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

I don’t know what to say. I’m completely dumbstruck into silence. I want to rewind to seconds ago when his mouth was on me and his fingers sliding inside of me when I didn’t want him to stop. I’m reeling with confusion, stung by his instant rage and close to tears. My heartache returning with a passion as he walks off from the car into darkness for a few minutes. I can barely make out his powerful figure as he paces back and forth. He seems to be really pissed off, trying to regain some control, arguing with himself. If it weren’t so traumatic it would be kind of funny to watch.

I try to pull in my thoughts, hauling my skirt around me a little, trying to conceal as much nakedness as I can before he returns. He spins toward the car, and stalks back with a glare of sheer fury as he slams into his seat with a closed off expression on his face. He doesn’t look at me, just throws us into reverse at speed, causing me to shoot forward. His hand darts out, grabs me and stops my collision with the dash.

“Put your fucking belt on!” he barks, angrily. Almost like he’s slapped me in the face, and I remove his hand from my waist and scramble to pull my belt over, harnessing myself in obediently. I can’t speak … On the verge of breaking down because I have no idea what I’ve done wrong and I become a jumble of shaking nerves.

What the hell happened?

He flicks on the stereo with a push of a button and music blares around us. Nickelback’s ‘Rockstar’ is mid-chorus, loud and invading, drowning out the ability to talk. He’s making it very clear he has no intention of talking anymore. His focus is on the road as he reverses out into a clearing, a little more gently this time, but his face is a picture of rage. He gets us back on route, jaw tight and frowning. I can see the darkness in his eyes, even from this angle, and know he’s in another shitty mood, clearly in psycho mode.

He’s driving a little more aggressively, just like he did on the way back to the boat when we went away on holiday. Even that nightmare ended with me not seeing him for over a week. I don’t feel quite so relaxed anymore as he makes full use of the car’s responsive acceleration. I know a severely pissed Carrero when I see it, but I don’t understand why. I slide down in my seat, trying to look out the window away from him. My heart pounding through my chest manically, so afraid to even look his way. I have so much I want to say to him, but this reaction, and the way he’s acting has killed the words on my lips. I want to cry and get as far away from him as possible, so I can sob this night away.

I maneuver my skirt around my waist, so the split is up the outer side on my thigh, at least I’ll be able to hold it together when I make my exit and only expose my leg instead of ass. I catch him glancing at me, his expression harsh. He clenches his teeth, making his jaw move in agitation and looks away again quickly almost spearing my heart with the ferocity of his glare.

The rest of the journey is tense and conversation free as loud music blares around us, adding to the heightened fragile atmosphere.

* * *

clamber out, ungracefully holding my skirt with one hand and gripping the doorframe with the other. We avoid looking at one another, the icy air between us sending out chills. I long for him to say something … anything. But he doesn’t. He just closes the door

I’m holding my skirt together with one hand at my thigh but it’s not doing much to conceal my naked leg, she can probably see my lack of panties too. I shake my head, sighing, my face pleading with her,

in my brain. I groan inwardly. Dampening the agony. My aching heart is solidly back

hell did we do? Again?

had been so final. It told me he wanted me out of his life, that he wasn’t into me at all. Yet look what just happened. I

me. Yet, somehow, I seem to have had as much of an effect on him as he did on me. I want to cry but there’s a tiny glint of

for me. But, if I listen to my heart, it’s telling me I know

me? Almost having me on

then, there’s Marissa. Something neither of us broached. Marissa and his unborn child.

my door interrupts my train of thought and Sarah comes inside, shyly bearing two mugs of cocoa. She slides them down on the bedside table and climbs on the bed beside me, lying down, mirroring

to the floor to try to grab it. She untangles it and holds it high, smirking

learned how to communicate with her a little better and enjoy having someone to confide in nowadays, about Jake

You had sex?” She

to you?”