The Carrero Effect - Falling for the Boss (Billionaire CEO) novel Chapter 213

“We’re here, miele.” Jake lifts me from the car when I blink my eyes open. I’m sure it’s only been seconds since I closed them. I’m in his arms being lifted out of the car and the garage around us looks exactly like underground parking at his apartment, and I’m completely thrown.

“We’re home already?” I blink a few times snuggling closer into his strength still trying to get a grip on reality, confusion all over my face, severely disorientated.

“You fell asleep pretty quickly, bambino, you don’t look so white anymore, so I think it did you some good.” Jake brushes his mouth against my forehead with a soft smile.

What the hell is with the sleeping lately?

I close my eyes and let Jake carry me into the elevator and home. He’s right, I do feel better for having taken a nap. The nausea has subsided almost completely and now I just feel hungry. I know I should be fighting him to let me walk but my body and mind are in unanimous decision to let him do this.

I open my eyes when he lays me on the bed in his room. Nora has been in and cleaned up in that precise hotel-esque method of hers. The room is surprisingly comforting, and I take a breath feeling like I’ve returned home. I’m more than aware of the surge of happy elation it gives me and frown at myself.

“I don’t need to go to bed. I feel better and I’m hungry.” I smile as he slides down beside me on the neat sheets. I sit myself up a little, wary he might start wrapping himself around me, and cross my arms over my chest defensively.

“You’re staying here regardless. I’ll get you some food if you’re sure that’s what you want.” He frowns at me with a comical look on his face, his eyes take in my posture, and he moves away a little. Not that I blame him. Vomiting then asking for food isn’t exactly normal.

He lifts his fingers to my cheek, and I let them

linger there. “You still feel hot but you’re not so pale anymore.” The way his touch feels is more than enough proof that I should make it clear that I’m not ready for it.

“I guess the car just made me feel worse.” I shrug with one shoulder, nestling onto the bed a little more comfortably. I watch the way the sunshine comes into the room, lightening the color in his beautiful eyes to an almost transparent, gem-stone green. One thing Jake will always be to me is gorgeous, despite how much he has hurt me.

“Maybe.” Jake gets up and leaves the room,

telling Nora to make me something light. Nora replies saying something about home-made chicken soup, and I roll my eyes.

The two of them are acting like I have a terminal illness.

I swing my legs off the bed, standing quickly, to tell him how ridiculous he’s being and instantly crumble. My vision blacking out and my body losing all control, Jell-O legs and complete disorientation as I stand far too quickly.

“Shit.” I groan, feeling the cold wood floor connecting harshly with my limbs. I realize that I knocked my elbow, sharply, on the way down to my current crouching position.

“Emma? Emma … Fuck!” Jake’s panicked voice is followed by heavy boots running toward me and I’m being dragged up from the floor into his strong embrace.

“Did you fall? Why were you up? Are you okay?” He’s lifting me up onto the bed with him so I’m sitting in his lap, wrapped in him, aware my whole body has started to tremble and heat flushes across my face in a devastatingly horrible way; the rise of nausea strong again as dizziness gives way to coldness.

“I think it was a fainting spell,” I mumble weakly. “I don’t think I fainted, but I don’t feel so good.” I slump against his chest, knowing what’s coming next and I don’t have the energy or inclination to argue. I’m completely out of whack and ready to lie down and stay in bed just like he ordered.

“That’s it, this happened in the Hamptons and now this, Emma … I’m calling my doctor. Get into bed and do not move … I swear if you so much as lift your head there will be hell to pay.” He’s in snappy, bossy Carrero mode. He sweeps back the covers and lays me down in the open space, pulling my boots and sweater off, before covering me up gingerly. He looks stressed and wired and all I can do is smile weakly in return.

There he is … That’s my Carrero; a vision of domineering aggression in all his concerned beauty.

God I’ve missed you.