The Carrero Effect - Falling for the Boss (Billionaire CEO) novel Chapter 202

You’re killing me, Emma. I’ll do what you ask. Xxx I love you so much.

I don’t feel any better with his response, an inner wave of disappointment that he’s not trying to change my mind. Anger boils up inside of me, coming from nowhere, and with it the impulse to smash my phone off a wall.

What the hell is wrong with me? What is with my undying need to make Jake come after me and devour me?

It was the same when we fought after Arrick’s birthday. My anger wanted him to take me with a vicious passion, as though he had no control, and now here I am angry because he isn’t ignoring my wishes and pushing his way here to see me. It’s like I need the extreme from him. Maybe the lack of real love in my life growing up has caused this deep aching desire to have someone show their love in dominant ways. I can’t begin to analyze that right now. All I know is I want him to take away my decision to not see him, let his own needs takeover, that’s the Jake who swept me into his world. The guy who never took NO as an answer and pursued me regardless.

God. Maybe I do need therapy after all.

There’s a gentle knock on my door and Sarah pops her head around warily. Her eyes flickering over me in a very analytical way; she’s clearly assessing my mental state.

“Emma … honey? Are you up for a visitor? There’s someone here to see you.” She looks sheepish and my heart plummets in cold fear.

Oh, my God, he didn’t?! He couldn’t?! I really don’t want to see him. Forget all that pushing his way in stuff … NO!

She sees my face pale visibly and immediately cuts in.

“No, no, not him … God no … That girl you told me about. Leila?” She smiles in an almost terrifying effort at bravery and I sag with breathless relief.

Oh lord … Leila.

I get up and start adjusting my casual, rumpled, clothes self-consciously. I must look like a fright. My hair is wild, my face is tear-stained and puffy, God knows how crushed and dirty my lounge wear is. Sarah takes my fussing as a cue to let Leila come in.

Within seconds the whirlwind that is Leila bounds in, dressed from head to toe in a gray tracksuit with fur trim and silver sparkly trainers. She’s like my modern-day Fairy Godmother. A crazy combination of sporty woman and cute child. She practically knocks me over with the force of her hug and over energetic hand gestures.

“Jake is an actual fucking idiot.” She releases me enough to gaze up at me with angry eyes, carrying on her dramatic emphasizing sign language. “I told him as much before I threw the contents of his kitchen at him a couple of hours ago, complete fucking idiot … I swear. Him and that shithead best mate of his both need a major fucking brain overhaul.”

“Leila, you did what?!” I gasp in shock, unsure if this is what I really want Jake to be enduring right now. I can visualize her fiery little self, causing chaos in his immaculate kitchen with her mad temper. Images of her mounting a full-on arsenal of pans and cutlery flies through my head as Jake ducks and weaves to avoid collision.

“Yeah I did! It’s not like he can’t afford some new gadgets and a clean-up crew. I’m just sorry I have such a shit aim. He was stupid enough to tell me why you were no longer at the apartment; fuckwit!” She grins at me and I can’t help but smile back, beautiful, crazy, little Leila. I wish that smile meant she was joking but I know it’s unlikely. I would never like to be on the wrong side of that small blonde cyclone in full fury. I can only speculate that, despite his own ferocity even Jake was probably slightly scared.

“Please tell me you didn’t mark that face though? As much as I hate him right now it would be devastating to know you ruined it.” I catch her wrist as she fusses with my mess of hair and just shake my head out of her palms. I know this mess is beyond repair and her efforts are completely futile.

“Stop right now with that pouty look of despair, and no, I didn’t … Lucky for him he’s got fast reflexes. Pity his brain doesn’t have the same skills. We’re going to get you dressed up and go somewhere cozy, for cocktails, music, and a girl chat. It’s an order not a request.” She lets me go and starts yanking through the cases of clothes on my floor that I still haven’t had the heart to unpack; pulling dresses loose and holding them up to investigate.

“I really don’t think I’m up for this.” I balk at her, my voice on the pleading side. My stomach is doing somersaults at the mere thought of venturing into the public domain.