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

“Physical pain goes away, Jake … Don’t focus on injuries that healed in weeks.” I flop back down, the irritation rising to strangle out my mellow drunkenness. Dismissing it. I don’t need this right now. My insides start to clench with anxiety.

“What do you mean?” I sense his shift in position, so he’s looking at me.

Does he really have no clue?

The physical side means nothing in the grand scheme of things; it’s the emotional mess left inside of me that I don’t want Jake to see.

“He broke my arm and ribs; he almost broke my nose and he gave me a concussion that had me in hospital for days. But it all healed in time.” I don’t even remember how that felt.

Why am I telling him this? Alcohol is like a lubricant for my goddamn mouth.

I’m drunk and somehow it doesn’t feel as bad saying it out loud when I am this detached from normal Emma. It’s like I’m talking about someone else; sad little Emma back home in Chicago, so far away. He needs to understand that none of it means anything anymore. I’m not her.

Jake makes an odd noise; I think it’s a grunt, a snort—maybe a moan. I don’t know, but it’s not a good noise, it’s a reaction to what I have said, and I talk fast to cover it.

“I mean, I don’t remember the physical pain. You should forget it too,” I say it so matter of fact, yet softly, trying to fix the point I was making. It makes me sick in reality and tears sting my eyes despite my shrugging it off.

“How can I forget it?” he looks at me as though I have two heads and it pushes me into over-sensitive and defensively emotional Anytime we broach this subject, we fight. I don’t want that right now. I can’t handle this tonight.

“Same way I do; push it out of your head. Ignore it. Lock it away deep down and don’t talk about what he did to me.” I try for a shrug, but at this angle it’s more of a squirm because it IS upsetting me on some level.

voice is quiet and unsteady, he sounds different—afraid. I guess he has been trying to figure this out for

A lump forms in my throat

… He tried … I fought back … My mom came home.” I stare at the ceiling of the car, listening to another version of Emma, talking out loud, detached

is breathy, talking as he exhales, he sounds relieved, but also sad for me, and I don’t like it. I pull

emotion from deep down suddenly jumping out. He spins his head to look me in the eye, shocked,

do what?” he

sensation. “Don’t look at me in that way, like I’m some sort of damaged broken glass who is too fragile for life.” My feet have been in his lap this whole time and I pull them away fast. Struggling up, I sway, and realize I’ve got a seatbelt clipped over my

not feel something when you tell me that asshole beat the shit out of you and tried to rape you?” he’s angry and it’s unexpected. I wasn’t prepared for

don’t need sympathy. I fought back … Hard … He broke my bones for it, but you know what? He didn’t manage to rape me; he didn’t do what he wanted … I won!” I yell out loudly, not at Jake, but at the world in general.

I hadn’t shown up in Chicago and he had come back?” he retorts. I don’t

I don’t even know why I’m yelling at Jake.

touch firing through my brain. I don’t want him to see me cry over this, not over these memories and those men. Not over that shit or Ray Vanquis. My mind

I’m resisting him, but he’s stronger and faster and I’m still drunk with slow reactions. The racking sobs making me weak and he’s determined to hold

head against his cheek, even though I’m still fighting, but I’m losing. I don’t like the noises coming from deep within me, like I’m spiraling out of control. I hate this. I’m not weak. I’m not vulnerable. The wails don’t sound like they’re coming from me and I push his hands off me again and again, but he’s relentless and his grip tightens. He pulls me hard onto him, so he can get better control

around me. Strong, tight arms and firm hands, trying to calm me so I finally

met my sheer fire and fury. Ray hadn’t been the first man to hit me either yet despite all of it, I never allowed myself to be a victim. I’m not a victim now. I’m stronger than all of

at me that way. My friends knowing that my mother never protected me against the myriad of perverted fucks she brought home, refused to acknowledge it instead. Why she couldn’t be stronger and protect me? Sarah never looked at me that way, she knew, even then, that I was made of stronger stuff. I look after Sarah

don’t know how I look at you … Even before this … This won’t change any of it.” His voice is sincere, but I’m confused, I don’t know what he means, I’m too distraught to think straight. The tears still rolling down my face while his forehead rests against mine, his hand cupping my cheek and thumb trailing across my skin softly. His arm around me so tightly while keeping me against his warm,