The Carrero Effect - Falling for the Boss (Billionaire CEO) novel Chapter 11

Crap.

I’m to do this while being stripped of all that makes me comfortable and confident.

“I see.” My insides turn icy cold and my face numbs.

“All you need to do is smile and look adoringly at me until we get into the suite where Daniel is staying.” Jake shrugs with one shoulder. He really sees no issue at all.

Yes, I’m sure that’s going to be easy.

“When are you leaving?” Margo presses, turning his hazy green eyes away from the scrutinizing he is doing over me.

“Now, if she needs to go home first … Where do you stay, Emma?” his eyes are back on mine, once again making me uneasy as he scans my attire.

I tell him where in West Sunnyside and he nods before moving off to call his driver. I hear him telling him to meet us at the rear of the underground parking garage as I try to pull myself back together.

“Take a notepad and pen in a handbag, anything else will look odd … It’s a preliminary meeting to thrash out the proposal, so take notes.” Margo soothes my nerves with a warm smile. Bringing my attention to her.

“Yes, Margo.” I answer blankly, head reeling with all of this and feeling overwhelmed suddenly.

“Emma?” She halts me with a gentle hand on my arm.

“Yes?” I pause at her sudden intense look.

“Try to relax around Jake … He’s actually very easy to hang out with.” She grins, but it does nothing to remove the tension building up inside of me.

I don’t want to hang out, I want to do my job.

* * *

Less than twenty minutes later, I’m in the back of a large SUV with tinted windows and I’m sitting mere inches away from him. My briefcase on my lap and a pen in one hand. I’m preoccupied, mulling over the weirdness of this request.

“That habit is at odds with how you present yourself, you know?”

I look up at his remark questioningly. The way he is regarding me, and half-smirking my way.

What the hell is he talking about?

I realize I have a strand of hair between my fingers, absent-mindedly twisting it. I drop it and still my hands on my lap, internally cursing him out.

For god’s sake …

It’s the being unprepared, it has me on edge.

Nice move, Emma.

I scowl at teen Emma, always peeking at me from the recesses of my mind and smile tightly in response.

“Nervous habit?” he presses further, looking smugger.

“I don’t get nervous, Mr. Carrero,” I respond drily.

Because I’ve spent many years perfecting the art of hiding it and for some reason, you bring it out in me when I’m not focusing.

“Do I make you nervous?” he smiles; he’s leaning back in his seat comfortably, an arm on the window ledge and looks effortlessly casual. Always annoyingly at ease.

“I would not say that, Mr. Carrero.”

What would I say?

Because he does make me nervous, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how to act around him sometimes.

“Do I intimidate you?” his tone is steady and quizzical, a hint of playful and it’s already tiring me.

Are we really doing this?

“I just don’t know you well enough to feel at ease around you yet,” I answer, impressed with my diplomatic response under the pressure of his gaze.