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

“I’m going for a run … I’ll pack when I get back.” He makes to move away, but falters, reaching out, he shoves my shoulder so that my laptop slips slightly. I snap my chin up to look at him, surprised, and identify the wariness and the glint of playful. He’s trying to make amends; he’s trying to smooth it over and get back to yesterday too. I relax with a sigh; there’s my Jake, back to being adolescent, trying to make me smile and it’s working. Our stupid juvenile way.

“I’m suing you for sexual harassment.” I chuckle shyly. Making light of it all, hopeful that it’ll work. My heart still beating fast, wanting to just let this go.

“I’ll blame Jack Daniels for my misdemeanors. I was in no way in control of my faculties last night.” He smiles, filled with relief, the tension between us evaporates and he ruffles my hair in his irritating manner.

“Go away and have your run. Stop annoying me.” I mock pout and smile to myself as he wanders off, giving me a backward glance and a cheeky grin.

We’re okay. It’s done …

Back to how we were. Like it never happened.

* * *

I drop my pen several times and catch him frowning at me several more, alerting me to the fact I’m twisting my hair absent-mindedly.

When the hell did that habit return? That crap stopped months ago when I relaxed with my new boss.

I’ve been so antsy and jumpy on this flight; I think it’s the lack of sleep. It’s a six-hour flight, give or take, and so far, I’ve spent most of it rereading the same document in front of me. My focus is shot so I slide the laptop closed and check my cell for the twentieth time.

Jake’s now asleep in his seat, with headphones on, listening to his playlist before he dropped off. I smile as I recognize a song with the lyrics “Cry Baby” playing quietly even from here. Our passing of jokes song.

he’s still only in his twenties. I know he’s older than me, but still, it’s only by two years at the most. Everything he handles, things he’s capable of. I

will always be this way. Cool and relaxed like his mother.

him breathe, watching him lay motionless; fully trusting his staff to fly us home. I’ve rarely slept on any of the flights at all. I’m not a good flyer; something he teases me about it endlessly. Edgy and tense until we land as having to put my life in someone else’s hands doesn’t sit well

and watch parts of a movie that doesn’t really capture my attention for an hour. I know I keep adjusting my position and I pick up my

with heavy lids, all boyish yet handsome at the same time. My heart melts a little at that

respond lightly. He looks comfortable, still resting in the position he’s slept in, but his green eyes focus lazily on me across the

I smile so it barely

returns the same gesture, and I start frowning with the ghost

“What?” suspicion rising internally.

his head back in its previous position and closes

on a yacht in the Caribbean … And you don’t get to say

***

sitting room, and a half empty bottle of wine and two glasses on the table. I sigh, bristling inside and ponder showing up at Jake’s apartment for the night as he offered. I should have stopped over, instead

my room and dump my luggage by the bed, glad to be home, yet at the same time the familiar pang of missing Jake

meant a long few weeks of barely, rarely, being separated and I guess it’s why I feel it more now than ever. I haul open my suitcase and discard some of the dirty laundry into the hamper, plug

name, lighting the screen. I pick

Carrero has gifted you an

open the screen without hesitation and

you “Bryan Adams” – “When You’re

looking for an appropriate title while listening to the song he’s sent me. So very Jake, with his love of crooning rock stars. Despite the love lyrics most of the song mirrors how I feel so