The Carrero Effect - Falling for the Boss (Billionaire CEO) novel Chapter 80

I punch it in quickly before I change my mind and scan a list of names. Marissa is near the top; he’s been texting her recently.

What am I doing?

I notice a couple of other female names and feel instantly sick.

Why am I doing this?

I hesitate again and click Marissa’s name … The last text is from her to him. I pale as I scan it, knowing how stupid this is, but now I can’t unsee it.

I still love you Jake … We can make this work, I’m so glad this happened between us, a new beginning. xxx

It’s from two days ago and I feel physically nauseous. I close the screen, my hands shaking, and I slide it back on the desk. My breath instantly labored and my heart is fluttering.

Shit. I shouldn’t have looked; I shouldn’t have pried.

He’s sleeping with Marissa again. The tone suggests she was a past conquest. Maybe more.

The thought bothers me so much more than red head, or any other female I’ve ever known him with. Although that didn’t sound like nothing … That sounds like more than just sex. She told him she loves him … Jake never does love, he moves on quickly, so it never gets to that point.

How long has he been seeing Marissa, for love to be involved? Was that why she was being that way on the boat? Was he seeing her even then, behind Richard’s back? Even while kissing me?

I rub my face and realize my cheeks are flaming. I’m dizzy and sick. I shouldn’t have done that. I need to eat … Maybe it will make me feel less faint. I’m hot, stifling; maybe I need a glass of water. All I know is that I am out of sorts and the room is claustrophobic so suddenly. I get up to move from the table and the swirling dizziness hits me out of nowhere.

Shit.

I reach out to grab the table and miss.

* * *

“Emma? … Emma?” Jake’s voice comes at me from far away. I flutter my eyes open and realize there are several faces above me. Hemming in like a bad dream.

What the hell?

Jake’s holding my skull up with one hand and pulls me slowly to sit, a hand sliding behind my back to support me.

“Are you okay?” He’s pale and seems stressed. I realize I’m lying on the floor of the office I was in, my head still spinning, and the scratchy carpet is irritating my skin. Some of the suits move back as I struggle upright, held by Jake’s strong arm as he kneels over me. I have no idea what’s going on.

“I just felt a little light-headed.” I try, but sound childlike, trying to make excuses. I feel so odd. Like this is all some weird dream. I don’t think I’ve ever fainted before and if that’s what this is, it’s surreal. I can only assume that’s what happened and why I’m on the floor with no memory of how.

“Emma, you full blown passed out.” Jake studies my face with a scrutinizing frown, not giving me any room at all.

“I missed lunch,” I answer weakly, confused by what’s going on, I don’t remember even falling. I don’t feel so good, I’m shaking inside and it’s spreading to my hands. Someone passes Jake a glass of water and he holds it to my mouth like I’m incapable.

“Drink,” he commands. Bossy pants is back; I don’t argue and take a sip anyway. Heat radiating from my face and adding to my wooziness; this is so embarrassing. He’s still holding me like fine China and I’m conscious of the many faces and quiet whispers all around, watching me, watching us.

“We’re going back to the hotel right now. I want a doctor to look at you.” Jake is oblivious to anything but the marching orders he’s issuing me.

“No … No, Jake, honest. I’m fine. I just need to eat.” My voice is wavering and weak, I don’t feel right at all, sleepy almost. I take a breath and the creep of heat expands over me, maybe that’s got something to do with this too. “I’m just too hot,” I stammer as he leans forward and starts unbuttoning my jacket with one hand, easing it off for me. Someone hands him a damp paper towel, and he holds it behind my neck; it feels good, it helps a little to clear the fogginess and I start to come back to reality.

The swimming head is starting to pass. I notice there’s still an audience and frown, he follows my gaze and looks up as though for the first time noticing the men in suits.

“Can you all give us a few minutes … Give her some space,” he commands. There’s a mutter of chatter and they all file back through to the other room. Except it’s a glass wall and I’m aware of the eyes still being cast this way.

Crap—that’s never going to go away now, I bet everyone in the building hears how Carrero’s PA flaked out over a simple contracts brief.

“I can get up.” I try, but he stops me.