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

“Emma! My little girl.” She releases Sophie’s hand and reaches out to me, her other one bound in a cast and strapped to her chest. I hesitate, straighten my tailored pants, and blouse and walk toward her dutifully, bracing myself so that I stay calm and in control.

“Mother.” I take her hand; it’s cold and smooth but feels like skin and bone and it angers me. She’s obviously not eating properly again, so caught up in another affair of the heart, bogged down with infatuation. She was always good at ignoring her own basic needs when wrapped up in another unhealthy relationship.

“It’s so good to see you … You came home to Chicago for me!” her voice is soft and injured causing the reaction to catch in my throat. Guilt, tears, anger, a chaos of emotions, and I can’t look at her in the face, already uncomfortable holding her hand. I glare out the side window over the buildings in Chicago and the dull weather outside, trying to remain impassive. Trying to steel against all that she makes me feel. I want her to cut the crap with the over sentimental greeting, it’s obviously purely for Sophie’s benefit.

“What have you told the police?” I smart. I don’t want to do this tear-jerking deep conversation crap with her. I just want to make sure she’s okay, that she’s healing, then I want to get the hell out of this place. As soon as earthly possible.

“Emma, please? You know it’s never that straightforward,” she whines, and I bristle and drop her hand coldly. My face snapping around to lock eyes with her in impulsive rage. Same old familiar conversation.

“You’re kidding me, right?” I snort in disbelief, spinning my body around to match my glare.

“You have no idea, Emma, you don’t know what happened.” Her voice seems suddenly stronger, losing all ounce of vulnerability now that I’m peeking anger at her.

“I don’t need to, it never changes. Who was it this time? Another five-minute romance or is this someone longer term? How often has this one hit you huh?” I snap; my temper getting the better of me and Sophie moves off to sit in the corner. She looks uncomfortable and wide-eyed and it makes me all the more guilty. She doesn’t need to see all this.

“That is none of your concern! This is my life and affects only me!” My mother snaps back at me, yanking her hand back to her chest in anger. Not so frail now.

about me? It affects all of us!” The tears blind me, and I start losing it. Bubbling up inside. I storm away, wrapping my arms around myself and

fight, Emma … This was as much my fault.” The same pathetic cringey voice, the same pathetic excuses as she drops the attitude and goes on in full blown victim mode. There

it in, hold my anger or the heart break. My mother is once again ripping out my very soul and throwing it to the wolves. She hasn’t changed at all and this could be

around at her, my eyes pouring pitifully; she looks shocked at my obvious distress. She has never seen me cry, not since I was a very small child. “You’ve no idea the chaos that you cause … “This …” I gesture across her body and injuries. “Is only the tip of the iceberg, Mother! I won’t let you subject Sophie to more of the same crap.” I can’t say anything more, my voice breaking, the tears taking over. I just shake my head aggressively and walk out fast. Unable to say anything else or keep myself in check and not staying to have her argue or try to bully me into changing my mind. I won’t

get a bus home later, giving her extra money so. I don’t have to stay and endure this. I

Jake hired standing dutifully to open my door as I approach, and

could handle this. She will never change. She will never see that she’s the one who brings this on. She chooses these men, then makes goddamn excuses

it’ll be sooner rather than later as I can’t stay here much longer; she won’t talk to the police, even I know that.

heartbeat, until the next time when she ends up back here and then? Maybe one day one of them will kill her. Can she not see how what she does

with too much trauma to cope with. My defense mechanism kicking in and numbing it all away, pushing it

it all back in and focus instead on getting the hell away from this

in my mood. He always brings me back from craziness, even when I think

has sent you an iTunes

Give Me A Reason”

decipher the meaning for sending it and can’t. I glance at the time of the email and realize he sent it at four in the morning, most likely when he was