New York

pretty like this. I think

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

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 time I notice the lines around her eyes, giving away a slight hint to her

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