The Carrero Effect - Falling for the Boss (Billionaire CEO) novel Chapter 86

He looks poster boy sexy, ruffled, but totally stressed; his arms are up and resting on top of his head in a pose that just screams “My life is fucking over”. I falter, but he says nothing, just sighs; still watching me and I force myself to walk into the room. I look around for his guest and note his door is shut.

“She’s in there … It was Marissa.” He points out darkly. I say nothing, just chew my lip nervously. My heart’s pounding so hard I think I may have a heart attack and I want him to stop staring at me. He’s making me even more nervous than I already am, dissolving my resolve.

“Are you done having your after-sex crisis?” his tone droll, I flinch at his words but ignore them and take a slow breath.

“I’m going running … I need some air.” I respond quietly. Unable to meet his eyes. Focusing on putting my iPod in my holder on my arm, and plugging the headphones in.

“How appropriate, Emma,” he sneers at me. I glare at him, but move to the side, to walk around the furniture for the door. He jumps up, leaping easily over the couch and standing face to face with me, blocking my route menacingly. He towers above me, anger all over his face and I hesitate. “I don’t think so.”

“What? You’re going to stop me from leaving?” I reel back in trepidation. A little unsure of him right now.

“If I have to.” He looks sardonic and I back off unsurely.

“You want a cozy chat with me and Marissa, do you?” I can’t help with the sarcasm; he’s knocked me off balance with his behavior and I’m just reacting.

Why am I being this way? … Why is he? What’s wrong with us? We should be able to just go back to before.

He steps back, seemingly stung by what I said and rubs a hand over his face, losing his menacing glare. He scrubs his fingers through his unruly hair, looking desolate and I get a twang of guilt and pity, but I steel myself to stay still.

“Things are fucked, Emma …” His voice wavers, he sounds exhausted, just like I am.

That’s an understatement if I ever heard one, and I’m heartbroken that he’s now only realizing this! He lifts his hand, cupping my cheek and runs his thumb across my mouth unexpectedly, causing me to flinch at his touch, at the surprise of such a tender motion. He withdraws as if I’ve scolded him, puts both hands into his pockets instead. He looks like a child and turns his face away, hunching his shoulders. It makes me ache to reach out for him, but I still my hands by my side. I have more control than this. I need to do this.

“Are you going to fire me?” I ask flatly; I need to know … I need to prepare myself. Figure out where I go from here.

“Why would you ask me that?” he snaps, his fiery green gaze on me, anger instantly returning.

Oh … I don’t know maybe because you’ve another woman sitting, waiting in your bedroom, and coitus is not part of my pre-arranged employment contract.

“I need to know where I stand.” Is all I say, cool and crisp, devoid of my betraying emotions. He snorts as if I’ve said something outrageous, then mumbles something that sounds like “you and me both”. I’m not sure, but I ignore it anyway.

“Why is she here?” I nod toward the door behind him fighting that inner twang of pain. Jealousy. He stops for a moment, as if he’s trying to find the words, then just says it.

“Marissa’s pregnant … I fucked up.” He blows it out.

It’s as though he’s punched me full force in the stomach, I’m reeling and dying all at the same time … Unable to really take in his devastated expression fully.

What the hell?

Nausea rises quickly and spins head, before I can grasp control. It’s as unexpected as the last time I fainted and fueled by the instant carnage of his words.

“Whoa, Emma.” He grabs my arms as I crumble and rights me against him, jumping the couch to stand flat on the floor with me, the familiar feel of his body and touch acting like an anchor for my spiraling mind, stopping me from fully blanking out.

“Sit.” He barks and yanks me around the arm and down toward the couch beside him, he draws me in, sitting me quickly. I grasp my face and sink my head between my knees, trying to push the tilting sensation away. Trying to stop the overwhelming urge to throw up.

“That doctor was fucking useless,” he hisses and rubs my back.

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Stop swearing.” I can’t lift my head just yet or I may actually die … I think I’m losing the ability to see. Everything is swimming and heat has washed up from my toes in a sickening wave. My body is tingling and not in a good way.

“You’re not fine, Emma …You’re getting seen by someone else.”

“Stop it!” I snap and sit up, swaying a little, grasping his wrist. “It’s dizziness, that’s all. I’ve had a shock okay … You just told me you’re going to be a father, just after we … For fuck’s sake.” I snap, and he stops dead; paling visibly, he slumps down and exhales slowly.

“You’re not the only one, okay.”