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

Chapter 84

Go away, Jake.

I silently pray.

“Emma, open the door … For the love of god.” He returns, his voice calmer, yet still booming through at me.

“Someone’s at the door, Jake …”

Go answer it and leave me alone to freak out. Leave me to calm down and stop shaking like a leaf.

I’m trying to sound cold and cool, but I’m petrified.

“I don’t give a fuck, now open the door … Why are you hiding?” he’s exasperated, hurt.

Why am I hiding? Because I’m scared … The overwhelming realization of what I’ve just done is drowning me. Jake’s anger and aggression are scaring me. I’m suffocating, and I can’t think straight. I can’t look at him … How could I? I’ve just seen every part of him naked and let him do things to me; intimate things … Pleasurable things!

For the first time in my life they didn’t feel wrong, yet I experience the most guilt and shame I’ve ever felt. It’s too much. My head feels like it’s going to self-implode, taking my body with it.

The buzzer goes again, only this time longer and repetitive, someone making it clear they have no intention of going away. He thumps the door once more, making me jerk, as he storms away, cursing. Whoever is out there is persistent, and he knows they’re not going to just leave.

I run to grab a robe, now that I know he’s gone. I’m vibrating all over and I know it’s not just from fear. My body is still reeling from what he did to me; the overwhelming climax that rocked my entire world.

I pull off the remains of my clothes until I’m fully naked and swathe myself in the plush bathrobe, hoping to feel more secure. Hoping to feel a slight releasing of this crazy cold fear.

There are voices in the room … I can’t make them out, but one is Jake and one sounds like it might be female.

Who’s he talking to?

My curiosity calms me, nosiness becoming the overriding emotion, pulling me out of my own head. A little green-eyed monster pushing herself out, knowing he’s with a woman out there and my suspicion is peaked. At least it means he’s leaving me alone, for that I’m grateful, but I need to calm down and pull myself together. I need to get my emotions in check. I’ve no idea what I’m going to do, I need to think, work out the next course of action, put it all back in the little black box.

I still hear the voices; they’re raised now, and I hold still. I strain to hear, but I’m scared to get too close to the door. I don’t know how to navigate this … I don’t know how to fix what I’ve done.

What happens now? I don’t want to be another one of his play mates, he picks up and drops on a whim … … How could that work when I’m with him all of the time? I pale at the sudden realization.

He won’t want me around anymore, if I’m just another fuck buddy. He never keeps any of them around; he doesn’t date anyone beyond a month at most, and never goes back to dating someone he’s seen before. Very rarely anyway. It’s not his style to back track. We can’t work together if this is what we do. Have done. He’ll replace me. Fire me.

I’m not sure I want to do that again anyway … I’m dirty and ashamed for letting this happen. I did what every other female on the planet does. I fell at the feet of Jake Carrero and gave him all of me. I am no better than any other women he has ever had sex with.

No, in fact I am worse!

I am a broken, emotionally messed-up woman who turns every little act into a huge brain fuck and over thinks every tiny detail. I am a woman who let herself fall for him, despite knowing what he is.

Why would he want to deal with all the mess that I am?

The voices in the room have moved away and I realize they’re more muffled than they should be. Whoever is here has been moved to his room, and he’s shut the door. I physically slump, knowing he would only take someone whose shared his bed into his room to talk. Someone here in a non- professional manner.

Despite all my inner chaos, this thought causes a sharp pain in my chest. I pull the robe tighter around me and slowly slide forward to unlock the door, peeking out as I do. I can see his from here and it’s shut, the sitting area clear. My hands trembling, I move out slowly, pulling the robe tighter. Fear giving way to paranoia as my gut aches with warning.

I can see the remains of my skirt and panties on the floor nearby and Jake’s clothes are still lying in a heap. Whoever came here would have seen them too.

I move out to try and listen. My turmoil held in check for the time being. I want to know who’s here and in his room with him. I want to know if it’s one of his play mates, even though I don’t have the right to care. It’s getting to me on extreme levels, jealousy eating away inside. Agonizing.

I get close enough to distinguish the voices and freeze as the raised clear voice that’s overly familiar to me hits me like a ton of bricks … That snarly, whiny, bitch of a voice.

I gasp as my ribs retract and my heart thumps against them painfully.

Marissa Hartley!

Fuck.

I hurriedly pick up the remains of my clothes from the floor and throw them in the bin. I leave his clothes folded on a chair in the room and discard the condom packet in the kitchen waste bin. I don’t know why I’m trying to hide this now, she’s already seen it, and I’m guessing by the raised voices, she’s making it clear.

Like a guilty, dirty secret, I’m his mistress and she’s the wife showing up and catching us. I’m scurrying around trying to erase what I’ve done; I’m also trying not to listen at the door and my heart is doing some sort of “Cha Cha” as I rush in circles. I’m completely out of control, all traces of PA Emma banished, my palms are clammy and cold, and I feel physically sick.

I creep back to my room and turn on the shower. I need to clean his smell off me, eradicate the memory of how he felt. I need to wipe away my shame and get back that cool calm PA who would know how to handle this … That’s one of her job skills … Handling awkward situations.

The water’s hot and harsh, but I don’t care. I want it to punish me. I want it to scold the crap out of me and take away the lingering feel of his touch, his skin on mine. His kiss, his hands, his smell … Him inside of me. I can’t bear to think about how it felt. Not now. Not ever.

I’m running … I know I am … Mentally pulling away at speed and ramming myself back into that tiny box in my head, that safe concealed, controlled box where my life is one long mass of tick boxes and orderly lists. No emotions and no complications. I can handle that life, because I control every part of it; there are no surprises, no unplanned events. No feelings that can rip your soul to shreds. No one to reject you.

Coming to work for Jake had been a mistake. From day one he made me question myself over and over, made me forget and lose my reserve, made me relax too much. He has a way of making me lose

sight of who I am and what I am doing. He let that part of me I lock away, slide out, and I hate it; he makes me feel unsteady and vulnerable and I can’t do this.

How can I go back to before? He’s unraveled me in so many ways. I’m more broken now than I ever was.

* * *

When I emerge, I’m wearing my workout clothes, a clear plan in my head and I’m more optimistic. Determined. I’m going to go running, clear my mind and get the hell away from him for a while, until I can reel in my thoughts and feelings. I also need to put a huge sea of space between Marissa and myself, simply because I can’t stand her, or the fact she’s here with him. I don’t know how she fits in, or what she means to him anymore. What I am in this mess. I don’t intend to find out. My heart is aching, but my defense system is connecting, and I just need air.

My damp hair is tied up the best it can be, now it’s so short, and my sneakers are on my feet. It’s quiet. I assume they’re still in his room, doing god knows what. I don’t even want to think about it.

I open the door, pulling my hooded top on and zipping it over my sports crop top in a distracted movement, but freeze as I catch sight of him sitting alone on the couch, facing my door. Pausing mid- movement, and then continuing to haul on my jacket, I try to ignore that he’s watching me in an unsettling, silent way. His expression bleak, he’s still topless, wearing jeans and bare feet and I gulp, so easily affected by him.