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

Chapter 23

My brain swivels forward, drunkenness opening doors and letting my mind lose control. My mother with her various men and I recall their faces swimming past me in a rush, like a subway train until it stops on one looming grin that causes me shiver internally. That looming face which sometimes wakes me in the night with terrifying dreams. The ever-present face of my nightmares and terrors.

“Why?” he asks, bringing me back to the present and I focus on Jake, pulling myself out of my head. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed twirling a strand of my loose hair between his fingers. It makes my scalp tingle and draws my full attention to his strong form, so close to me, smelling so very good and uniquely him.

“She thinks about things I don’t want to think about.” I sigh quietly. Sadness overcoming me with the wave of fatigue.

“Like fathers who weren’t around?” he seems softer, warmer. Jake always asks me things about my past, I wish he didn’t but tonight it doesn’t feel so bad. So scary. I want him to stay and talk to me, not go to his room with that awful “Crone”. I want him here with me.

“And people called Ray.” I let out a long heavy breath at the mention of his name, the looming devil is still watching me inside my own head. Evading my closing doors, his lip curling back to reveal his snarl. The bile rises in my throat as the fear travels up my legs and I shiver.

“Ray?” The confused husky voice distracts me.

“Ray, who beats up girls and tries to molest them.” I whisper, afraid of saying it out loud in case the monster hears me.

Why did I start thinking of Ray? Stupid, Emma, very stupid!

I don’t like brandy anymore; it breaks down the walls of my carefully built black box and lets things that I locked up tight run loose.

A warm touch on my arm pushes it back to the distance; it’s soft and delicate and sends a soothing sensation through the fear, bringing me back to here and now. It helps Ray’s face move back into the shadows, where he belongs.

“Emma, why did you never tell me any of this?” Jake’s voice is pained. I don’t recognize his tone; concerned and breathy but I’m experiencing the tug of drunken sleep falling over me despite everything running through my head. His touch too calming, and it’s making me fall into peaceful darkness. My eyes get heavier and the bed sways like a cradle, pulling me away from his voice. I can’t fight it.

“Don’t tell Emma I told you … She will be really mad.” I whisper, urging my Jake to keep our secret.

Naughty teen, Emma? How did you get out?

I try and haul her back down into the shadows with me as darkness overtakes us both but all too soon, I am lost.

***

The sun piercing tiny slices through the drapes is worse than having salt poured in my eyes. The nausea hits as I try to sit up and my mouth waters crazily. My cell is by the bed, and I realize it’s been switched off; I never switch it off, I don’t even know what time it is and I could have missed a multitude of calls.

I swallow down the bile and reach for the glass beside my bed, lukewarm water will have to do. I know I should remember last night but after my third drink on the couch I don’t remember much else. I don’t do hard liquor, so it’s no surprise.

I’m a total lightweight.

I know at one-point Jake came back; I think.

Maybe.

I have strange images of him leaning over me with his tie hanging free; I’m not even sure if it was a dream or a memory from another time.

I shower fast to combat the dizziness and ram toast and paracetamol down my throat in the sitting area in a bid to recover quickly. The place is silent, and I guess Jake is still in bed. I remember Felicity is here, I forgot about her; I always try and ignore his female guests. At least I slept through her screaming for once which is the only upside to my hangover.

My head winces every time I move and I’m having to sip water to keep the gag reflex at bay. I’m regretting drinking brandy immensely.

What the hell was I thinking? Why did I let it get to me that much? Why did I let that idiot get under my skin?

I have more resolve than that, but I think it was the shock. It’s been twelve years since his last contact and although I knew he would resurface one day, I hadn’t expected it yesterday.

I’m wearing workout clothes as I intend to hit the gym when the nausea subsides to sweat this out of my system. I’m glad we don’t have any meetings today, nothing planned until this evening with a late client dinner. I might be able to get through it if we’re working from here.

It’s gone 9.00 a.m. and wonder why Jake’s not up. Even on weekends he never sleeps past six, even with a hangover, and this isn’t like him.

I don’t have to ponder it for long, as he appears, walking in the door, wearing sweats and a T-shirt soaked in sweat. He’s already been down at the gym and has a towel draped around his neck. He is bright and cheery as usual; he’s a morning person, something I’m not and never have been. I smile with effort as he walks in, grimacing as I just feel awful.

“Morning, shorty,” he smiles back.

“Morning,” I mumble.

“How’s the head?”

“Sore.” I sigh and wince almost in reply.

“There’s painkillers in the bathroom.” He flashes me a happy smile as he walks past the couch.

“I got some already.” I shake a packet in the air as proof.

“Have you eaten?” he walks across toward the kitchenette intent on whatever he is doing. Always at home in our suites.

“Yup …”

“Good. Quickest way to recover from a hangover. Can you order me some breakfast, I’m going for a shower?” He’s at the fridge drinking a bottle of water, before throwing me a Jake special “I’ll floor you with my sexy” smile and raised eyebrow in way of thanks and stalks off to his room.

I wonder where Miss. Crane is as I watch his rather too pert ass sauntering away and guess she’s still asleep. Jake must have exhausted her last night, and it instantly pisses me off. Killing any good mood, I may have thought of having today.

Ughhh!

* * *

He eats breakfast in the sitting area while reading through papers, in his trademark jeans and T-shirt, he’s barefoot and his hair is still ruffled and damp from his shower. He looks nothing like the CEO of the company I first met, and every bit a random guy on a weekend. It somehow feels a bit too domestic.

Felicity is sound asleep in his room giving us some much-needed peace before her screeching voice grates on my nerves again. I am glad of her absence, for some reason her presence today is annoying me, way more than normal.

He doesn’t seem intent on any kind of work yet, and I’m glad. I’m trying to stay as still as possible, laying in my space on the couch beside him It’s the only way the nausea and sore head are bearable and I’m trying to concentrate on the laptop on my thighs. The screen won’t stay in focus and I’m finding it hellish. I sigh, sliding it onto the table and lay down properly, resting my head on the cushioned arm. He gives me a knowing smirk and I glare at him in response. I’m so not in the mood for him to take the piss right now.

Yes, I’m hungover, Jake. So, what!

I should maybe remind him of how many times I’ve seen him legless and stumbling into hotel rooms at stupid o’clock. I’ve seen sunglasses wearing, grouchy, next day Jake, many times over the past few months.

He finally puts down his mug of coffee and financial times and throws a glance at me. He shifts in position into his “I’m getting ready to chat” pose and I groan inwardly. I’m suffering, and I would really like to stay silent for the entire day.

Cool composed Emma is on holiday right now.

“You want to talk about last night?” he looks me straight in the eye, all Mr. Serious and my hair stands on end.

“Last night?” A memory of it for a start, might be helpful.

He watches me carefully and I shift in my space, a little uncomfortably, unsure what’s so engrossing. Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

What did I do last night besides getting smashed? What does he want to talk about?

“Drunk Emma as fun as she was isn’t someone I’ve ever met.” He eyes me accusingly. I already feel apprehensive about his tone.

“Or will likely to again, seeing as I feel like hell.” I grimace and haul my arm over my eyes, so I don’t need to look at him, he’s studying me a little too intensely.