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

The others are up on deck, lazing around and eating a cold buffet that has been set out on a long, low table by the loungers; it looks awesome and my stomach rumbles, despite the anxious tension between Jake and me. It’s a welcome distraction and I head straight for it to pile myself a plate, deliberately ignoring him behind me.

“Oh, the love birds have returned.” Leila squeals and almost throws herself into my arms for a hug. I cast her a warning look, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“We went for a drive.” Jake’s broody tone comes from far behind me, as though he’s still standing at the top of the stairs to the deck, I ignore him. Leila casts a worried glance behind me, then back at me, but she keeps her mouth closed. I hear his footsteps as he leaves and heads down to the second floor and I’m relieved. We could do with some time apart to get over whatever this is between us; I can’t even begin to dissect the past twenty-four hours of this trip. So much for a holiday break that would relax us!

Leila, sensing something is up, goes into overdrive in a bid to distract me. She is infectious, and she soon has me laughing, some of the tension easing and I’m good at pretending every is okay on the surface, that Jake isn’t at the forefront of my mind every second. I just want Jake to come back up as relaxed and normal and join in. Put this mess away, but he doesn’t re-appear.

I’m cool toward the other girls … Marissa has been watching me with a sour expression on her face since I arrived, and Miracle is lying topless, facing me, pouting and applying her third layer of lip gloss.

Jesus, put them away.

The men are huddled together over one of the double loungers, listening to some game coming from Richard’s cell and making male grunts and moans when something isn’t going well. I assume it’s baseball.

Jake reappears half an hour later, changed into a black fitted shirt and jeans, his usual clubbing look. I love that on him, and it cuts me inside. I just need us to be okay again. He has his shades on, hair spiked, and looks casual as always; even when I’m still mad at him, he makes me ache inside.

“Emma, I need you a second.” He sounds like boss Carrero and not Jake and I prickle inside but get up dutifully.

Well, at least I know where I stand with boss Carrero.

I follow and we walk down to the lower floor of the boat, I can sense his tension and stiffness; even at a distance, he’s emanating anger. It makes my stomach drop down to my knees, but I only stand taller and maintain a look of disinterest. Clasping my hands behind my back to hide the trembling. My stomach twisting and my heart pounding.

“I’m leaving for a couple of days … I’ve left you a credit card in your room in case you want to go out; there’s a car on shore that will take you anywhere you want to go.” His voice is flat, he avoids looking at me directly.

Wait, what?

panic rises in a

two weeks, so you wouldn’t need to go anywhere.” I react instinctively, my voice slightly higher and faster than normal. I’m practically hyperventilating because this was never part of

the last words, sarcasm oozing from him and it

we’re still at this,

reply coolly, in my best PA tone. Pushing everything down and bringing that mask

devoid of expression, only his eyes betray him, with anger seething

to know what’s going on. I want to be with him. Know what he’s thinking. I want us to go back

slapped. The knife slicing into my chest,

Why are

going to fuck other women suddenly? You

in my throat at the thought of him with someone else. Pushing it down, trying to fight the urge

line. That’s what you called it, right?” He tosses back casually. I fall back, but I

back to him and his women and I return to being just his

… I don’t

to screw someone will uncross that line?” The words catch in my throat like steel wool,

turns into his room and pulls a suitcase from the cupboard; I notice he’s already packed

cold. The reality is that I’m dying inside, and I want to yell at him. Hold onto him. Beg him to stop

me, Jake … twice. No three times. You kissed me and now you’re going to have

latest tension … I need to go let off steam.” He smirks icily. So devoid of feeling. I don’t know this Jake. I hate this Jake. I want my normal Jake to come back, the one who would never talk to me this way, hurt me this way. My

me was “recent

it at all; I want to throw myself at his feet and cry and hold him back from going, but I won’t. I pull my chin up defiantly and push down the hurt, replace it with anger and glare, let that trained part of me take over, in

I have pride!

to tears, inside I’m a chaos of emotions and trauma,