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

Chapter 80

“She called … she needs to speak to you.” I cover, hiding the tremor in my voice. He looks both instantly annoyed and something else… wary.

“When?” The dark look is back, I hope that means he’s not happy about her call and not that I forgot to tell him. Not that I could be blamed. I was unconscious after all.

“Before I … dramatically met the floor.” I try a small smile, but he doesn’t look pleased, he’s glowering, at me.

No … Too soon?

I think he’s displeased in general. He frowns and picks his cell up from the table, slides it open with one hand. I have a moment of panic, wondering if I exited his text box but he doesn’t react, so I guess I did.

That was close! Stupid, Emma, really stupid.

He’s still holding me, keeping me upright and quickly sits me down in the seat nearby, before he presses his cell screen.

He’s going to call her right now! … Right here, with me sitting beside him? Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

I squirm, sure I don’t want to witness this at all.

“Marissa … You called?” he doesn’t sound friendly. There’s a long pause as he listens, and I don’t want to be here. I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole. He may think we’re back to just PA and boss, but my heart says differently. “I told you,” he snarls.

He sounds different. I’ve never heard him in lover mode and he actually sounds annoyed, and in asshole Carrero mode, but hey ho.

“No … Don’t bother. I’ll call you,” he snaps at her.

Well, I’m glad I’ve never met him in lover mode, because he’s being quite pissy with her.

If this is what his dates get, then why the hell do they still date him?

He sighs dramatically, tense as he paces back and forth listening. Like a caged animal who is desperate for freedom.

“Okay, okay … Don’t fucking cry … I’ll call you back when I’m done.”

Now that made me shut up and take note. Confusion all over my face and brain whirring at the attitude. I try to feign ignorance and seem like I’m engrossed in the edge of the table, picking at it. His voice was hushed, but not enough, so maybe he doesn’t know how much I heard. He casts a look at me warily and comes over to help me up when he hangs up on her.

“We’re going … Now.” He’s back in pissed and grumpy mode. Boss Carrero calling the shots. I don’t even react, just allow him to guide me and stay quiet. My head whirling with the little snippet of conversation between Marissa and him. Completely clueless as to how to feel.

***

At the hotel, he dumps me graciously in my room. He ordered me to lay down and there’s a tray of half eaten food by the bed. He has a doctor coming, despite my protests and has left me to stare at the quiet TV to “recuperate”.

He’s being distant and as soon as I was settled, he pulled his cell out and stalked off, closing himself in his own room. I know he’s calling her and despite his manner with her earlier, it still makes my heart constrict painfully. I hate the fact he’s calling her. I don’t know why, but from the moment I met her, I had this weird, gutsy inkling that I really didn’t like her at all. Far more potently than any of his other bimbos

and I can’t explain it. It’s some female thing going off inside of me, that makes me hate her more than the others.

On top of that I just hate that he’s calling a woman, completely unable to control my jealous pain inside and that sucks most of all.

* * *

He’s back thirty minutes later as the doctor is wrapping up her stethoscope after examining me.

“What’s the verdict?” he sounds concerned. Well, maybe … Bossy mainly.

“She’s fine, Mr. Carrero. … A little rest and she’ll make a full recovery.” The doctor beams at him confidently, her swathe figure in a nice fitted gray suit and she has a lovely face. I like this doctor; she has gentle hands and an easy manner that makes me relax under her care; she also seems immune to Jake’s charms. I’m glad, because she’s hot for a doctor and most definitely someone I could see him bedding.

“Why did she pass out then?” he doesn’t seem convinced and doesn’t seem to notice how attractive she is either. All eyes on me and frowning. No schmoozing charm evident.

“Miss. Anderson. informed me she’d skipped meals and was overheated; I’m guessing she wasn’t drinking enough fluids either and she became a little overwhelmed. We need to take care of our bodies … She needs to acclimatize to Vegas weather, I think.” She throws me a wide smile and I return it; how could you not, she’s lovely.

He’s frowning, his arms crossed and scrutinizing me closely. He doesn’t look convinced and I know he’s inwardly cursing me about how many times he’s told me I need to drink more water too. The man should have shares in Evian, the amount he goes through in a day.

“She’s going to get enough rest, she’s hotel bound until tomorrow, when we fly home,” he points out a tad rudely. The doctor smiles and nods. She approves.

What? This is news … Since when?

We’re due to stay here for a week. I keep quiet as he shows the doctor out, then slide up from the bed and march through to the sitting area purposefully, to find him. To confront him.

“What do you mean we’re flying home?” I accuse angrily as soon as she departs.

“Tomorrow morning … It’s already arranged.” He has an air of irritation, his green eyes simmering with warning, but I ignore it.

“Why? Because I fainted? … We have stuff to do here, Jake.” I strop at him in sheer agitation, throwing my hands around gesturing like mad.

“Yes … No … Because of that, and because of shit I need to deal with, okay?” I pale as I take in the agitated tone and manner. He doesn’t need to spell it out, I know him well enough to know “Shit” being Marissa!

“You’re going to blow out this week’s schedules?” I snap with a dead pan expression. Hating that he dumps work for a fucking woman! This is not how he normally operates; this is a crappy way to run an empire if you ask me.

“Sometimes life does get in the way of work, Emma.” He glares at me sarcastically and just cements my suspicion.

Actually, now I think of it, this is exactly what he does. He takes off on personal time, or holidays or blows out work for a week to go off and sulk. Abandoning everything!

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap at him furiously.

Why am I so goddamn angry with him? I should be ecstatic … I hate Vegas and I want to go home. I should be dancing my joyful dance at getting out of this place early. But I’m just pissed!

“It means what it means …” He stalks off away from me and it only makes me angrier. Igniting that temper.