The Carrero Effect Trilogy

Chapter 23

I'm finally home, and I'm standing in my apartment. Sarah isn't here, as usual, only this time, it vexes me. There's a crapload of man things scattered throughout the apartment, and that rank smell of Marcus's aftershave is over everything. I'm also aware that the whole time I've been gone, I have only heard from her via text, briefly asking about my mother. I know I shouldn't be upset; I barely check in with her, but I assumed I would have had at least one call since I haven't been home in more than a week.

I march to my room and throw my suitcase down in agitation. I have two days at home for a change as Jake is shooting off to see his momma for her birthday. For once, I'm not being dragged along for the occasion. I know Jake loves his mother and wants some alone time with her; he plans to take her on a shopping and spa day for her and her two sons.

My room is depressing after weeks of jumping between grand hotels and Jake's apartment for quick changes and flight stop-overs. I miss his apartment, the view from his comfy ivory tower, and the city lights stretching below. My room is claustrophobic. And it doesn't help that there are mountains of clothes piled on three surfaces, as I would come home, throw out the contents of one suitcase, and pack another before leaving again.

My cell beeps, and I open the text, surprised to see Jake's name already. We've barely left one another, and I still wear my dress from the dance: red satin, floor-length, all boobs and shoulders on show.

"What are you doing?" it reads.

Maybe he's bored already; he's feeling listless and unsettled like me. I've been home less than an hour, and already I'm itching to get out of these four walls. He's supposed to be getting an early night for his trip home tomorrow, but I send a reply with a smile on my face.

"Staring at a sea of pointless clothes and wondering how I will wrestle Donna's gold card away from those itchy fingers."

"Can I come stare with you?" His reply makes me smile, and that usual warmth grows in my chest.

My poor boss is losing the ability to socialize with ordinary people beyond me. What am I doing to him?

It's still early, so I guess he isn't ready for sleep. I know I'm not.

"What's the matter, Mr. Carrero? Are you lonely in your ivory tower without me?" I text back.

"Maybe." His reply is instant. I stifle a giggle; he's impossible at times, like a child who needs my constant attention, unable to satisfy his boredom. I wonder where all his buddies and playthings are tonight? Surely, he can't have only me to hang out with.

"If you're that bored, how can I deny you my sparkling company?" I have to admit, I miss him already. I'm so used to his constant presence that standing here alone feels alien.

"Are you home alone?" His replies are swift, and I can't help but grin.

"Aren't I always?"

He knows about Sarah's almost constant absence, yet he knows that Marcus hangs around even when she isn't here.

"I'll be there in 20 minutes," he replies.

I close my cell and look around with a critical eye.

Should I clear up? It's only Jake.

I giggle at my lack of concern in this matter.

When did I start thinking this way, "It's only Jake?" How many weeks ago would I have panicked at the thought of Jake Carrero in my apartment?

There's a noise at the door, and I'm surprised he's here already; it's been less than five minutes, and I'm sure he won't have been waiting outside. I hear the door open; it can't be him. He doesn't have a key, and he's not rude enough to walk in, even if he did; he's not that kind of creepy at all. He has impeccable manners.

I walk out of my room and come face to face with the sleazy Marcus, all floppy curly brown hair and sulky brown eyes with an unshaven face, carrying a brown grocery bag.

Great. So now he has a key.

"Marcus," I exclaim drily. He seems shocked at my arrival and throws me a nervous tight smile. His slight frame meanders into the kitchen to dump the bags.

"Emma, you're home for once. I started to think you were never coming back." He grins with his lopsided, toothy mouth, eyes appraising me openly, and I shudder.

"I'm guessing you're living here now if my whereabouts have become your concern," I reply flatly, anger simmering inside me. Sarah has no right. She should have at least asked me if I minded. I despise this guy on standard terms, but his living here is worse.

"Sarah and I decided to give it another go, and as she works a lot, we figured this would give us our best chance at working it out."

Great. Thanks, Sarah.

I'm seething internally.

"She didn't think I should know?" I thinly veil the venom in my voice. My voice is tight and haughty and holds nothing back of my dislike. I can't stand this wiry, curly-headed, out-of-work actor freeloading from my friend in our home.

"Why?" he responds belligerently, and I push down the urge to throw something at his head.

"Because it's half my apartment, and I pay half the bills," I retort, incensed at his nerve.

"We kinda figured you would be moving out, seeing as you're shacked up with your boss," he smirks at me as his eyes do the usual route from my cleavage down to my ankles and slowly back up. He makes me sick. I'm beyond livid. Sarah knows that nothing is going on between Jake and me. I swallow the urge to slap him across his messy head, tightening my fingers into fists by my side while swallowing hard.

Smarmy prick.

"I'm not shacked up with my boss! I work for him, that's all," my voice full of hatred, my teeth clenched.

"Yeah, sure." He's eyeing me in that 'know it all,' sleazy manner that makes my skin crawl, his eyes seeming to say, "I can imagine you screwing him in all those fancy hotels."

"Fuck you, Marcus! You know nothing!" I turn on my heel and stamp back into my room, anger threatening to burst out. I just cannot be bothered with him or a fight.

Asshole. I can't stand that weaselly little prick. What the hell is Sarah thinking?

He has the good grace to disappear into Sarah's room, and I'm left to change quickly and diffuse the rage. I'm glad I have a lock on my door as I don't trust men like him who undress me with their eyes; they always make my skin crawl.

Pushing thoughts of Marcus away as a minor irritation, I change into jeans and a T-shirt and leave my hair in a loose ponytail so I can focus on the task. If I'm going to be clearing out a mountain of clothes, I would rather be comfy. It's not lost on me that a few months ago, I didn't even own jeans; Jake sarcastically mentioned that fact early on.

What has Jake Carrero done to me?

Opening my door so I can listen for Jake's arrival, I haul a pile of clothes from the top of my dresser and dump it on my floor, followed by subsequent piles around my room.

Jesus, that's a lot of clothes!

The resulting pile is almost half as tall as I am. I need to clamp down on this excessive buying of Donna's; it is abusing the company assets, spending so much on stuff I don't need. I haven't even worn half of the things she sends my way. I'm like her human-sized dress-up doll.

I put my iPad in the docking station and turn on some music: a random mix of popular songs that I like and the ones Jake has sent me over the months, our weird form of communication. I smile at some of the titles, lifting my mood again as I scroll through, able to pinpoint the memory or the reason he sent each one.

I don't hear Jake arrive, but Marcus lets him in, and then he's standing in my bedroom doorway, looking muscular in a red T-shirt and jeans over sneakers. His presence, as always, makes me instantly happier.

"Hey," he smiles, then throws a wary look and thrusts his thumb over his shoulder, indicating he's asking about Marcus. I shake my head and shrug; he knows I don't like him. He frowns in response as I turn my attention to the piles on the floor of my neglected bedroom.

"You weren't wrong; I think Donna has dressed you for a year," he exclaims, sprawling out casually on the floor beside me. It looks odd with him sitting on the floor among a sea of girls' clothes in a girly bedroom.

"Whose fault is that Mr. 'Oh, buy her an outfit for this, that

, and the next thing' every time you see her?" I poke at him with a giggle.

"Maybe I should tell her to ask you when you need something from now on?" He holds his hands up in mock apology.

Too much money and not enough sense.

"That would be an idea," I smirk, raising a brow.

"Get rid of what you don't want." He pulls a dress from the pile and holds it up to admire it, thrusting it down to pick up lingerie instead, with a smile and a dirty wink.

"Most still have tags, Jake. Donna should return them." I snatch the bustier from him and throw it toward my dresser, where my lingerie lives. His raised eyebrow is not lost on me, but I ignore it. I don't want Jake ogling my underwear.

"Just give them away, Emma; they're already paid for," he shrugs.

"Jake, there's thousands of dollars worth of stuff here," I implore with frustration. He has no concept of money sometimes.

"And?" he says as if to prove my point. I forget that he probably spends more than that on one piece of jewelry for a passing date. He's always been generous in that way.

"So, I should just donate it? What I don't need?" I ask sardonically, really not amused with his lack of care.

"They're your clothes, Mio Amore." He shifts on the floor to pick up another dress, this time having a closer look at it and then looking at me. He's trying to remember if I've ever worn it. I throw him a disdainful look and start throwing items toward the door for donating; this feels so wasteful. I don't even want to tally up the costs of half of this, and apart from Sarah, I don't know anyone I can give them to.

"You've never worn this?" He raises an eyebrow at me, so I look over at what he's holding. "Nope."

"Why not? It's nice, kind of cute, yet sexy." He's still admiring it, and I frown to survey it properly.

"Where would I wear it?" It's a romantic, floaty dress in a short, flirty style in a lovely deep red shade. It's not exactly formal, but it's not exactly casual.

"Take it with us on our trip. Parade around on deck for me in it." He puts the dress on the bed as though he's decided it's coming on the trip, regardless of my view on the matter; sometimes, Jake can be exasperating. I can't argue; it's a lovely dress perfect for a vacation.

"Just the two of us?" I ask warily. I've been wondering about this since I agreed, churning it over nervously.

"Not if that makes you uncomfortable; I have friends we could invite. If you want a crowd, my father's yacht has six double cabins." He's still looking through the clothes on the floor with too much dedication.

Maybe the thought of just the two of us alone for two weeks on a boat is bothering me. There is no work to converse over, nothing to distract me from my mind, and no boundaries and rules to keep things in check. I think he's hit the nail on the head. "Who would you invite?" I ask.

"Daniel, a couple of the guys I sometimes take trips with, and whoever they want to bring. I was also thinking of Leila Huntsberger. That way, you could meet Sophie's new sister." He cocks his head at me, and I smile gratefully. I would really like that a lot.

"So, they'll all be couples?" I press warily, not sure how this will work.

What if Jake wants to hook up while we're there?

"Really, Emma?" he sighs, "What do you think I'm going to do? Try and seduce my PA because couples surround us, and I'm incapable of abstaining from sex. I may always be trying to flirt with you, but I'm not an idiot; I know where the boundaries are, Bambina." He seems exasperated for a moment.

If I am completely honest, I'm not sure that would be a reason to refuse. I'm anxious about all the possible outcomes and not having control or planning.

"No, it's just … it will be awkward." I don't look at him. I keep sorting random clothes from the pile. Jake has stopped and is leaning against my bed, watching me.

"Why?"

"They might think we're …" I hesitate and catch his eye. His relaxed pose accentuates that upper body mass, and I glance away quickly, always caught off guard by my hormones.

"Who cares what they think? I don't give a shit what anyone thinks, Emma. I need a break, and so do you. Stop overthinking and agree. Besides, they're my friends; they'll know immediately that we're not screwing." He slides his hands behind his head, frowning at me and shrugging a little angrily.

"Okay, for God's sake." I put my hands up in defeat; he's so cranky tonight. Then I throw him an apologetic look before adding, "Don't laugh, Jake, but I don't own anything I could wear on a beach or a yacht."

His face breaks into the biggest smile I've ever seen.