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.

still unable to tear my eyes from him, my body trembling, waiting for some sign of how this will play out. Something doesn’t feel right, and my inner fears start churning low

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

my head impulsively as I take in what he’s just said. I never saw this coming at all, and my insides drop with the gravity of how bad

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

you to go 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

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,

break me this way. Not him! … Not after everything. He’s

don’t, please.” His voice cracks and waves over me closely as his arms come around me, pulling me from my chair. 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,

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

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

the back of it, but I don’t care. I

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

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

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

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

palm against the glass, his focus fixated outside silently for what seems like an eternity. That powerful body, outlined against the skyline, only serving

want to get up and

Tell him you