Chapter 5

• I push it down, abhorred that I should react this way. It’s alien to me and has me shifting on my axis. I don’t particularly appreciate being forced out of my comfort zone and into new experiences.
• “Mr. Car—” my voice is feeble. I’m so pathetic and obvious.
• “Jake! Please,” he cuts in, those green eyes taking me in, leaving me no clue about anything going on behind them. “Margo informs me she’s happy with you so far and will be training you a little more extensively to step in fully when she retires. I guess that means we should get better acquainted on a first-name basis.” He throws me a charming soft smile, and I’m not immune to the effect. It’s a gesture that hints that he knows exactly what he’s doing with it.
• So, this is how you win over women, Carrero? Melting them with seductive smiles. Ughhh.
• My insides lurch unexpectedly. His hand is smooth and unusually warm in mine, and I’m starting to feel clammy. Anxious Emma peeks her head out only to be pushed back down with a firm shove.
• Be still, Emma. Stay cool. Stop drooling.
• “I’m grateful for the opportunity.” I sound normal enough, with only a slight waver in my voice this time, relieved. If anything, my years of poise are saving me from myself; I’m pulling off the pretense. He subtly looks me over. Nothing in his glance surprises me, just an interested appraisal as he tries to measure me up. I guess he’s used to women going all weak-kneed and pie-eyed at his presence, and it interests him that I don’t appear to be. I’m glad he can’t see my internal reactions, as they are behaving disgustingly now.
• I’m unnerved that this close, he is just as handsome as his internet pictures, if not more so, and his ruggedness is intimidating. The sheer power of his shoulders and toned body strains behind the expensive clothing; I know from photographs that he prefers more casual attire than suits and ties most of the time. He is sexually intimidating and so far out of my league in every way, and now, that is so much more obvious in the flesh. I swallow hard.
• “May I get you a drink, Emma? You look flushed.” His voice pours over me like honey, and my mouth dries up fully. I’m blushing, heat emanating from my roots, and I scowl at my inner adolescent self. He removes his hand and walks away from me with a confident swagger toward his desk.
• I’m uneasy and try to regain my equilibrium, swallowing several times to get the moisture back into my parched mouth and keeping my eyes off his ass. A drink would be good right now if only to release my throat.
• “Thank you.” I catch Margo watching me with a strange look in her eye, and I realize it’s a touch of uncertainty. Mr. Carrero moves off to a bar at the rear of the room near the side of his desk; with his back to us, he fixes me a drink.
• Shit!
• Margo’s thinking I’m just another receptionist with the hots for Mr. Carrero. Another woman to fall at the hurdle of meeting him.
• I pull myself together as I smooth invisible wrinkles in my clothes and straighten my body up, trying to regain my professional air and grace. I hate that I’ve shown signs of being rattled. I don’t usually break under so little pressure, and I’m not impressed with myself.
• I see her expression ease, and I relax.
• Perhaps I’m overthinking this.
• I’m mindful that Mr. Black Suit is standing in a corner by the window, glaring at us; it’s a little intimidating but reassuring. Just out of sight to my far left on a long, cream, Italian leather couch, the younger man is sitting below some huge modern art prints depicting what might be naked women. I blink and look again. Yes, naked women.
• Ughhh. Really? Could you be any more playboy, Carrero?
• Arrick is disinterested in what’s going on. He’s playing with his cell, and I think I recognize the Angry Birds music that Sarah loves to irritate me with. An annoying, immature game, although Arrick looks like he is in his late teens to early twenties, so he can be forgiven for a juvenile game.
• “Here you go.” Jake’s voice cuts into my thoughts, bringing my attention back to him as he hands me a tall glass of something bubbly with ice. It’s a cold, transparent liquid that tastes sweetly tropical with an unexpected hint of alcohol. I take a sip and give him a grateful smile, expecting flavored water.
• I guess it’s not ice water.
• It’s a cocktail, and I try not to show my surprise, but a tiny frown hits my brow before I can correct it, inwardly startled.
• Surprising. He did this himself. Booze at work, though?
• “Thank you, Mr. … Jake,” I correct, and he gives me a soft smile again. With minor annoyance, I ignore the butterflies rising from my stomach.
• Stop behaving like a fourteen-year-old!
• “So, Emma, Margo tells me you’ve worked here for just over five years?” He sits back perched on his desk, relaxed, and eyes fixed on me. He is distractingly good-looking, especially when he lounges all casual and charming, very un-boss-like. Margo stands close by, listening.
• “Yes. I’ve worked on various floors but mainly the tenth.” I place my glass on the table, so my fingers don’t toy with the rim, showing my nervous habits. I’m disappointed to be putting it down; it tasted amazing, but I’m not a fan of alcohol at work, or anytime for that matter. He has skills with making drinks, though.
• “You were Jack Dawson’s assistant for a while?” he questions as his eyebrows dip unusually cutely, and he studies me non-intrusively.
• Get a grip, Emma!
• “Yes, Mr. Dawson.” I smile, although I know, it must look as forced as it feels. Dawson, in his late sixties, small, and overweight, is an unbearable letch who grabbed my ass at every opportunity and pressed himself against me whenever I tried to pass him. I was surprised he still had those kinds of urges at his age. He’s the type of man I’m used to dealing with, with his wandering hands and sleazy smiles, the kind of man I can handle after years of practice.
• “It was Miss Keith who recommended you for this position, I believe?”
• Easily distracted by his appearance, I home in on his beautiful teeth, white and perfectly lined up, just as a billionaire’s mouth should be. I wonder how much he spends on dental work yearly to be Carrero model material.
• “Yes. I loved working for her while her assistant was on leave; I learned much from her.” A surge of satisfaction at how relaxed and calm I sound again rushes through my body. My nerves are settling, and his effects on me are winding down with effort. I guess the shock of meeting him is finally diminishing.
• I was wrong about his eyes, though. In person, they’re the most gorgeous, pure green I’ve seen; the photographs don’t do them justice at all.
• “She spoke highly of your efficiency and professionalism. It’s rare for Kay to make an internal recommendation for a position like this.” He smiles briefly, and the butterflies swoop back in. I blush. The heat rising up my face annoys me as I try to maintain my professional maturity. I loved Kay Keith as a boss; I was desolate when her assistant returned to work, and I was demoted back to Dawson’s office, returning to the letch and his slimy hands.
• “Thank you.” I smile genuinely, inner pride glowing. I have sacrificed so much in my life to get here. It’s not an easy thing to move from a lowly admin assistant up through a company like this in just five years, especially with my meager qualifications.
• Margo adds, “Well, I’ve found her to be a joy so far. Efficient and capable, with a good understanding of the business. I don’t think getting her up to speed with your requirements will take long.” Margo beams at me with an odd twinkle in her eye. I like her. She’s still standing close, observing us, oblivious to the other two men behind her. I know she’s watching to see if we are a fit and is standing back to let us get to know each other. Her presence calms me.
• “Glad to hear it. So, Emma, how has it been so far? Learning the ropes of life on the sixty-fifth floor?” There is slight humor in his expression, a hint of that Carrero charm he’s famed for. If I'm honest, it’s hard not to fall for it, but I know it stems from years of schmoozing with the rich and famous and is probably fake. He’s a pro.
• “A breeze,” I answer coolly, avoiding that penetrative gaze he has going on now. “Nothing I can’t handle so far.” I allow a half-smile of confidence.
• “Has Margo warned you about the frequent traveling you will have to undertake or the unsociable hours we sometimes keep? This job can be full-on, Miss Anderson. It’s not for the faint-hearted.” He’s frowning, watching me closely; it’s a little unnerving.
• “Yes, I’m aware that this is not a nine-to-five job, Mr. Carrero. I’m 100% committed to my career, so it will not be an issue,” I reply without emotion, lifting my chin a little to show my determination.
• “You’re young; what about a social life?” He still frowns at me, still tries to scrape away at my surface and figure me out. I would never give a man like him that chance.
• “I haven’t much interest in many social activities. I left my hometown to come to New York, and I don’t know many people outside of work.” My voice sounds a bit unsteady, but I doubt he has noticed. He glances at me contemplatively.
• “Career-oriented? Can be lonely.” He tilts his head to the side and lightly hunches his shoulders in a devastating move to my hormones, making my body tingle and my temperature soar without warning. I gaze at the floor for a second and breathe to combat these strange feelings.
• Stop eye-raping him, Emma. Have a little more professionalism.
• “I’m never lonely, Mr. Carrero; I’m an independent person who doesn’t need assurances or company from other people to be happy.” I realize I’ve let my mouth shift into gear ahead of my brain and have revealed more than I intended to. It’s another old Emma habit that annoys me despite years of trying to overcome it.
• Relationships bring complications, disappointment, and pain. It’s true, though. I’ve been self-reliant from an early age. I keep people at arm’s length, even Sarah because it suits me to do so.
• He narrows his eyes and studies me again, more probing as this excruciating chat continues, trying to peel away my layers.
• “Oh, Emma, that’s not how a young girl like you should live her life,” Margo cuts in, alarmed. “You’re so pretty; you should have young men romancing you around New York.” Before returning to her previous position, she touches my shoulder with a motherly squeeze. I smile emptily and ignore the urge to grimace at her words. If only she knew how that thought repulses me. I’ve learned from my life that romance does not exist in most men's minds, only sexual gratification, whether you consent to it or not.
• “Sounds like you’re trying to talk her out of stealing your job, Margo,” Jake laughs, lifting his boyish expression to the older woman, a complete change from his first smile. This one seems more natural and even more devastating. I catch the affection flicker between them, and it surprises me. She shakes her head at him.
• “No, Emma knows I value her here. I think she’s a perfect fit.” She turns her cloudy gray eyes to me with a genuine warmth that slightly thaws me. “Not too sure how much you’ll like it once Jake starts running you ragged, mind you.” She winks and places a hand on his arm showing the special bond they seem to share, and I wonder at it. They have a casual and comfortable ambiance, like a mother and son. Very odd.
• “I’m sure I can handle the demands,” I cut in confidently.
• “Despite Jake’s public playboy reputation, Emma, I’m afraid he’s a workaholic. Surprising, I know, but you’ll get used to it; you’ll rack up plenty of air miles in the next few months.” Margo smiles again wistfully, this time patting Jake on the shoulder. There is a silent communication between them, secret smiles and glances, and I wonder how I will ever take her place.
• “You’ll soon get fed up with seeing the world,” he says, giving me a comical frown with those alluring eyes back on my face; I hate how they make me feel naked. “And the inside of hotel rooms,” he adds with a mischievous smirk that heats my stomach with a flash. My insides flip over.
• I try to ignore this remark, hoping to take him at face value and hoping this internal wave fizzles away as quickly as it appeared. I’m sure I’ll never see the inside of his hotel room. I can promise I won’t, despite his reputation.
• “I’ve seen enough of those to last a lifetime,” Margo says, waving her hand and throwing him a glance I cannot translate, oblivious to my reaction. “Right, we have work to be getting on with. Emma, you’re with me for now.” She gestures to the door behind me, and I nod. Mr. Carrero stands from his perched position on his desk edge and smiles, reaching his hand out again while never breaking eye contact. Holding me to it.
• “To our working relationship, Emma,” he says. I accept his hand, ignoring the same tingling sensation his touch creates, my skin ignited, and I smile tightly to disguise all the feelings. Sighing with relief that this meeting is over, I nod before I turn and follow Margo out of his office, exhaling quietly and pushing all my taut nerves and anxious tension out with a blow.
• Well, I survived meeting Jacob Carrero for the first time. My underwear didn’t self-combust, and I remained intact.
• Strike Point one to me.