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

Chapter 26

“Knew you couldn’t hate me for long, Bambino.” He’s still smiling and trying to look convincingly assured while failing.

Yeah, of course, you were so confident when I walked in.

I remember his stressed posture and lost look, only moments before.

“Hmm, the jury is still out on that,” I answer impassively. I could never hate Jake. He throws me a mock injured look and I push him harder this time, so he falls back onto the couch with flailing arms and a shocked expression.

Easy there, teen Emma, he’s still your boss.

“Hey, woman! Any more of that and I’ll have to retaliate. I can promise you; my kind of physical exertion will put some color in your cheeks.” He gets up as though he’s going to grab me and I squeal, throwing out my arms toward him and shoving him straight back down with more force than necessary. He falls into the couch and just laughs at me.

“Hey! … Gross misconduct, Miss. Anderson.” He chucks a scatter cushion up at me, but I dodge it easily and catch it. All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

“Sue me.” I throw it back with a smile as I walk to lift my cell and groan at the numerous notifications. I’m a little breathless, and a hell of a lot happier.

I push down the thoughts about sperm donor, Ray, and Chicago. Jake says he won’t press me on this issue, and I know he means it, I can relax again. We can relax again. We just need to move on now.

I glance at my work out clothes and realize I need to get changed; we have actual work to do. I appraise him lounging on the couch, still watching me and I feel better, lighter. He drives me crazy

sometimes but at least Jake isn’t someone who harbors moods or anger for very long. Well, unless you’re his father. Generally, he has a sunny manner.

The thought makes me smile … Sunny … Never thought I’d associate that word with Jake Carrero.

“Are you going to get changed?” I ask as I skim through my cell trying to now push us forward. I need to get my laptop open and check the email from Rosalie. She’s text me, informing me there are file attachments, revisions to the Hunter—Carrero contracts Jake has requested that require his immediate attention. I push the last thoughts of sperm donor away and get back into PA mode. It’s better this way.

“Nope.” He lays out on the couch tossing the cushion in the air casually and watching me from his vantage point; I frown at his casual attire and lack of moving.

“Well, I’m going to get changed so at least I can feel like I’m ready for work.” I take my cell with me and start to walk back to my room, engrossed in replying to Rosalie’s email.

“Emma?” he halts me in my tracks.

I freeze; a tiny tremor of doubt crosses my mind and I hold my breath. Waiting.

“Uhuh?” I try to sound non-committal.

“I’m glad we’re okay … Let’s not fight about that shit again okay?” his huskiness betrays a slight hint of emotion.

“Okay.” I turn and give him a genuine smile; a warm tide of affection fills my stomach as he throws me a genuine natural smile in reply. No showy playful or “I’m just so gorgeous”, but relief we’re friends again and I return it even more so. No one makes me relax like Jake does. Sometimes it’s a curse but right now, I don’t mind it. It feels okay to sometimes relinquish a little bit of the control, to stop holding everything in, especially when that smile is the reward.

* * *

Jake has watched the most godawful movie on the huge flat screen for the last half hour and I can tell he’s bored of it. He’s been channel hopping, messing with his cell and laptop and moved position on the couch about a hundred times. He’s restless.

I’m reading one of the proposals for a small start-up Jake asked me to consider, and I’m fully aware he’s been avoiding conversation. I know that look on his face, a little wary and a little unsettled. He’s still unsure that we’re okay but I’m letting him stew by carrying on with work and avoiding chatter.

“Let’s go running?” his listless tone drags me from the papers in my hand and I sigh heavily.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you drag me out at six most mornings to jog with you, and I know you’re going to do it again tomorrow so I’m not doing it now.” I throw him my best moody glare.

“You suck,” he sighs childishly.

“Jake?” I laugh. “You do realize you’re my boss?”

“And?” he actually pouts, looking very much like a child about now.

“You’re behaving like a moody teen … Don’t you have any new bed buddies to pester?” I chastise, sighing loudly.

“Hmm.” He sounds uninterested. He never seems to find women that hold his interest long. My irritation rises because he has that air of frustration which I know only too well. I can practically time how long it

will be before his mood starts to really tumble and I get to be on the receiving end of grumpy ass Carrero.

“For god’s sake! … Okay!” I snap. This could go on all afternoon and I can’t focus when he’s being this way.

He grins and jumps up to go get changed into sweats. He’s a smug winner. Likes to throw his success at me with huge champion grins. I swallow down the tension inside of me.

Back to normal then.

I go to my room and change into workout clothes and running shoes, I grab a hooded top and walk back into the main room as he walks from his door. He’s in gray sweats and hooded top and as always looks so much younger and carefree dressed this way. Less playboy billionaire and more normal, good- looking guy going to the gym. He leads the way to the elevator, whistling the whole time in a far better mood and we head down to the main floor in companionable silence.

My cell vibrates and I haul it out to check, it’s a text from Sarah.

“Hey, are you home this weekend?”

We’re due to fly back on Friday so I reply that I’ll be around.

“I may need your DIY skills. I want to redo my room.”

I sigh; decorating is not what I planned with my first whole weekend off in a while, but Sarah is useless with a paintbrush.

“Okay. I’ll text later, I’m going for a run.”

I reply, not wanting to talk about this right now.

She sends me back some kisses and a smiley face and I slide my cell back into my pocket. I start smiling despite my mild irritation at her request. I do miss Sarah, despite how distant we’ve grown and lately I have started to feel it more than before. I have no idea why the change in me, but I am more aware of it. Aware of how cold I have been.

We exit the Four Seasons Hotel into the gloomy afternoon, and I fall into an easy pace beside him when we hit the pavement. It’s wet and muggy and gray. The air is cooler than it’s been the previous couple of days, and it forces me to jog a bit energetically to get warm. We stretched in the elevator but I’m still feeling stiff.

“Trying to race me?” he grins and pulls up his hood against the rain. The street is quiet and practically deserted, yet so picturesque despite the overcast sky.

“You’d have no chance.” I pull my hood up too, the drizzle isn’t too bad, sort of refreshing.

“First one to the museum wins.” He lurches into an impulsive run and takes off without waiting for my answer and I follow in hot pursuit. My heart is pounding as I try my hardest to keep pace, but his stamina and long legs soon beat me into retreat, and I have to stop to gasp air into my lungs. My throat and legs are burning from exertion and I have to bend my head down between my knees to stop the rise of nausea. He comes jogging back, noticing that I’ve given up.

“Lightweight.” He bends over beside me and pulls me over to him with an arm casually around my shoulders, making me stand up. He pushes his water bottle in my hand, and I accept it gratefully. Tugging me with him, we start walking slowly in the direction we had been heading as I catch my breath, already I’m sweating all over. I’m not as fit as I thought I was, and we have barely run three hundred yards at full speed.

“Shut up.” I breathe finally as my chest stops heaving and the nausea subsides. Throat clogged with over exertion.

“You need to get in the gym with my trainer … he’ll sort you out. Take care of that wheeze.” Grinning as he winks at me, he’s barely panting.

“Boxing is not my thing.” I shake my head; he still has his arm casually around my shoulders as we walk, our bodies leaning into one another side by side. To the average onlooker, we would probably look like a couple.

“Maybe it should be … It’s better than therapy. Why do you think I’m such a happy go lucky guy?” He winks.