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

“Emma … I want you to know how much I love you … I mean really love you … There’s no one else in this world for me. I need you …” He gets up and paces around for a moment, making me feel sick with worry but relieved that this isn’t a breakup speech. He comes back to his previous position and swallows hard. “Last night, when I thought you’d done something, after the talk about not wanting to marry me and pretty much breaking up … It fucked me up in the head.” His eyes are focused on my hands and I can see they are filled with unshed tears; he can’t look at me. “None of this changes how I feel about you … I need you to know that I still love you every bit as much as I did, I still want the same things with you, and I acted like a complete fucking idiot at the airport … I believe you when you text me that nothing happened. I wish I had the sense to realize it last night, but I was so drunk and jealous, and I wasn’t rational … bambino I was so goddamn distraught.” He lifts my hands to his mouth rubbing my knuckles against his face, his stubble scratching at me achingly and kissing them lightly. I hold my breath. Closing his eyes for a moment, savoring my touch, my smell as though they are to be his last. My inner trembles begin to shake my whole body, my breath held. “I did something really stupid, miele … …” His words instantly send a heavy dread inside of me, pulsing out through every limb, an ache in my chest so strong I think my heart is going to give out. I can’t do anything except sit like stone, eyes wide and frozen and wait, wait for whatever it is he needs to tell me with the growing trepidation that this could change everything.

“What?” It’s so strained I don’t recognize my own voice, the question impulsive at the agony of what’s coming out of his mouth. I’m paralyzed in fear, knowing only this man has the power to truly destroy me.

“I was beyond drunk, Emma … Seriously fucked up … Upset … Not thinking straight.” He tightens his hold on me as though the words are painful, and he’s scared I’ll run. I’m terrified, my mind racing at a hundred miles an hour with growing dread.

What has he done? Why is he being this way?

“Tell me.” I beg, desperate to end this torture, tears already finding a path down my cheeks as if some part of me already knows what’s happened and is mourning in advance.

“I kissed someone.” The shame of those uttered words makes him drop his head in disgust. My hands shoot out of his, scolded in reaction, my body darting back as though he’s hit me with an electric volt. My heart sears with pain and a blinding ache through my head. I gasp and try to catch my breath but only a sob comes out.

He looks up, panic in his eyes yet stays still, he’s prepared himself for my reaction. This is why he sat so close, so I’m hemmed in, even if I try to pull away. I can’t run without pushing him away and he knows I don’t have the physical strength, he thought about this first.

long he’s played this over in his head in the

you mean?” I can’t comprehend this, I don’t want it to be true,

my security

with us, someone we know. Just a coincidence she was even in town at all. I kissed her. I guess I wanted to lash out, so sure we were done.” His eyes come to mine, keeping his hands steady on his lap, he knows not to touch me. He can see I’m perched ready to react, only held still by my shock. Unable to make any part of my

vomit grasping my mouth with both palms and then break down, the racking sounds of sobbing and the dissolving of my posture. The wrenching pain of someone ripping your very soul from within. His face crumbles and he reaches for me but I slap him

think, what to say; the pain is

can’t think straight; my heart is being shredded out through my stomach and I’m lashing out in teen Emma mode. He tries to restrain me, but I battle him off until he stops. Unable to

my god this may actually kill

sorry. Baby. I’m sorry … I didn’t think about what I was doing, I just wanted to lash out … I was drunk and stupid, I’m an idiot … I fucked-up so badly … When I turned on my cell and got your messages, Emma … I died.” His cheeks are wet with moisture, his voice low and shameful, his expression reflecting the agony of what he’s telling me. I don’t doubt that he regrets it but he’s killing me inside. This pain unbearable, I can’t begin to think about what

say again robotically, it’s the only detail I can focus on right now. I don’t know why it matters but something inside of me

meant to be in France; it would fit. The pain of both betraying me that way would end

distance between us because he knows his next confession is going to be just as bad. I can tell, I can feel it. He shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at the floor between us. His distance makes me afraid; he thinks I’m going to freak out,