The Carrero Effect - Falling for the Boss (Billionaire CEO) novel Chapter 193

“Oh, my God! Leila get down!” I’m laughing so hard my sides hurt as Leila dances along the bar top shimmying and singing full pelt into the wireless mic of the karaoke machine. She’s in full rock star mode, strutting her stuff like a coyote ugly wannabe. Sarah is so drunk she’s sprawled over the bar; laughing at my poor attempts to control the wild petite blonde.

“Leave her alone honey, she looks mighty fine up there.” Some sleazy fat man grabs my wrist tugging my arm from Leila’s leg and I recoil in disgust at his touch. His eyes travel up under the dress she borrowed from me to wear and my repulsion grows into something more empowering; seething anger. I elbow him hard in the ribs and stand back with a feisty glare when he comes around at me. “What the hell is wrong with you? Crazy bitch!” He moves in angrily, but my inner anger and psycho switch clicks on, pulling my height up to its full length in readiness, too drunk to care about what I’m doing or any subsequent consequences.

Bring it on asshole!

“That’s enough. Do you need me to escort you out, Tom?” The bartender cuts in, sliding the empty glass away from the man, with a warning glare. The man snaps his attention to the burly tender, with his bulging muscles and no-nonsense expression, and sneers my way.

“Fucking bitch … No. I’m going anyway.” The chubby older man turns on his heel and stalks off, leaving me feeling a little smug. I’m trying to ignore the deep welt of pain growing inside of me, managing to convince myself that it has nothing to do with the anger inside of my broken heart. Anger is a good emotion for me right now. It’s pushing away the melancholy from the last few hours. I’ve been thinking about Jake almost every second, despite the alcohol fueled party mood that Leila has inflicted on me, and I’m trying my hardest not to let it show for fear of Leila’s wrath.

“Try not to get yourself into a fight honey. Some of the regulars can be prissy as shit.” The tender winks at me and moves off to tend to the crowded bar. I glare after him, drink bringing out this alarming inner rage from inside of me, rather than my merry carefree drunken Emma.

What would Jake think of drunk Emma like this? Wouldn’t like her very much, would he? This is more like Drunk Teen Emma.

Leila is still singing her heart out but the song switches to something slower and now she’s swaying around up there. I’ve given up trying to reach her now she’s moved further along the bar, which spans the whole room and turns in a U shape along the other side. I have no idea how she’s still upright considering we’ve been here for hours and drunk enough alcohol to render the three of us unconscious.

My legs ache from our dancing attempts and I have the head of a drunk girl, wandering around the crowded room aimlessly. I have a fuzzy almost dream-like haze going on with my consciousness and I just want to lie down. I am suffering the effects of my drink and the room is spinning and swaying around me. I hold onto the bar for support, and stand slumped, watching the room, a little detached from reality.

She starts belting out a love song rather tunefully, a little flat in places, but she’s giving it her all and enjoying herself, so I sit down to listen. It takes only a moment to realize it’s a song Jake has sent me in the past.

Pink, ‘Give me a Reason’

It hits me like a punch in the stomach, winding me, bringing the huge weight of agony back to the forefront of my mind. Emotion heavy in my chest, I let out a long heavy breath to hold back the new onslaught of tears prickling behind my eyes.

I miss him so damned much. I wish he was here right now. Why did he have to infect every part of me with his presence?

I realize, suddenly, I don’t like being drunk anymore. I only ever drank with Jake because I knew he would take care of me, and my little bubble of bravado well and truly pops. I hate being in a bar, without my protector, surrounded by strange men, who stare and sleaze over the women around them. I’m vulnerable and emotional. The last thing I should’ve done was come here and get so drunk. I feel so powerless and small.

Now I’ve started this monsoon of depressed feelings I can’t seem to switch it off. I watch Leila for a moment and see, almost with new eyes, the way the men around the bar are looking up her dress, checking out her ass, almost drooling with every little movement she makes. Male eyes check out every girl that walks by, all with the same leering stare and licking of lips. Like animals searching our prey and it sickens me.

I feel nauseous, so aware now of how awful this is. We’ve left ourselves vulnerable in a lions’ pit, too drunk to function and take care of ourselves and in this moment, I’ve never wanted Jake beside me more than right now, to take care of me. Sarah’s passed out, Leila is surrounded by hordes of drunk men, and I’m so out of my depth an edge of panic starts coming on, the old Teen Emma freaking in my mind.

I haul out my cell in my drunken haze, noticing the wetness on my chin and wiping it with surprise, unaware tears had even been falling. The phone sways in my vision, my focus shot, and I try to make the screen less blurry by holding it at various distances.

“You all right beautiful?” A male voice comes considerably close to my ear, I recoil as his warm breath hits my neck, revulsion creeping over my skin like a moving tide of cringe.

“Piss off and get away,” I snarl, all claws, hissing and recoiling against the bar. I’m in full defensive Emma mode and feel like I’m hemmed in by over-sexed sleaze bags who wish to touch me. I’m prickling with angry energy.

“Fuck you, lesbo!” he snaps and moves along to try his luck with the next one. That knot of anxiety stays well and truly tightened within me, my body tense.

Charming. Dickhead.

I stab at the phone manically, unsure if I’m managing to call anyone at all, suddenly desperate for him to be here. I can hear ringing, so I put it to my ear and hold my breath.