The Carrero Effect Trilogy

Chapter 20

"Baby, wait until I'm back to do this?" Jake is trying to tug the case out of my hands. We're back in the Manhattan apartment and have been overseeing the packing of some of his favorite items and our clothes to be shipped to the Hamptons for a couple of days. The journey home was sickness-free, and I'm starting to feel much better these days. I am beginning to feel great, especially now that I have the full undivided attention of my lover once more, and he's only too willing to keep me satisfied.

"No, I told you. I'll take Mathews if you're so damned hell-bent on me having an escort. I'm sure he's a major in karate, kill whatsits or some other nonsense. I know you sometimes spar with him in the gym downstairs, so he must be a deathly ninja of some kind to put up with your crazy martial art commando ways." I huff back, trying to wrestle the handle free from his annoyingly strong grip.

"Emma, I said no!" Jake yanks the case out of my hands, throwing it behind him on the floor. The contents splay everywhere in a crazy dramatic fashion. I square up and glare at him angrily. So seriously not in the mood for immature bossy dickhead Carrero right now.

"Are you telling me what to do?" I stick out my chin defiantly. My rage bubbling forth at the return of one stroppy domineering asshole I thought I stupidly missed.

Ha fucking ha.

"I am the guy you're marrying and the father of that fucking baby. If you dare step foot in Chicago without me, I'll seriously lose my shit." He's scary right now with his blazing green eyes and tense stubbly jaw. Scary in a sexy male model 'who could possibly use his top coming off to cool him down' sort of way.

Really, Emma, sex while you're raging at him?

Hormones!

"I lived there my whole life, Jake. I'm sure I can handle Chicago, and stop yelling at me … I don't particularly appreciate the swearing either." I stomp and pull my height up to meet his, unsuccessfully, seeing as he's six feet two and I'm barely scraping five-foot-four. He's glaring down at me, anger emanating from every pore. His aggressive psycho mode that does absolutely nothing to me.

"Last time you went alone, some guy hurt you in the fucking stairwell. You're never going there alone again, and your mother … Don't even get me started on her because last time she fucking crushed you." He is radiating pure aggressive dominance, an alpha male asshole, but I am not backing down on this.

"I'm not the same anymore, Jake. I'm stronger, and stop it." I slap him in the abdomen churlishly. "Stop talking down to me like I'm your PA." He doesn't even flinch when my palm connects with his hard six-pack.

Or is it eight? Hard to count as when I'm usually on that body, I'm preoccupied.

"Emma!" He has his gritted teeth voice on and the bunching muscles of a severely pissed-off Carrero. "I have to go for two days, that's all, two fucking days to oversee this crap, and then I'll take you myself. I'll drive there and back. Until then, I'll lock you in this apartment and tell Mathews I'll fucking fire him if you step one foot in his car." He seethes at me; pretty sure breathing fire would be one of his things if it were physically possible.

I step back at the wave of his rage and lift my chin slightly higher, inner Emma refusing to be railroaded by this cocky, arrogant ass.

"Jake, if you dare try to intimidate me right now, I'll not only get a fucking train to Chicago, carrying my case by myself, but I'll go as soon as it's dark and you're gone and not even take a goddamn phone, so you can't track my cell or call me." I threaten smugly. Not phased one bit by his show of scare.

There's nothing Jake would hate more than that! He'd go into worried protective overload and maybe blow a brain cell … or three thousand.

We have a monumental angry stare-off, rage bubbling between us, but I don't care. I'm not scared of Jake's little moods anymore or him storming off with hurt feelings, and I'm sure as hell not frightened of any little consequences. Somewhere along the way, I've realized that I have nothing to worry about when it comes to Jake, and if anyone is going to be leaving anyone, it will be me. This right here is not the behavior I am about to put up with for the rest of my married life, and he should learn that fast!

"You wouldn't dare, Emma." That nasty growl does nothing for me. If anything, it makes me want to unbutton his pants, but we're so not doing sex right now.

Maybe later!

"Try me." I bite back, my defiant, hormonal mood in full swing, and he straightens up, that tiny smirk twitching to his mouth breaking his scowling intimidation in a second. He rubs a hand across his face and scrubs it for a second. I guess all his posturing is just a very convincing act if he's so quick to chuck it aside.

Hmmmmm.

"You, woman, are going to be the absolute death of me." He sighs heavily and reaches out, tugging me toward him, planting a kiss on my mouth, cupping my jaw with both hands, and burying his fingers in my hair. Sighing in defeat because he knows there is not a thing he can possibly do to me.

You're so whipped, Jake.

"I don't want you to go." His tone is softer and gentler, and he's obviously changing tactics, but my mind's made up. I know all his devious little manipulations, he's going in for soft and tender, but if that fails, he'll pull out the sex strategy.

And, well, sex I can never resist, especially his kind, so I better get this stopped now since my head has been heading that way for the last twenty minutes.

"Jake, please don't make me beg you to do this. Let me do what I need to do to move on in life." I flutter my lashes at him and give him my sincerest wide-eyed look of adoration.

There's a flicker of doubt in his eye, and I know I have him over a barrel. Two can play that emotional card, Jake.

"Arghhhh." He raises his palms in agitation and paces away from me and back again.

"I'll fucking beg. Do you want me on my knees right now?" He pleads in an annoyed tone. Maybe not ready to let this go just yet.

Depends on what you're planning on doing down there.

"Stop being so melodramatic." I sigh and turn away, leaning down to pick up my case, but Jake grabs my wrist to stop me from bending. He scoops instead, throwing everything on the bed, and I can't help but smile. I stand watching him with folded arms. He's a stroppy ass, but even in a mood, he's still taking care of his pregnant woman.

"I'm not happy about this at all." He's back to brimming with sourness, but I pinch his butt as I walk past him to the bed and smile. He throws me a look of indulgence, and I sigh.

"So, I see." I flip the case over and start folding my clothes again, sliding things in neatly and slowly, bringing some order back to the mess he made. Un-phased by the amount of death-ray looks aimed my way as he watches me painfully.

"Fuck's sake!" Jake snaps, and my case is yanked off the bed and thrown behind him again like a child having a meltdown. It will be a very long night if things carry on at this rate. I should check his birth certificate sometime and ensure he is not actually a five-year-old in a man's body.

"Are you really going to keep doing that?" I'm not angry anymore, just amused by the temper and childishness of my husband-to-be. The massive man-child I used to love working for has returned in full fury. If it weren't frustrating to keep refolding the same clothes, I would be laughing at him right now.

"Yes." He sulks and glares at me, knowing he's not winning this argument one iota, so he's stropping about instead.

Sulky Jake-Oh lord.

I walk up to him, slide my hand into his back pocket, pull out his wallet effortlessly, and flip it open. He narrows his eyes, watching as I slide out his sexy black credit card without attempting to stop me and wave it in front of him.

"If I'm not allowed to pack or take anything to wear, I'll buy what I need, and that'll resolve that little issue." I tease with a naughty smug smile. Jake takes hold of my wrist with one hand and yanks the card out of my hand with the other, throwing that behind him on top of the scattered case too. His expression completely serious, and I can't help but burst into giggles. He still has my wrist in his hand, and it's obvious he's not about to let go.

"You're impossible." I poke him in the chest accusingly but can't stop the giggling.

"That's why you love me, and that's why I'll cancel my fucking trip and stay right here if you keep this up." He moves toward me menacingly, and I spring back, yanking my hand free and waving my hips at him playfully, goading him childishly. His mood is simmering, but that twinkle in his eye hints at a desire to stop arguing and do something far more fun; that never-ending heat between us is never far away nowadays.

There's a small knock on the open bedroom door, and Mathews appears, graciously clearing his throat to alert us of his presence.

"Mr. Carrero, Mr. Hunter is here to see you." He nods and then waits for Jake's response. Jake looks immediately irritated and sighs, resigning himself to the fact that this is going nowhere.

"Show him to the lounge. I'll be there in a minute." Jake smiles, and Mathews turns and leaves us to it. Jake goes to walk forward, then stops and glances over his shoulder at the case on the floor. His eyes narrow suspiciously as he knows I'll pick it up and keep packing as soon as he leaves.

He stalks toward me in two easy strides and, without warning, bends down to flip me over his shoulder with a sharp smack to my ass, making me squeal as he marches us through to the next room with determination. He thinks that if I'm with him, then I can't disobey him.

Asshole.

"Jake put me down." I protest, helplessly squirming on his wide shoulders in his vice-like grip, and he only sets me on my feet when we're beside the long, low white leather couch. Daniel is sitting far too rigidly on the far end, not even looking our way but studying his own hands. Jake catches my wrists and pulls me onto his lap as he sits down, catching me, so I don't fall, nestling me into his embrace. It seems I'm to be his prisoner in case I defy him and pack my case.

What am I going to do with him?

Seriously!

"What's up, Danny? You look a little stressed." Jake turns his steely face to Hunter. I struggle to get free but realize it's futile. Jake's grip is like that of a man on a mission to keep me here. I might as well give in for the time being and see what's going on with Daniel Forlorn-Looking Hunter. I must admit I am a little nosey, seeing as he looks rather … well, sad.

I wrap my arms around Jake's neck and curl my legs on his lap. His arms are loose around me, and I turn, glancing at Daniel. Jake is right about him looking stressed, the boy is sitting straighter than a poker set, and those blue eyes, normally so calm and cheeky, are a little red-rimmed. His usually slightly ruffled hair is too flat and unkempt.

"I need your words of wisdom." He runs his fingers through his hair in agitation, and I notice his shirt is more than a little rumpled. His face isn't its usual clean-shaven self either, he's sporting Jake's designer stubble, and on Hunter, it looks odd. He's too blonde to pull it off.

"Leila?" Jake asks with his sharp instincts, and I immediately zone all attention on Hunter again. I have learned from watching Jake that only woman issues could make a man go to hell like this.

"She's dumped me." He sits back, flopping dejectedly, and slides his feet out wide, sighing heavily, bringing his gaze to the ceiling as though he's going to find some divine wisdom up there.

"Why?" I ask slowly and deliberately, with a hint of edge in my tone. My body bristles in Jake's embrace as he slides his hands down to my ass, pulling me closer to get comfy.

I'll kill him if he's hurt her again.

"She's bat shit crazy! That's why! Jealous as fucking hell, and nothing I said to her helped one bit. We fought over some stupid chick who came up to me in a club two nights ago, and Leila flipped the fuck out." He sounds exhausted, and all hints of smug Hunter are gone.

"Please tell me you haven't done anything, Danny?" Jake slides me off his lap onto the couch next to him, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees toward Daniel. It seems I'm no longer a flight risk now that his friend is genuinely in need, but I stay put anyway.

"No. I'm not stupid, Jake. The girl was someone I hadn't seen in a long time. She tried to get me to dance, and I told her to beat it. Leila just saw red." He sighs again. "I'm trying so fucking hard, Jake, trying to see her as often as possible, showing her that I'm not dating anyone else. Seeing my shrink every week despite the undying urge to take off at a hundred miles an hour. It doesn't mean I'm not struggling with all of this relationship shit, but I'm doing it for her." Daniel slides forward to mirror Jake's pose, so they're closer together.

"But what exactly happened?" I pull a fluffy cushion onto my lap and start stroking it as I stare at the poor guy's tight expression and tortured eyes. I can't help but feel a little sorry for him. He truly looks miserable, and I know only too well how that can feel.

"She threw her fucking drink at me, told me it was over, told me to go fuck the whore, stormed off, and went home. She won't answer my calls." A hint of anger in his tone seems to spark the same on his face.

"Have you thought about going around there and seeing her? Leila is majorly insecure, Daniel." I narrow my eyes on him, and he sighs again.

"And say what? No, Leila, I'm not fucking you about or touching other women publicly on a dance floor five feet away from you. She wouldn't let me near her front door. I know Leila too well. She won't let me in if she's not answering calls." He sits up sharply. "What about some fucking trust? Some fucking benefit of the doubt?" He gets up and then immediately sits down again. "See this shit?" He throws a gesturing hand down the length of him. "She's got me so messed up I don't know if I'm coming or going … Fuck's sake! Seriously. I'm all over the place. I don't think I can handle this anymore." He seems perplexed, slowly unraveling, and I can't help but wonder if this is how Jake was during our separation.

"What are you saying?" Jake doesn't look happy at all; his body tenses a little too sexily for my liking. I can't seem to get my head out of the gutter lately. All this rush of sexual longing has hit hard since getting our back intimacy, and now I can't seem to switch it off. I wonder if this is a pregnancy thing.

Damn, these hormones. I'm so horny for him right now.

"Maybe I'm not able to do this … Maybe Leila and I are better off not together because I can't seem to keep that chick happy." Daniel looks defeated. He restlessly shifts position three times in a row, then resigns himself to returning to his first position, flopping on the couch with legs apart.

I go to snap at him in anger, but Jake stands, and his sudden motion silences me. I wait for his flash of anger, but nothing comes.

"Fine … Leave it this way then. Finished." He shrugs and walks toward the kitchen rendering me utterly speechless. He sounds completely normal and, well, sort of accepting.

What the fuck?

I have no idea what he's playing at, but whatever it is, I don't like it at all. This isn't the Jake who loves Leila to death and puts Hunter in his place when he's being a moron. I'm unhappy about his lack of care for her and start glaring at his back.

"You agree I should give up?" Daniel seems equally shocked at the lack of lecture.

"If you can't do it, then don't. Walk away. Let her go back to that Kurt preppy boy asshole and have a happy life with Mr. Squeaky Clean." Jake's level, even tone, is giving nothing away. Still, I know the manipulation tells in his sexy body how he's casually in control, setting out mugs for coffee nonchalantly, unemotional about the topic. Everything is a bit too precise, and because I know him, I see a very calculated famous Carrero maneuver from miles off. I smile internally at the cleverness of my man.

Reverse psychology. Well done Mr. Carrero.

"Just walk away from her? And then what? That guy won't make her happy …" Daniel can't do anything but stare and question Jake's mental state.

"Go back to being a man-whore with parties and whatever else. Just forget about her." Jake shrugs, holding up a mug and waving it at me, asking if I want one too. I smirk and shake my head adoringly. He is playing Hunter so well.

My devious asshole of a man.

Daniel sits for a moment and stares at his hands quietly.

"I can't do that." He says it more to himself than to either of us, sounding sadly defeated, looking up at Jake as he says, "I love her too much."

"Well, man up, Danny, and stop acting like you weren't expecting any of this shit from her. Leila is acting out because she's waiting for you to fuck things up. She's pushing her damned hardest to make sure you do because she's expecting it, and sooner will hurt far less than later." Jake snaps at him, and I know exactly what he is doing. His insight into Leila's head warms me.

God, I love you.

Daniel contemplates this for a moment as I watch in absolute silence. Jake's ability to read people and situations has always impressed me. His ability to sometimes understand the female mind must be a rare gift for a guy. I'm sure not many men have his level of understanding. Although at times, he is denser than most, so maybe it's a sporadic gift.

"Why did I have to fall for the one who drives me so fucking crazy?" Daniel sighs, returning to picking at his thumbnail absently, staring at his hand with a complete utter lost boy look on his handsome face.

Jake gazes at me intensely from the kitchen.

"It's not love if she can't get under your skin and make you a whole lot of crazy." He smiles, winking at me, and I can't help but smile back, especially when he opens the fridge and starts fixing me a tropical alcohol-free cocktail that I've been craving like mad lately.

Now that's the man I love right there.

"Leila has always got under my skin, but dating her has made it so much worse," Daniel admits, seemingly confused that finally loving his girl would intensify what she does to him.

"Is the therapy helping?" I nudge in with a lighter, warmer tone, and Daniel turns to me, expression a little young and tired and more than a little bewildered.

"Yes, I guess, and no … Well, it's bringing up a lot of shit I need to deal with, but Leila's been with me twice, and when she's there, I dunno, it doesn't mess me up as bad." He shrugs as though just the thought of her brings him some peace, and the sudden flicker of heartache that runs across his face is a giveaway of the fact he's just realized it as the words come out of his mouth.

"You know she won't always be this way. She just doesn't trust you not to run again." I soothe, a little more sympathetic at the real pain I'm seeing in his tropical blue eyes.

"The thing is, for the most part, I don't mind Leila's kind of crazy. She's feisty and wild and moody as shit. Man, she's got a temper and a hell of a right hook. I kinda dig it, though … It's the silence and not letting me near her when we fight that's killing me. Not knowing what's going on in that head of hers and having her freeze me out of her life." He sighs again and looks tormented.

"She's hiding," Jake interjects. "She's probably just as messed up as you are right now." His soft, husky tone as he watches his best friend gives me all sorts of horny thoughts, and I shift to a sitting position crossing my legs. I catch Jake's smirk and realize he knows exactly what I'm thinking.

Jerk.

Daniel frowns, staring emptily down at his hands; he has a fidgeting tell as Jake has, and he starts picking at his other thumbnail.

"I don't know how to do this, Jake … but I don't want to walk away. I've spent years trying to run from how I felt about her, but I can't outrun it anymore. I can't do it … I need her … But I know her. She won't see me or talk to me."

Both men fall silent as they contemplate the best way to deal with Leila, and an idea hits me, a self-serving, killing-two-birds-with-one-stone kind of idea.

"Sarah and I could take her out. Then casually run into you both. That way, she would have no choice but to see you, and she wouldn't suspect that I side with you and set her up." I smile innocently and flutter my lashes Jake's way with an innocent smile.

Jake frowns at me, and I know what Mr. Protective-father-to-be is thinking. I focus on him intently, seeing that frown deepening, and I don't think this is going down well at all.

"You could run into us almost as soon as we arrive and mollycoddle the shit out of me, Jake. So don't worry about my being out on the town in such a delicate condition," I smirk at him, and he has the nerve to smirk back, only confirming what is running through that beautiful head.

What am I going to do with him?

"It could work. Leila wouldn't suspect a setup at a club. If Jefferson drops you at the door, we could meet you at the other side." His intense look boring into me makes me sigh. He's trying to clarify that I am not allowed out of his sight.

We'll see.

"You're only going to get worse the bigger this gets, aren't you?" I point at my slightly fuller stomach, decidedly less flat these last few days.

"Count on it." Jake lifts his eyebrows at me as though challenging me on the subject before he turns back to Daniel.

"What do you say? You want to see her this way?" Jake gives up on making coffee and leans on the counter, those glorious biceps straining at the fabric on his arms.

Oh, man. Hot flushes.

"Any way is better than no way, man. I fucking miss her so much already." Daniel sighs and drops his head into his palms between his knees and scratches his head, then sitting back up, he looks at Jake, then at me with so much pain in his face.

"How soon can we do this? I can't stand the agony of waiting."