The Carrero Effect - Falling for the Boss (Billionaire CEO) novel Chapter 214

Jake is right, less than half an hour later the lovely Doctor Rachael Brown is shown into the room to examine me. I

tell her there’s no point evicting Jake as he’ll only linger, asking questions, at the closed door every two minutes distracting her from her job. He has an air of command oozing from him and he’s in a no-nonsense mood. He’s already hanging at the side of bed with a grim expression on his face, as though he wants to beat someone.

“Doctor.” He nods her way and watches her like a hawk.

She smiles, indulgently, and gives me a sympathetic look. I guess she’s met a few overprotective men in her career and looks like she can handle the Carreros of this world.

“So, now, how can I help here?” She smiles sweetly, her voice as smooth as honey, with one perfectly manicured hand she runs a stray copper hair back into her neat French roll. She looks more like one of Jake’s top executives than a doctor.

“She’s passed out more than once recently, this morning being the latest and she vomited when we were out earlier. Something is just off with her. I can feel it. She never gets sick.” Jake’s husky tone and narrowed gaze is almost impaling her hands. He’s watching intently as she moves a stethoscope toward me.

“You know she’s not going to stab me with it, right?” I giggle at him and watch his facial expression soften slightly. He gives me half a smile and the doctor smirks from the corner of her mouth as she encourages me to pull down the sheets so she can get to my chest and abdomen.

Jake walks over to his wardrobe and comes back with a T-shirt. I’m just wearing underwear right now, so he holds it out to me as the doctor moves behind me to listen to my back and I slide it on over my head awkwardly.

“Do you have any other symptoms or concerns?” She’s gazing at me intensely, checking my throat and glands, generally fluttering around my body while she listens to me. Her hands are surprisingly soft and warm and completely non-intrusive despite being all over me.

“I want to sleep an awful lot, constantly feel exhausted, a little weak I guess, and I’ve noticed I’m hungrier than normal.” I sigh and catch Jake’s eyes narrow even further. I know he’s accusing me of not telling him something important. It’s not like wanting more food and being crazy tired is a symptom of anything but emotional exhaustion and insomnia. So he can take that glare elsewhere! I narrow my eyes back at him and I’m met with that stubborn furrow of his brow.

“Hmm, mmm, hmmm.” The doctor pulls something from her bag, a book, and jots some things down.

“Anything else? Tender anywhere? Unusual behaviors or cravings?” She’s not looking at me but instead rummaging in her bag pulling out some bottles and vials then moving to stand.

“Um … not that I can think of.” I hate being put on

the spot when I haven’t really been paying attention to my own body. “I’ve been distracted with other things lately, so I’ve not really taken much notice of anything like that,”

I explain, smiling. But then I catch Jake’s glare dissipating, he looks completely guilt ridden and hangs his head a little. The effect is devastating, and a surge of ache hits me hard.

I want to reach out and cuddle him and make it go away. He looks so forlorn.

“I think some urine and bloods might be a good idea. Then, some more questions and a more thorough work up. Are you okay with that?” She blinks at me with a professional smile and I nod. I catch Jake in the corner of my eye; hands in pockets, leaning back against the flat gray paintwork with the air of a guy who has no will to do anything but wait and watch. He’s obviously mulling things over in his head; lost in his own regrets and guilt. I want to pull him out of it and wrap myself around him. But the doctor’s hands jolt me back to what she needs to do right now.

During the next half hour, she examines me thoroughly, questioning me endlessly about my daily routines and other things that don’t seem to have much relation to tiredness and extreme hunger. She takes blood and asks me to urinate in a cup which is awkward, given that the act of standing makes me feel too lightheaded. Jake tries to come to my rescue but there’s no way I want him to watch me peeing in a cup. I hold him back with a raised palm, hating the look of pain that flashes across his face, he must think I’m refusing his help because of what has happened this last week. He moves back to his deflated posturing against the wall, sinking into a quiet somber mood; I hate him this way.

The doctor takes away everything she has collected, all cups and samples and moves to the oak unit that sits against the bedroom wall. She is spending a long time pouring, dipping, and using other chemicals and powders in her chemistry kit. It’s fascinating to watch her, and it reminds me of the scientists in CSI.

She has a very serious expression while she dips and tests and writes down notes, then picks it all up and takes things to the bathroom to clear it up. No one has said a word in what feels like an eternity, there are long tense silences and the apartment is eerily quiet; despite Nora being out there somewhere. We wait patiently while she disposes of things in the trash and washes her hands in the sink for at least five agonizing minutes.