The Carrero Effect - Falling for the Boss (Billionaire CEO) novel Chapter 204

“I don’t know where we are; somewhere Leila brought us. Sarah’s here too but I think she’s dead.” I watch as she slides ungracefully off the bar where her body previously was, and she ends up in a disheveled heap on the floor, behind her bar stool between two men who are seemingly ignoring her. For someone who thinks Sarah might’ve died I don’t seem overly concerned. I trip toward her a little, stooping to see if she’s breathing, almost losing my balance, and nearly fall on top of her. “Never mind. She’s just snoring,” I slur down the phone with a dramatic sigh of relief. I slump down on my knees beside her to peel what looks like a beer mat off her cheek.

Yay, my friend isn’t dead after all. But that is disgusting.

I hold the beer mat out in front of me and squint, looking at the blurry, sticky vile thing, before tossing it casually over my shoulder and rub my hands, on Sarah’s dress.

“For the love of God, are any of the three of you capable of something coherent? Emma put Leila on,” Jake commands, the tone of his voice riling me a little.

You’re supposed to be groveling for my forgiveness, not barking commands, Dick. Asshole. Gorgeous, sexy asshole … But I still hate you.

“Jerk.” I sniff down the phone and I swear Jake growls … like, actually growl.

I find myself sighing and attempt to a walk toward Leila, rolling my eyes, my defiant chin stuck in the air, instantly confused when I’m face down on a leather booth seat after the wall I was using to keep me upright opened into nothing.

“Ouch,” I murmur as my face peels painfully from the seat. I realize my phone is squished to my face, and I can hear Jake rather loudly in my cheek, opening my eyes I’m blinded by the lit screen near my eyeballs.

“Did you just fall? What the hell …?! Emma, hello?! Okay, look, hang up but don’t leave that bar. I’ll find you my way.” It sounds more like a threat and when I go to reply I realize he’s disconnected my call.

Asshole! I didn’t ask you to come for me. I don’t want you to come for me! You don’t know where I am anyway so good luck with that.

I crawl onto the booth in which I’m already lying and curl up on the seat trying to get a hold on these damn infernal tears. I should call him back and tell him to go to hell, but I don’t want to, part of me wants him to find me, to come and take care of me. Wanting him to ignore my pleas to stay away and do what Jake does – Come charging in all dominant mode trying to bend my will to his. If he does that maybe my confusion can take a long walk off a short pier for a while, give my mind a well needed break.

I don’t like it here anymore and I think Sarah may really be dead, she’s not moved at all but as she’s too far away to get to, I’d rather rest first. I wiggle my feet out of my shoes and drop them on the floor, feeling an odd sense of heartache at this simple act. Jake always took my shoes off for me when I was drunk, he always took care of me regardless of his mood or sobriety. I hate that everything I do is plagued by him.

I sigh trying to wipe away the mess pouring down my face, resting my head against the wall and closing my eyes to block out the wave of people mulling around the bar and floor. For a small place, it’s crowded and really noisy, with a thick foggy atmosphere. Maybe if I just drown it all out for a few minutes then I could get my head straight and get us back home. Take Sarah home somewhere safe, to sleep in a position a little more natural and get Leila off that damn infernal bar so men stop trying to grope her.

* * *

“Emma, bambino, wake up.” Jake’s voice comes at me through the darkness and suddenly I’m aware of music, and people, and a lot of noise. Warm fingers trace my jaw and I push my face into them, rubbing like a greedy cat at the touch. I choke on the atmosphere and come to in complete confusion. I find my neck stiff from the angle I’ve been curled up in at the corner of the booth. “I’m going to lift you up okay?” warm, strong, familiar arms slide under my legs and behind my back and I’m hoisted up against the smell of my Jake, the feel of him, his warmth, and his strength like some fantasy dream. I close my eyes, nuzzling into him, wanting this dream to last forever. I want the safe and comforting feel of him surrounding me to last, keeping the horrible ache of not being with him at bay.

I come to my senses a little, aware of movement, and open my eyes suddenly, finding myself looking right at Jake’s face. Not a dream or a hallucination but really him and the pain of what that means right now is sheer agony. I choke back the gulf of emotions at seeing him again.

Bittersweet sums this up completely.

My chest feels like it might concave, and my heart has literally stopped beating. He looks beautiful, if a little tired and sexy and ruffled, yet completely here and familiar and safe.

We’re still in the bar and he’s carrying me out of the booth across the floor, my head is swimming, and I realize he did it; he found out where we are and came for me. Impulsively I reach out to that beautiful face and poke him in the cheek, checking that he’s real and not some sweet figment of my imagination. I always did like poking that man of perfection in the face, but he frowns at me with an amused expression.

How the hell did he do that? I shouldn’t be surprised with Mathews on his security he probably tracked my cell.