The Carrero Effect Trilogy

Chapter 31

Jake pushes the fork full of cannoli into my mouth, almost choking me with the amount he’s picked up from the plate. I struggle to push him away, stifling a giggle, but he tries to ram it in further, close to choking me. I lift my hand and push him off, taking half out of my mouth and dropping it on the napkin in front of me, attempting to chew what’s still in it. He stuffs some into his mouth, seemingly oblivious to what he’s done to me.

“What is this thing you have with ramming food in my mouth?” I finally say, shoving his shoulder playfully. He leans around, attempting to push more into my mouth, but I turn away. “Jake!” I scold, moving his hand back. He shrugs, redirecting it into his mouth instead.

“Feeding you is part of taking care of you,” he smiles, but I only look at him in disbelief.

“There’s feeding someone.” I laugh. “You know, like sexily in the movies? And then there’s your version of trying to ram my mouth full in one fell swoop and almost choking me to death.”

“Just seeing how much you can fit in there,” he says, winking suggestively, and I turn crimson as I get what he means.

Oh, boy! We have never crossed the whole ‘me giving him oral pleasure’ yet. I wouldn’t even know how, and he’s never tried to initiate it. He’s never mentioned it despite doing it to me so many times. Is this a hint?

“Before your overactive brain starts going on a time-out thinking I want you to drop your face in my lap right now, I don’t.” He looks at me pointedly, always able to read me before I’ve even finished thinking. “You’ll get there when you’re ready. And if you don’t, it’s not an issue.” He picks up another piece of cannelloni and points it toward my mouth. I shake my head and watch him eat it instead.

For some reason, eating our meals on or in his bed has become the norm lately. We’re in the stages of undress again after coming home and making out on the couch. Actually, it was more like grinding and squirming hotly on the sofa and trying to stop his wandering hands in case Nora appeared. His lust led us to the bedroom soon after as he could not stop knowing I had no underwear on, obvious by the speed at which he got me naked.

I’m full to bursting, and his bed looks like a food explosion happened. He’s fed me what the housekeeper left us for lunch, a steak dinner followed by cream-filled cannoli, a Jake favorite. I’m wearing his shirt over my nakedness, and he’s wearing only his jeans with all his delicious torso, muscular back, and arms on show; I love looking at him.

“I hate girls who play with their food and eat nothing except lettuce,” he finally adds, looking me up and down. “You’re thin and seem to have a fast metabolism; I like seeing you fed.” He smiles at me before making another attempt at pushing food my way. “There’s something sexy about a girl who eats normally.”

“I swear I’ll be sick if you try that again. I’m not you with your endless stomach,” I laugh. This time he aims at my nose, smearing cream down my face, then dives on top of me to lick it off. I squeal and wriggle as his weight flattens me to the bed, his mouth sucking parts of my face the cream didn’t even touch. Cream smears up his hand from my fighting him off, and he tries to rub it on me. I squeal his name in objection, wriggling and battling those overly strong hands. Finally, he plants a kiss on my mouth, smiling as he does so, making me laugh in the process.

“Sometimes you’re like a child,” I giggle, pushing him up so he’s no longer squashing me; he plants his hands down either side of my head to take his weight, my favorite view of Jake.

“Yeah, well, get used to it; men never grow up, baby.” He picks up a piece of cannoli and throws it toward the plate, the sticky mess on the sheets making him frown. I look around at the carnage from eating lunch here.

“Your bed is a total mess,” I point out.

“It’s our bed. And I’m not sleeping here tonight, so good luck with getting comfy in it,” he grins, leaning down to kiss me again. Suddenly reminded that he’s leaving in a couple of hours, I stop and sigh, melancholy at the thought. It’s only for one night, but it’s why he’s going, and we haven’t been apart since we started this relationship, making me feel depressed about it.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, breaking into my thoughts as he leans closer. “You make me want to cancel it and stay home with you, Bambina.” His eyes come to mine, and I try a happier look, despite wanting him to do anything else but go.

“You need to sort this out, or she’ll just keep trying to call the shots,” I say.

And endlessly calling with her huffs and demands as though she owns him.

That thought makes me grumpier than hell.

He grins and pokes the frown on my forehead, saying, “Definitely don’t do that … or I’ll just have to run away with you and forget about responsibilities.” He frowns too and flops down beside me on the bed. Flinching in disgust, he arches up off the bed swiftly. “What the …? Ugghh.” He looks over his shoulder at the splodge of cream down his back and sends me into hysterical laughter.

“We should start using your dining table,” I laugh as he slides off the bed and grabs a towel to clean it off. He surveys the mess we’ve made, from the smears of cream to the gravy spills from when he tried to get a hand up my thigh while eating steak.

“You think that’s funny?” He locks eyes on me menacingly. Still flat on my back, I watch him with amusement, then squeal as he yanks the sheets completely off the bed, causing me to land in a heap on the floor at his feet, covered in white and gray bedding.

“Hey!” I choke, trying to untangle myself before a strong hand grabs my ankle and hauls me across the floor out of the bundle of sheets. I’m lifted and thrown heavily onto the mattress, covered with just the fitted sheet, and Jake straddles me with a determined look on his face.

“Little girls who laugh at their boyfriends deserve to be disciplined.” He pins my arms above my head with one hand, then tortures me with tickles until I’m howling, pinned under him expertly. I squeal with laughter, writhing and wriggling in protest until I’m too exhausted to fight anymore, tears are pouring from my eyes, and I am unable to breathe properly. Finally, his relentless torture stills, and he lies on top of me again, kissing me softly.

“You’re a horrid boyfriend,” I gasp, trying to wipe my face and catch my breath, exhausted. A smile forms on my lips as he moves close enough to rub noses, leaning over me, toying with almost kissing me, but keeping his mouth just out of reach.

“I guess,” he teases, smiling again, coming close as though he will kiss me, then moving back slightly with a gleam of wickedness. I get infuriated and lift my head to kiss him instead. He’s quick and rolls around, smiling. “Too slow!” He’s enjoying this. Playful, teasing Carrero has a new game … torturing Emma!

“Fine!” I pout and turn my face away so he can’t kiss me anymore. Still, he grabs my chin and pulls me back with a look of sheer annoyance on his face that his game has been turned on him and plants on me an extra seductive, passionate kiss, but with a glint of childish rage in his eyes that he has been outmaneuvered. He moves over me with more than a hint of his intentions. My body instantly ignites at the slightest signal that he wants sex, and she’s already purring.

* * *

“Wake up, cuore Mio. I need to go.” Jake’s voice rouses me from my sleep. I’m sprawled completely naked over the bed on nothing but a sheet with a fur throw over me. He exhausted me to the point I finally passed out; I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep, and now he is going. I open my eyes in protest, looking at him like a child who’s about to cry.

“I know, baby. It’s after two; I’m late as it is because of this. I should have gone already. Daniel’s already downstairs in the car.” He kisses me, leaning over me on the bed. He’s fully dressed in a dark suit and shirt open at the collar, and he smells like he always does, with aftershave and his special scent. He kisses me longingly, his hand pulling up to tangle in my hair, his body gently resting on mine. Suddenly, I want to cling to him and not let him go, emotions getting the better of me and my anxiety peaking.

He’s going to see her; he’s going away from New York to discuss his future with Marissa’s baby, and I don’t want it to be happening.

“Nora will come in and change the bed for you, Bambina, and she’ll make you dinner around five. Make sure you eat, okay?” He lingers over me, a look of reluctance in his eyes. “I’ll be back before you know it. Don’t go to work tomorrow; stay here and take some you time. I’ll call you, okay?”

“Okay, and okay,” I smile emptily, wrapping my arms around his neck one last time, trying to push down all my turmoil. He stands up and waves, then grabs my foot and strokes down my sole gently, causing me to flinch and giggle. He pauses as though he’s reluctant to leave, then turns and goes. I think maybe he’s feeling it too - that trepidation at leaving me, at going to see her. I hold it together and let him go.

* * *

Nora left around seven to go home to her cats; I finally spent some time getting to know her while she cooked dinner. Jake finally calls me around midnight, just as he’s getting to his hotel, and he seems a million miles away. I miss him even more as I’m lying in this huge bed in his apartment all alone. The security staff usually stay in the outer rooms and corridors outside Jake’s main apartment, so they rarely come inside unless needed. So, here I am, all on my lonesome in this huge, modern apartment which lacks any of my home comforts.

“This hotel sucks,” he sighs down the line, sounding much huskier than his normal voice. He sounds tired and agitated and as unhappy as I feel.

“Are you slumming it in something less than five stars?” I ask, giggling, knowing that would never happen.

“It’s a shitty Carrero hotel,” he returns, his voice betraying the fact he’s smiling. Jake has always tried to avoid staying in his own hotels for some reason unknown to me, which I always found hilarious. With all those trips we took, he always had me book us into anything but a Carrero hotel.

“Why on earth are you staying in one of those?” I ask, laughing at the irony.

“Seems my stand-in PA is a bitch,” he laughs. I know Margo is still on staff, filling in for our disappearing acts. She asked that she be allowed to work on, even when I returned, finding the life of a retiree unfulfilling. So technically, he now has two PAs. Margo has been given an office all her own elsewhere on the sixty-fifth floor, with regular office hours, which seems to suit her much better.

“She must be mad at you to stick you like that,” I giggle, turning onto my back in bed and twirling my hair above my head.

“Yeah, maybe replacing her with a younger PA who I frequently bend over my desk put her nose out of joint.”

I eyeroll and ignore his comments about sex. It’s always sex with him.

“I’ve never been in a Carrero hotel,” I exclaim. It’s true; in all the time I’ve worked there, I have never been to one. Ironic really. I’ve never even laid eyes on one. I would never have gone to one without Jake, as their prices are above anything I could ever have afforded; they are in the top tier of luxury accommodations.

“You’re not missing much. Think ridiculously expensive, old-school Hollywood glamour … nothing modern. Much like my father and his Godfather tastes.” He sighs, and I get it right away. The hotels are his father’s babies. The style and service are something he established long before Jake was even a twinkle in his eye. So if they ooze Giovanni Carrero, I can see why Jake avoids them. He tried last year to have them updated, but his father always came down hard on the styling of his chain.

“Can’t be all bad. I mean, I bet the staff is working extra hard to make you happy … being the heir of the empire and all,” I giggle at his defeated tone.

“Bambina, there is only so much ass-kissing I can take. Besides, they all dress like maître d’s from Disneyland. My father has no clue at all.” He goes silent for a moment, and I’m hit hard with a tug of longing. I want him here next to me already. I don’t like this at all.

“I wish you had come with me,” he croons softly, almost reading my mind. “I understand why, Emma, but I hate this. I want you here, lying next to me, not just a voice on the phone.”

“I don’t want to be a part of this, not yet,” I admit honestly. “I’m not okay with it yet. I need time,” I sigh, waiting for the start of an argument. I’ve never said that before.

“That makes two of us, Bella.” He sighs too, seeming so extremely far away from me. “Do you think you'll start coming with me sometime?” he asks cautiously.

“I don’t know.” It’s doubtful there’s enough time before the birth for me to get over it, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I understand. It just sucks that I miss you this much already. This big old hotel room and huge bed aren’t appealing without you in it.”

“I miss you too.” That horrid tug inside makes me regret staying here, but I know that going would have caused different pain. I didn’t want to go and then feel angry at him the whole time we were in LA. I don’t want to address those feelings toward him yet for all of this.

“Daniel’s giving me the evil eye, so I better go. Go to sleep. I’m going to get a late dinner; I hate airplane food. Then I’ll be in bed dreaming of you soon enough and pretend like you’re actually here.”

“I love you,” I whisper sadly, not wanting him to hang up, aching for him to be in bed beside me so I can trace that flawless face and snuggle in close.

“I love you way more,” he soothes with a hint of a smile in his voice. “Sweet dreams, Bambina. Dream of a big hunky Italian with a naughty streak stripping you naked.”

“Most definitely!” I grin my body heating for his touch.

“Goodnight, girlfriend,” he adds sweetly.

“Goodnight, boyfriend,” I laugh at him and his cuteness. With that, he hangs up and leaves me feeling lonely, his apartment seeming much emptier now. I move down under the sheets to his side of the bed, disappointed at the lack of his smell on the fresh linens. I get up and go to the hamper, looking for any of his clothes and find none. Nora is an efficient housekeeper, too efficient, it would seem. I climb back into bed, annoyed and emotional all at once. I force myself to lie down and close my eyes, hoping that morning will come quickly and it will be the day he’s coming home to me.

What the hell is the matter with you, Emma? You had a whole life before him. A self-reliant, independent life. Get a grip.

* * *

I sit up, bathed in sweat, crying out in the darkness. I’m breathing rapidly with shallow gasps, my fingers gripping the sheets cruelly. My heart is beating fast and loud in my ears, fear gripping me as I come to and try to focus on my whereabouts. I was dreaming horrid, awful dreams.

What the hell?

I can’t even remember exactly. The dream is already starting to fade as my senses become fully alert. I look around, trying to regain calm from the surroundings, which are so different from where I was moments before in my dream, in Chicago, with my mother. We were fighting … no … talking. I remember the snarl of a face close up; I remember there was blood, but it’s hazy. My mother was sobbing, and then she wasn’t; darkness in the shadow enveloped us both and took her from me … lifeless. She fell to the ground at my feet, and I knew she was dead.

With shaking hands, I reach out to the lamp on the bedside table; with the merest touch, it instantly springs to life, Jake and his love of gadgets. I scan the room around me, grounding myself again and taking slow, deliberate breaths. It’s six in the morning. I see my phone on the docking port nearby; impulsively, I pick it up and dial my mother’s landline, ignoring that it’s only 5.00 a.m. in Chicago. My hands are shaking as I try to slow my erratic pulse. After a long wait, she finally picks up.

“Hello?” A grumpy, sleepy, slow voice brings me more relief than I ever knew was possible, and my body sags.

“Mom?” I breathe softly, using the term I haven’t uttered since I was seven years old, overwhelmed and not myself.

“Emma? Is that you?” Her voice sounds instantly more alert and awake as it dawns on her it’s me. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I just … I dreamt you died,” I answer and break into a sob, then there’s nothing but silence between us; I know she must feel awkward. She doesn’t know emotional Emma; I don’t think she’s seen her for a very long time. She’s no idea how much I’ve changed, what Jake has done to me, or even that I’m with him. The last time we saw one another ended badly, and she’s probably wondering what’s changed.

“I’m fine, darling. I’m just bobbing along. You know … getting on with things.” She sounds wary. She doesn’t know what to say, which helps me reel back the tears and regain my equilibrium to the Emma she’s more familiar dealing with. My mother isn’t one to be overly emotional, and she sounds uncomfortable at the evidence I am.

“I think I might come home for a few days … with Jake,” I add, surprising even myself. Knowing her, she won’t even ask why I would bring him.

“Oh, that would be lovely … for both of you to come. He’s done so much for me, and I would like to say thank you in person,” she responds, beaming down the phone. The last time she saw him, it was obvious that she was enamored with the impressive Carrero heir. She doesn’t even ask about us or our relationship, just accepts that I’ll bring him. She doesn’t mention our last meeting. This is how she is; this is what she always does. My life is of no interest to her unless it impacts hers.

“I better go and let you sleep,” I finally add, my need to speak to her dissipating now, and that nudge of disappointment she always makes me feel grows steadily inside me.

I don’t know why I always delude myself that she will be different, that I’ll get some sort of emotion for once. The affectionate names are all just an act.

“Okay, sweetheart …” She pauses as though she wants to say more but doesn’t, then, “Just text me when you’re going to come, and I’ll get your old room ready.”

I say nothing, knowing we will stay in a hotel close by. I’ve too many harsh memories to stay there. We say our goodbyes, and I hang up, feeling only marginally better, a different kind of emotion waving through me now.

I sigh and send Jake a text for when he wakes up, but part of me hopes he awakens with the vibration of his cell. I need to hear him.

“We’re going to Chicago to see my mother. I finally bit the bullet and called her. P.S. I miss you xx.”

I slide my phone onto the bedside table and lie down reluctantly. Jake won’t be awake at this time; he can fall asleep anywhere and quickly. He’ll reply when he gets up and maybe call me. I settle into the bed, trying to get comfy, toss, and turn before I finally start drifting back off.

* * *

I wake slightly energized, knowing Jakes’s coming home today; it thrills me in ways I never thought possible. I feel like he’s been gone forever. I jump up and shower with renewed happiness, but then the memories of last night return, and thoughts of Chicago damp it down again. I’m not regretting calling my mother, but somehow, in the light of a new day, I regret saying I’m going back there. I know Jake doesn’t quite see my mother in the same positive light he used to, so maybe taking him with me isn’t a good idea after all.

Jake calls me a little after ten, seven in LA. He left it until after his gym workout and run time in case I was still asleep, and I’m ecstatic to hear his voice again.

“Hey, Bambina.” He’s happy, and I grin at his mere sound and melt at his usual affectionate term.

“Hey, sexy,” I giggle, elated.

“Did you miss me? I missed you last night.” His voice takes on a husky tone that sends shivers through me, and the sudden urge to have him wrapped around me claws at my chest.

“Of course not; I hardly noticed your absence,” I jest, and he laughs softly. He knows me better than that. I can’t get anything by him.

“I couldn’t sleep last night. I think I tossed and turned until almost three before I finally got some shuteye,” he says. “Think I was yearning for my live teddy bear.” There’s a smile in his voice.

“That’s odd; I woke up just after six with a horrendous nightmare, which was 3.00 a.m. your time,” I say. “I dreamed my mother died, and … Vanquis was here.” It comes out a little too shakily, as though I’m more upset about it than I am.

Maybe I am …

My hands are trembling at the memory.

“I wish I’d been beside you, dolcezza.” He sounds somber, his joyous tone dropping. “I hate that you woke up alone after that.”

“I don’t have nightmares when you’re here,” I add in haste to reassure him, my heart aching at the tone of his voice and the guilt he feels at not being here.

“I hate that leaving you means they come back, then. You stopped having your night terrors when we started sleeping together?” He sounds genuinely surprised.

“I guess. I haven’t had a dream like last night in weeks. And that one night, we shared a bed in Chicago? I didn’t have one then either,” I admit, my face flushing at the memory of that night and kissing him in his sleep. I still haven’t told him that I initiated it. Maybe I will; he’ll like that.

“It makes me happy to know that I keep them away, that I’m somehow protecting you from your past.” He sounds pleased, then his tone changes subtly, making me a little wary, “Is that why you called her? Why you want to see her?”

“Yes. You don’t think I should anymore?” I push gently.

“She’s still your mother. Maybe I don’t favor her as much as I did, but only you can choose your relationship with her.”

I can hear Daniel’s voice in the background and Jake telling him playfully to get lost.

“Do you need to go?” I ask, disappointment washing over me as he sighs lightly.

“Yes, but I’m not going to. Stay on the phone, baby.” The noises I hear from the phone suggest he’s getting up and moving around, maybe putting his shoes on. “Daniel is eager to get breakfast, but not here; the menu is as bad as the room,” he jests, and I conjure up images of fancy seafood platters and elaborate poached egg dishes. Jake hates fussy food displays; he likes food to look like food, plain and simple. “I can still talk to you while I walk, though.”

“Do you think you’ll get everything sorted today?” I know I should ask. After all, it’s why he’s out there, but even uttering the words causes me a great amount of heartache. Life would be perfect if it weren’t for this little hurdle.

“I hope so. I don’t want to go back and forth with lawyers for much longer. I’m not leaving until some legal agreement is reached regarding money, visitation, and boundaries.” His voice goes quiet as he moves the phone away; I can almost imagine him sliding his jacket on. I close my eyes to see him in my mind’s eye, aching to touch that face and those biceps.

“You think she’s ready to agree?” I force myself to open my eyes again and not get lost in the memory of his touch.

“Yes. I told her that if she wants me to have any relationship with the baby, she needs to back off because my love life has nothing to do with her.” He comes back clearer and louder, the phone back where it belongs. “I’m not going there with her calling the shots on this. I made it clear that it goes my way, or I’m on the first flight home.” He sounds determined, typically dominating Carrero on a role. Marissa has no idea what she’s trying to go up against.

“I forgot you are the king of negotiation,” I laugh. More accurately, he’s the king of manipulation and getting his own way.

“Right, Bella, I’m heading into the elevator, so I’m going to lose you. Ti Amo, piccola ragazza,” he says, so seductively my insides tremble.

“I love you, too. Bye, Jake.” I smile down the phone as he utters his goodbyes, and then he’s gone.