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.

body trembling, waiting for

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

been struck. Shaking my head impulsively as I take in what he’s just said. I never

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

to our headquarters across town, Carrero Tower. To work on my father’s floor, Emma … 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

warning I crumble, falling forward into my hands and I lose control, crying softly, unable to stop

me this way. Not him! … Not after everything. He’s sending me away, and it’s ripping me apart

I can’t look up at him. I can only let him guide me around and crush me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me so tightly, I can barely breathe. “Not now, Emma … Not like this,” he croaks breathily. I don’t understand what he means by that, all I can do is sag against him and let everything flow out of me, all the anguish and heartache and pain of the last few days while

myself, my sobs finally turning to soft tears as I calm down. Unable to think of any words to fix this.

surrounded by strength and his intoxicating scent. Taking solace in the cause of my pain, a safe haven to me; but how can he be when he’s told me I’m to be sent away from here, that I’m done working for him? He’s not my haven anymore, he’s my destroyer

and empty. Lifting my hand to wipe my face, my make-up smearing across the back of it, but

away; he’s been resting

behaved, how I’ve reacted and

mouth and she’s mortally wounded. Old Emma is recoiling in fear of rejection, because he is already hurting me and pushing

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

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.

talk about this, Jake.” I finally manage, my voice broken and childlike. I want to

him, Emma … Tell him you love