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

I pick up my fork, starting to eat again now that my temper has improved along with my appetite. Feeling light and merry now, and ravenous once more.

“I like you when you’re like this.” He nods over at me, a happy expression on his face, eyes almost twinkling.

“Like what?” I look up innocently, the steak is so tender that I’m now savoring every mouthful. Appetite fully restored.

“More relaxed. PA mode on hiatus. When you forget to play cool.” It sobers me slightly, he has a way of making me forget myself when we are kicking back and much like now, it startles me. I don’t like letting that mask drop, I don’t like people seeing too deeply. Especially not him.

“It’s hard to focus when you ply me with alcohol,” I return a little too quickly, trying to reel in my controlled facade once again, pushing the glass away from my plate.

That’s enough wine.

“Maybe that’s why I do it.” He smiles softly, but it makes me suddenly uncomfortable. I ram food into my mouth and stare across the restaurant, looking for a diverting topic.

I gesture toward the far window with my fork, and he turns to look at what I’m pointing at spotting the movie star too, he looks back at me shrugging.

“He’s an asshole … I’ve met him. He’s a bit of a diva, and I mean look at him; he’s wearing a god-damn flower brooch … If that doesn’t scream closet gay, then I don’t know what does.” He shrugs nonchalantly, but for some reason this makes me laugh unexpectedly and causes me to choke on my half-chewed steak. I erupt into a coughing fit which has me grabbing for my wine, in an effort to dislodge the lump in my throat before I die.

“Jesus, Emma, don’t have a coronary over seeing some asshole Hollywood big shot.” He’s laughing at me now and I throw him a pained look. I gasp for air, thumping my chest to push my steak down and inhaling heavily.

“Fuck you.” I manage weakly, with a smile.

“Swearing at your boss is good grounds for dismissal … gross misconduct.” He jokes and tops up my glass again with a wink, highlighting the fact I just drank it all without meaning to.

“So, fire me.” I throw back, slugging down my red wine and finally clearing the food that is still caught in my throat and intent on half killing me. Not caring about intake while choking.

before he chucks his fork down on his plate, also finished with his food.

too much wine, feeling a little tipsy now and I need to get out of here.

my napkin on the empty plate. I take it without hesitation and let him pull me with him, then immediately wonder when

me

become something as familiar as being around him now. Maybe it is just the nature of our

sex, the best friend comments, and wife vibes are frequent, but I know it is all play. Jake is never anything but a complete gentleman, well, minus the man handling, but even that is not so bad. I’ve never had a platonic relationship with men of any age, and it

* * *

of my assistant, Rosalie’s, lingering presence; it feels like I don’t get a second to

shedding clothes. He’s now sitting with his shirt pulled out, unbuttoned at the collar and his sleeves rolled up. His normally styled hair is ruffled, messy, and his tie and jacket are strewn across his couch. His shoes are lying in the middle of the floor, a sure

his shoes to under the edge of his desk with the toes of my stilettos. I move all the papers from the left side he’s been through and pile them neatly into an open box file, before laying out some stapled contracts he needs to sign to send down to legal. He smiles up at me briefly, leaning back so

scoop them up to take them. We have gelled this way for a while now, anticipating each other’s movements silently, and wordlessly working around one

on the cell,

“Yes?”

for tomorrow, early as you can. We’ll need hotel rooms for the next five days and a car.” He moves his cell into his neck

his title when we’re in front

Another trip!

London that long, and Jake was right; hotels no longer did it for me, even five-star suites. It’s just another few days getting tired from jet-lag and a week of grueling work with men in suits who look at me like I am

* * *

times with files, coffee, and whatever else he asks of me. I’m not needed right now, so

as he looks. My laptop is keeping my focus; if this meeting runs over any longer then it’s going to be a late night and we have flights to catch in

his face, I wonder what he’s up to. A second later my own cell buzzes and I pick it up, seeing

Carrero has sent you

confused, I open the email and find he has gifted me a