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

Gazing up at the crappy brown building that houses “The Haven” homeless shelter, an internal wave of anxiety builds up inside of me, like an all-consuming black hole, now that I’m faced with old memories. Jake is standing behind me with hands on my shoulders, a kiss on my neck brings me back to the present.

“Call me and I’ll come, okay?” His voice is a reminder that I can do this, I can be strong enough because of him.

“I know. Now leave, before I change my mind about going to the hotel first.” I giggle as his hand skims my ass; he’s a tempting distraction to what I know I need to do.

“If I’d known you were this torn about it, I would’ve applied a little more pressure.” He smirks wickedly, letting his hand trail lower under my dress. I laugh and shove him off playfully with my butt, which only serves to cheer him on because he pushes his hand further between my legs and I fight the scalding surge of heat it causes.

For the love of God. Stay focused.

“Go! There’s plenty of time for that later, a lot of that.” I smile as he holds up hands in defeat.

“I’m holding you to that, baby.” He smacks my ass and turns back to the car, winking and waving as he slides in effortlessly. I stand watching him and sigh, a chaos of emotions churning up at the loss of his touch. He waits by the sidewalk until I swallow down the inner dread; when it passes, I turn with a wave and head inside.

Jake won’t wander far, probably a nearby café or something within walking distance so he can get back to

me in a hurry. Knowing he’s close helps, knowing I can call him, and he’ll be right here gives me strength. It gives me the peace that I desperately need. The man is too much for my heart to handle sometimes but I wouldn’t have him any other way.

I swallow down everything building up inside of me and push through the doors into the main foyer of the building; it’s a lot nicer than the last time I stepped in here, and I remember my mother talking about refurbishments to this place the last time I saw her. It’s airy and light but cozy and welcoming. I spot the familiar receptionist, Claire, even after all these years she looks the same, but surprised to see me and beams at my entrance.

“Hello, Emma! Well look at you! God, you look really great. The vision of happiness with that glowing face of yours, and your hair is adorable.” I smile warmly, my composure slipping when faced with people from my past. The urge to lift my chin and force out those cold mannerisms and icy tone is almost overwhelming me, but I don’t. That instant compulsion died a while back, in the glory of Jake’s presence and I won’t slide into an old habit just to deal with my discomfort around this poor woman.

I take her in with a genuine smile hiding

her head in the books.” She pats my shoulder gently and smiles “Just go on up. She’ll be so happy to see

Doubtful.

before I head toward the staircase at the far-right corner, thanking Claire as I go, by-passing a couple of undesirable looking teens loitering nearby,

Wonderful.

sadness for her as

old familiar corridor leading to her office. The same pale cream walls and red carpet, no refurbishments up here to keep my memories at bay. Her pine office door is chipped and scraped, but her name is executively etched onto a brass sign screwed to the outside, looking so out of place

picture Jake’s soft caring

I can do this.

the handle and walk in, like it’s the most natural thing in the

of shock gape across her mouth as it quickly turns into a warm smile, a little wary but still warm and it makes my stomachache. Doubt creeps in and makes this instantly harder. My mother is always

stands and smiles, rolling a pen between both her hands, elbows bent in front of her. We still for a moment, neither being the type to initiate any sort

surprise.” She gestures pointedly with her pen for me to sit down. “Please, have a seat.” Her voice is steady, no hint

and move slowly, closing the door behind me to give us some privacy; deciding not to sit down, knowing I won’t be here long enough to get ‘comfortable’ – if that’s even the definition of what this situation is. I’m glad we’re here and not at the apartment; this is easier, detached, and business-like with a desk separating us and making me feel more capable. This is a place I rarely visited

sure I’d ever see you back here, after the way you both left last time …” She raises a brow with a hint of attitude, and I bristle. She’s clearly still angry about my behavior and my accusations, no doubt irritated that Jake saw that side to her. This is the reaction I’ve been expecting though, no

what’s she’s

many times; withdrawing any form of affection, like she always did when I was a child. She’s freezing me out, except this time it’s not because I’ve

her about my childhood. My mother is a narcissistic person, clear to me like a flash of light as I take in her familiar pose and expression,