The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

He seems to be liking the fact that I have been this way all week; amused that the cool in control brother, for once, is the one acting like a bear with a sore head and having erratic juvenile flare ups of temper. You know, being Jake.

Smug asshole.

“Arry is in the good old ‘overthink, over analyze, and stress himself into an early ulcer’ mode. You know nothing we say will get his head together... he’s a stubborn ass hole when it comes to figuring shit out.” My brother smirks at me again, on his feet now too and shoulder shoves me as he walks past. Straightening his tie before losing patience and pulling it off in agitation, now the meeting is adjourned. I didn’t even bother with one today, after wrestling in the mirror with one this morning for twenty minutes, I threw it across the couch and left it at home. Agitation is becoming my new best friend and ties are something I rarely do.

“None of any of this is any of your fucking business.” I snap, annoyed that he is still going on at me, after days. Jake and his idea I should man up, give Sophie and me a chance and be done with it. No cares about hurting Natasha, how wrong this is, how huge a deal it would be if we didn’t work. The list of things in our way mean very little to him and sometimes his self-centered attitude drives me crazy.

Jake is a guy who pursues what he wants and doesn’t care who it affects. We are like chalk and cheese.

“Tetchy this morning, Buttercup.... losing that cool demeanor an awfully lot lately.” He tweaks my cheek immaturely and impulsively I raise a fist and slide into fighter mode, so ready to take the shit, head on, in this mood. He slaps my clenched fist with his palm, dancing around ready to spar and laughs at me, while lifting defensive fists in readiness. Our childish sparring, we do a lot. Lightening my mood, a little, at how much of a dumb ass he is; always ready to play fight and carry on like we are still kids. He makes a couple of mock jabs in mid-air which I dodge expertly.

“I will fuck you up.” I growl at him, no longer feeling serious, but still feeling messy inside. Sophie really knows how to screw me up without even trying and I wonder if she knows how badly she gets to me. I wonder if she knows how much she fucks my head and my heart up. Going to fight training is the only thing keeping me from self-imploding with all this shit inside of me.

“I will beat both of you if you do not stop this nonsense and get back to work. Arry, we will chat later.” My father’s heavy tone and narrowed gaze alerts us to the audience at the glass panel doors. Seems like a lot of staff are wandering around up here and we are apparently entertaining. I guess it’s not often you see two thirds of the CEO trio trying to play box with one another like five-year old’s in the board room. I drop my stance and sigh, now overly aware of the audience. Scooping up my cell and impulsively check the screen. I won’t be having any heart to heart later. I have training at six, the only way to keep me sane.

No calls, no texts.... no Sophie. It hits me low in the stomach and this churning weight that has been with me since I walked out of her bedroom. I hate that she has this power over me so effortlessly, without even trying. No other person alive has ever been able to get under my skin and pull my head and heart apart like she does.

a shove from me as I pass him, with a cool look of not amused. Eager to be out the door

my head down and fast steps. Stalking through the busy hall, trying to put distance between my brother and father, who will be hot on my heels soon enough, when my cell starts vibrating in my hand. Looking at it quickly

stopping stock still. My stomach in my mouth almost instantly, internal fluttering with nerves and heart rate elevating as my palms

Adrenalin and warmness that flow through me have stopped me in my tracks, standing in the middle of the hall as people push by me with small smiles and nods. I look

and beautiful, and a little irritated, if not a little emotional too. She sounds perfect, despite what she is actually saying to me. That inner knot in my stomach at finally hearing her voice again, even if it is to tell me to leave her alone and everything bouncing around in me that has been holding still, to just hear from her again. I can’t help the deliriously happy in this

to go to talk to her; determined that I will keep her on my cell for hours if that is what it takes to sort things out between us. Seeing nowhere else, I head back to the board room from where I just came from. It’s empty

be your girlfriend?” Sophie sounds defensive, hurt and her words cut me to the bone in all ways. Last thing I told her was that I didn’t feel that way about her, I haven’t told her that I

fast and latching the lock to make sure I get no interruptions. I move to the table and perch on

right now, and all the weeks of churning anxiety and anger, dissipate with a connection to her. Finally talking to her and yet she is trying to cut me loose. Hearing her only reminds me of how much I have been missing her and how much I can’t deal with Sophie closing me

nothing you can say. Just leave me be and let me move on, Arry. I’m begging you. Stop calling me, stop texting, and just leave me alone. Let me get over you and get some sanity back. Maybe after that, we can see each other ... but not until then.” Again, she sounds strained and emotional, doing what she thinks she needs to do. She doesn’t know that I might actually feel that way about her too, but I can’t tell her

I am trying to be honest because I know I’ll need her, yet I still just cannot come out and say the words she needs to hear. I know I should say something, confirm something about how I

funny texts about nothing when I need a mood lift. Sophie is the calm in the crazy, the sun

out. I’m trying to be a better person, for me, and I’m trying to find a way to get on in life. I can’t do that if you keep pulling me back to you. If you care about me, like you say you do, then let me go. Let me do this on my own.” Her voice wobbles and breaks subtly, tears in her normally angelic tone and it rips me apart. I hate making my girl cry. Such a shithead and words stick in my throat. I can’t help

that I don’t need

Don’t do this to me.” Don’t do this to us. We need each other. I know I can talk her round if I just see her again, face to face, one on one. I want to see her, it feels like years since I got to be near her and more than anything, I