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

Jake walks in with a man in tow and I take a sharp breath at his mere appearance; he’s in a deep gray shirt, left open at the collar, and dark jacket, matching pants and shades, his face has a little more stubble than normal. He looks flawless in every way, a seductive cool, confident heartthrob and it causes my heart to constrict painfully. His eyes are concealed with Ray Bans as they walk by me in the office.

I long to reach out and touch him as he passes. He keeps his distance, throwing me a tight smile, and says nothing; just heads with his male friend to his own office and shuts the door. I feel sick. I just want to be alone with him to talk, a chance to explain, apologize, win back my Jake in any small way that I can.

I want to know what’s happening with Marissa. How he feels about it, what the future holds for her, and him.

I sit at my desk and fidget with everything within reach, but I just don’t care. I don’t have the strength to be PA Emma anymore. I’m listless, tense, and emotional, and I’ve fallen to pieces so many times in the past two days that I could cry right here, in front of everyone, and it wouldn’t matter. I need him.

My hair falls forward into my face so many times as I shift about, I start regretting this hair cut at all.

Why did I ever change it?

I smile sadly as I ponder it; my hair is just another sign that I had been letting go. Taking away a piece of the armor, oblivious to the fact at the time. Another small change pushed on me by Jake’s looming presence. I tug my fingers from my scalp, I’ve been tangling them absent-mindedly, and straighten my back in a bid to pull myself together. This is sheer agony, my nerves are all over the place, my mind anywhere but work.

Finally, his visitor leaves, and waves me a passing goodbye and friendly smile. I sit with bated breath, wondering if I should just walk in and try to talk to him but my courage fails me. I don’t have to ponder over it for long, as my switchboard lights up and he asks me to come into his office.

I hold my breath, my nerves reeling as I get up, palms sweaty, stomach fluttering and slowly make my way in, pushing the heavy door closed behind me once I’m inside, unable to take my eyes off him. He’s facing down towards his laptop, concentrating, and typing, he’s taken off his shades and his jacket; too good to be real, yet avoiding directly looking at me.

I crave for him to glance at me and smile in his usual way. Hollywood handsome, but he doesn’t. He nods up darkly and indicates I take a seat; all Mr. Business Carrero, devoid of all friendliness, acting ultra-cool toward me.

the tension already. I do as I’m told, still unable to tear my eyes from him, my body trembling, waiting

his face is closed off, giving nothing away. He shifts in his seat so he’s sitting taller and closes his laptop slowly, watching me as intently as I’m watching him. I hold my breath, my nerves piquing. “We can’t work together anymore … Too much has happened for this to work.” He sounds

I take in what he’s just said. I never saw this coming at all, and my insides drop

out, dazed, my voice detached from my reeling mind, my body frozen to

It’s for the best.” He looks away and turns his chair to the windows of the office, gazing over New York as if to dismiss me. His body language completely unreadable, straight, and solid, physically

all, gasping like I’m drowning. I can’t breathe. I try to speak, but only a sob is forced out. Without any warning I crumble, falling forward into my hands and I lose control, crying softly, unable to stop anything anymore, just a shadow of the person

me, to us … He can’t break me this way. Not him! … Not after everything. He’s sending me away, and it’s

his arms around me so tightly, I can barely breathe. “Not now,

myself, my sobs finally turning to soft tears as I calm down. Unable to think of any words to fix this. I take deep breaths and try so hard to be calm again, ashamed of him seeing me this

with immense effort, I accomplish stable, still held tightly in his arms, surrounded by strength and his intoxicating scent. Taking solace in the cause of my pain, a safe haven to me; but how can

face, my make-up smearing across the back of it, but I don’t

his breath on top of my scalp seems to move away; he’s been resting his face in my hair the whole time, as I was breathing him

screaming at me to say it, to open up and tell him. That how I’ve behaved, how I’ve reacted and held back, is all in the past, that I want him to see the real me. I want him to finally get through my walls, show him

has control over my mouth and she’s mortally wounded. Old Emma is recoiling in

sits me back down on the chair behind me. The look on his face stills every word I have brimming in my mind that I want to say. So cold, as though he’s shut a door and he’s trying to gain distance. I know that look. It’s my look. Nothing I say will make a

and walks to the windows and stares out, his body tense as he places a palm against the glass, his focus fixated outside silently for what seems like an eternity.

manage, my voice broken and childlike. I want to get up and walk

Tell him you