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

That’s true. See, he’s a good shrink … he seems to understand.

“What’s wrong with me?”

That’s a good question to ask a shrink, as I want to know.

His face appears above me and I jump a little in fright; I wasn’t expecting him so suddenly, maybe it wasn’t sudden. I have been taking long pauses to daydream between replies. This is a weird angle, but even down here he looks gorgeous.

Why can’t you look ugly from at least one angle, Carrero? Even the odds up a little. Maybe have a double chin or something.

“Nothing … You deserve so much more than someone like him.” He seems serious, and just hot. Too hot.

“I’m part of him … I have his blood … But he didn’t want to know me.” I sigh dejectedly as he moves from above me and on to the couch beside me; he has a glass which clinks with ice and slides it on the low table to my left. He sits near my head so he can look down at my face and he’s no longer smiling. He seems blank.

“Does he want to know you now? Is that why he called?” he frowns once more, watching me pensively.

“He wants money.” I point out as a matter of fact.

Yes, as much as he can lay his grubby little hands on. Filthy, scum bag, gold digger.

“Money?” he pauses to watch me. His tone that of surprise.

“He thinks I’m loaded, because I’m always in the papers … with you … Probably thinks we’re in love.” I laugh at this little fact, but Jake doesn’t laugh, he just goes on watching me and sips from his own mug before looking lost in thought. I can smell coffee and guess he’s not drunk at all.

“Why are you chewing your lip like that?” I ask him, reaching up and prodding him gently in the dimple again. Jake has a touchable face. I’ve never noticed before how much his face cries out to be touched; there’s a beauty about his features, even his designer stubble, that makes your fingers itch to trace the lines and curves. He has a dimple on each side that should be investigated.

“I’m thinking, Emma … stop poking me in the face, woman,” he chides with a frown and I push at it a little harder with my pointer finger, irritated at him calling me “woman”.

Asshole!

finger and pushes it down. He

Mr. Hands-On, Carrero!

see if it will pass. I lay watching his green eyes in the dim light and wonder what he’s thinking about. Mesmerized by the way his eyes change with his moods. Sometimes they’re dark and almost brown, other times pale and almost aqua. Normally, they’re a very

can still see the hint of

deep

he’s my boss! I think

You’re drunk. You’re making very little sense, and your grabby hands are a little distracting. I think I need to put you to bed.” He’s not

does he

but they don’t look “grabby” at all. I was merely having a little feel of a beautiful thing. He sighs, pushing me to note he’s closer, leaning

I laugh at my own joke. It’s rather

… Crone …

me anymore. I notice that when he moves his jaw in any little way, his ear moves slightly and become fascinated by it. I wonder if all

a talent? Ear

I giggle again.

seriously lost your filter.” He laughs at me, looking at me in a “what am I going to do with my plastered PA” kind of way. I reach up to poke his dimple again, but he catches my hand and

Damn, he’s quick.

fingers alone,” I sound out properly in a British accent.

one of his favorite places to

making him laugh, when he smiles naturally like that it makes me want

could lick that smile, it’s so delicious. I want

drunk, I think I’ll get more sense out of you over breakfast.” He puts his mug down on the table with a decisive

want to sleep” I pout,

I have a duty of care.” He scolds

childhood sulky face still exists, I’m pretty sure it’s making a comeback. I try and swat his face and hands as he

it up. I think he’s frustrated with me, but I don’t care as I