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

That’s true. See, he’s a good shrink … he seems to understand.

“What’s wrong with me?”

That’s a good question to ask a shrink, as I want to know.

His face appears above me and I jump a little in fright; I wasn’t expecting him so suddenly, maybe it wasn’t sudden. I have been taking long pauses to daydream between replies. This is a weird angle, but even down here he looks gorgeous.

Why can’t you look ugly from at least one angle, Carrero? Even the odds up a little. Maybe have a double chin or something.

“Nothing … You deserve so much more than someone like him.” He seems serious, and just hot. Too hot.

“I’m part of him … I have his blood … But he didn’t want to know me.” I sigh dejectedly as he moves from above me and on to the couch beside me; he has a glass which clinks with ice and slides it on the low table to my left. He sits near my head so he can look down at my face and he’s no longer smiling. He seems blank.

“Does he want to know you now? Is that why he called?” he frowns once more, watching me pensively.

“He wants money.” I point out as a matter of fact.

Yes, as much as he can lay his grubby little hands on. Filthy, scum bag, gold digger.

“Money?” he pauses to watch me. His tone that of surprise.

“He thinks I’m loaded, because I’m always in the papers … with you … Probably thinks we’re in love.” I laugh at this little fact, but Jake doesn’t laugh, he just goes on watching me and sips from his own mug before looking lost in thought. I can smell coffee and guess he’s not drunk at all.

“Why are you chewing your lip like that?” I ask him, reaching up and prodding him gently in the dimple again. Jake has a touchable face. I’ve never noticed before how much his face cries out to be touched; there’s a beauty about his features, even his designer stubble, that makes your fingers itch to trace the lines and curves. He has a dimple on each side that should be investigated.

“I’m thinking, Emma … stop poking me in the face, woman,” he chides with a frown and I push at it a little harder with my pointer finger, irritated at him calling me “woman”.

Asshole!

you?” he catches my finger and pushes it down. He has

Mr. Hands-On, Carrero!

lay still to see if it will pass. I lay watching his green eyes in the dim light and wonder what he’s thinking about. Mesmerized by the way his eyes change with his moods. Sometimes they’re dark and almost brown, other times pale and almost aqua. Normally, they’re a very bright, almost emerald green. When I love them

still see the hint of a frown; I stifle the urge to poke

in a mock deep

he’s my boss! I think we get on better

little sense, and your grabby hands are a little distracting. I

he

feel of a beautiful thing. He sighs, pushing me to note he’s closer, leaning down to peer at my face as if he’s trying to gauge just how drunk I still am. I have the urge to

at my own joke. It’s rather

… Crone

smiles, sighing deeply as though he has no idea what to do with me anymore. I notice that when he moves his jaw in any little way, his ear moves slightly and become fascinated by it. I wonder

you call it a talent? Ear wiggling …

I giggle again.

my plastered PA” kind of way. I reach

Damn, he’s quick.

I sound

because Cartier is one of his favorite places to spend huge amounts of

laugh, when he smiles naturally like that it makes me want to smile too.

lick that smile, it’s so delicious. I want to taste

you’re going to have to go to bed. As much fun as you are drunk, I think I’ll get more sense out of you over breakfast.” He

want to sleep” I pout,

going to bed. I have a duty

I’m pretty sure it’s making a comeback. I try and swat his face and hands as he reaches to

fingers through his styled hairdo, messing it up. I think he’s frustrated with me, but I