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

Why are her parents not looking for her? How long has she been here? She is too young and vulnerable to be alone.

“Yes … I came home from school … she wasn’t conscious at the time, but she came around when the ambulance got here. I think it looks worse than it is. Maybe a broken arm … ribs … her face is a mess.” She drops her gaze to her hands the whole time she talks, and I note that they’re trembling. I think the girl may be in minor shock, even still, feeling instant compassion for her. This is not her burden to bear.

“The man was gone I take it?” I try a different approach.

“She was alone, I have a key, so I let myself in.” I see it fully this time, the slight waver in her lip, the darting of her eye. She’s hiding the fact that she knows who did this. She doesn’t know me, and I know from experience she will never tell me unless I gain her trust.

“Do you want to come to the hospital with me in the morning?” I ask, sipping my coffee and watching her, remaining calm and steady. She moves in her seat uneasily and nods.

“Go to bed, Sophie. I’ll get you up in the morning for breakfast.” I smile warmly at her as the look of confusion spreads across her face. I want this girl to know I only have her best interests at heart, that I’m nothing like my mother. She uses people like Sophie as a balm; self-gratification in helping people in need.

“I normally do breakfast and get your mother up.” She blushes as though she’s said something wrong and the anger simmers deep down inside me. Sizzling with fire.

Of course, she’s living my old life. Being the caretaker, the cook, the cleaner, the mature responsible one while my mother is the eternal victim. Nothing changes.

“Not while I’m here, Sophie … You get to be the kid for a few days.” I want to ask her about her life, why she’s even here, how she ended up in the homeless shelter—meeting my mother, but I know it’s late. I’ll have time to talk to this girl, save her from a life she doesn’t need with a woman who can barely look after herself, let alone a teen. I won’t let Sophie have the childhood with my mother that I endured. That much I can promise. This ends here.

* * *

After I’ve cleaned up our mugs and straightened the kitchen a little, I head to my mother’s room pulling out my cell to call Jake while sprawling across the comforter.

He answers immediately, glad that I’m here and that I sound okay. I’ve nothing much to tell him, simply happy to hear his voice. I tell him that I won’t see my mother until tomorrow and don’t want to talk about her tonight.

about how much he’s pining in my absence and being silly. My usual cheeky

but Jake ignores him. “I could hop a plane and keep you

on his birthday bash.” I object but sigh at

occupied. This one has even bigger breasts than the last. I swear he’s going to die from implant suffocation one of these days.” Again, Daniel’s voice as he reacts to what Jake is saying but it’s not clear. Jake muffles a reply to him with a jibe and then a laugh

Men!

Jake’s joke, trying to picture Daniel with another brainless bimbo. He seems to choose girls who wear underwear as day wear and have a

from my eyes, smiling like

sounds like he’s moving around, and I recognize the noise of jangling keys. My mood dying because I know

to go out with him now?” I probe, wishing he was here. That heavy feeling

if you say the word. One little word, Ems and I’m on a plane to windy

off ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach while hating myself for refusing

pleading edge is so far

my mother and I don’t want this life to touch on the one I have now.” I try to explain, hoping he won’t get

just have to get smashed out of my head and drunk call you in the early hours then, Miele. Better get prepared for it.” He chuckles softly, and I just shake my

kinky things you get up to on

and show you some of the weird

break in laughing fully, relieved at his inuendo on

of that smirk in his voice. Back

trying.” I point out with a raised brow. “I need

you, but I ain’t making no promises. For some reason, your cute little face comes into my head when I want to have 4.00 a.m. drunken chats about the weather, cats, and weird fetishes.” He laughs, a deep, hearty, tumbling noise that only highlights how far