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

“Emma? Mr. Carrero wants to see you.” A small childish voice comes up behind me, causing me to flinch and drop my duster. My heart hits a sudden stop as I inhale heavily pushing back my hair which is stuck to my face from the exertion of my enthusiastic cleaning, my eyes widening in disbelief.

What? Jake? He’s here?

My brain reels a moment with a lurch of possibility before sense smacks me in the chest sharply, kickstarting rapid heartbeats.

No. Giovanni! Of course!

I feel like an idiot. I throw a tight smile her way before turning smoothly to acknowledge the girl, pushing down signs of my overreaction and trying to calm my crazy thudding pulse rate. It’s one of the small receptionists, all blonde hair, and big boobs—like most of Senior’s staff. He’s sickeningly singular about the women in his employ, finding those whose looks are less like the woman he’s married to and more like the “bunnies” of the Hugh Heffner world.

“Okay, where is he?” My voice is even, despite my irritation and internal mental breakdown and a familiar wave of control moves across me unexpectedly.

“In his office, you’d better go right away, he’s in a bad mood.” The tone in her voice betrays her fear of Senior Carrero, but I ignore it. He doesn’t scare me in the slightest. His attitude toward his employee’s grates on my nerves at the best of times; I’m used to that familial Carrero glare and its wily ways. Jake hadn’t been against using that glare when bad moods struck, impossible scenarios or general mess ups. I think, somehow, coming here, I’ve lost all unease around Giovanni Carrero. My heart being ripped out by a man who shares his name has made me immune to the effects any Carrero could’ve tried to pull on me.

I push memories of Jake aside harshly swallowing that lump in my throat that hits me whenever my brain focuses on him. I can’t think about him right now.

Ever!

If I do, I’ll just dwell on how much I miss him and how much I think about the night we had sex … repeatedly. I’ll torture myself into insanity, and I can’t afford to do that. Mentally, I am only just starting to see glimpses of the old me and don’t want to scare her back into submission already.

the long hall leading to King Carrero’s domain with my chin in the air once more, showing pride and defiance that I don’t feel. I am not going to be intimidated by this man. No matter how badly he thinks I am doing at my

as I enter his office, for once he’s alone, and sat in his leather throne behind his oversized, polished walnut desk. The sun is blazing in from the wall of glass behind him and the breath-taking New York scenery pulls my eyes to the city for a second. He looks like a formidable billionaire framed by his kingdom; small and tanned with

watches my every movement as I stroll nearer his desk, knowing that he would never ask me to sit,

I start tonelessly, my body rigid under his scrutiny. My nerves swirling uncontrollably low down in my belly despite my demeanor. There is no love between us, I am merely another irritation to his life and

I think we need to have a little chat.” He doesn’t even have the grace to continue looking at me while saying

mince his words and I stare at him blankly, unsurprised. I’ve expected this moment for a while, amazed it’s

unexpected confession causes a sharp knife-like pain in my chest, a slight confused

keep me employed? No matter what? Despite sending me away … But

I push it down harshly, almost unable to swallow. I’m not ready to dissect

the point, not wasting his breath on small talk. I know he’s not embellishing. If he thinks I am a drain

me?” I respond drily, less confident at the turn of this conversation. Grasping my hands together as they start to tremble, I lay them across my waist to regain

now, I wouldn’t care if he sent me to Timbuktu if it meant I didn’t get

excel at planning and juggling a high workload, so I hope you finally prove it to me.”

of going back to that building surges through me like fire, igniting my fear manically, but I remain impassive under his scrutiny while my blood

this out … You’re still employed under duress of my son, he was very clear on this, and as you know, my relationship with Jacob is somewhat strained; so this …” he waves his hand to me then back to himself dismissively, “… is the compromise I made to keep him happy. If I hadn’t made such promises to Jacob, I would’ve fired you in under a week.” He visually releases his grip on me as an end to our discussion and he goes back

involuntarily, face hot with shame and body weakening with cold anxiety. I suppose I should be grateful for this, despite my inner organs trying