“Is that the direction we’re taking now … squabbling over your driving accomplishments?” I pout,
crossing my hands in my lap and sighing deeply. He wrinkles his forehead at me and looks out over the
aisle at the empty seats, shifting in his chair for the second time.
“I left because if I didn’t, it was going to go one of two ways … either I ended up fucking you or
strangling you.”
I’m rendered gob smacked. There’s no other word for it. He just put it right out there so bluntly.
I’m sure I should read my contract under the section about appropriate conversation topics with your
boss, and maybe check the sexual harassment clauses.
He flicks over my burning face, accepting my silence.
“It’s clear that parts of our relationship sometimes blur the lines … We work closely, we live in each
other’s pockets, and sometimes I forget that you are my PA above everything else.”
“What exactly do you confuse me with?” I snort because that would be nice to know. I kind of need a
definition.
What else would you call what I do?
He throws me a pained and disdainful look.
“You’re younger than any assistant I’ve ever had; we get on, and we’re friends … I forget sometimes
that I need to act a certain way with you.” He goes back to staring at the side of my face and I resist the
urge to meet his gaze.
“So, you never kissed any of your other PAs?” I sulk. Margo flashes across my mind and I immediately
shake it away with disgust. My stomach is already in my throat.
Eeww, she’s like a mom to him.
“No, Emma, I haven’t. Before Margo took over full time for me, I went through a few assistants and they
never lasted any more than a couple of months. I’ve tried male and female assistants and I lacked
interest, and trust, in all of them.”
“I see.” News to me, but okay…
“Working the way we do, requires both …and being this close means, sometimes I forget there would
be consequences in trying to screw you.” He’s still watching me closely; I’m dying under his scrutiny
and the blatant way he’s talking about sex between us. I think I’m also upset by the fact he’s making it
pretty clear it would only be that … Nothing deeper! I forget that sex for him doesn’t carry
consequences, maybe that’s the issue. He’s too used to meaningless sex and has to remind himself
that he would still have to work with me after. While I’m too hung up on what sex with him would do to
my heart afterwards and unable to work with him at all.
“So, the red head?” I ask, smarting at this conversation.
“What about her?”
“She’s the one you ran off with for a week?” I’m back to sulking Emma. Half pouting. Heart twisting in
my chest, broken inside. He just frowns at me and shakes his head.
“No … I picked her up before I flew home.” He avoids my eyes this time and I swear I catch a moment
of shame.
Nice … Picked her up … like you pick up a quart of milk on the way home from work, at your own
convenience.
“Back on form then?” I spit, the temper returning at the way I’ve maneuvered the topic. I’m such an
idiot.
“Completely.” I sense the coolness return to his voice too, he’s reacting to my anger and my
snippiness.
“Got to the root of the issue?” I ask sardonically.
Try and keep calm, Emma.
I scold myself inwardly for this argument.
“Yes … Isn’t an issue anymore.” He grunts. I swallow hard, so close to crying and paste a smile on my
face instead.
“Good … Can’t have you incapable and suffering now, can we? Carrero losing his edge is worse than
death for you right?” I smile curtly with the most fake smile I’ve ever given. He regards me icily and
hands me back my champagne. “Maybe we should clink to that,” I add drily, hating him in this moment
and unable to stop the internal distress.
“Maybe we should.” He pings his glass against mine harshly and I catch the sarcasm on his face. He
seems angry now too, but I smile icily, hating on him as much as I detest myself.
Are we fighting? It feels like we are, but it’s laced in uber cool and polite, and I can’t read him at all.
I’m smarting, emotional and I want to throw my drink at him in a bid to feel better. He’s acting like this is
all some meaningless, casual joke; maybe it would have been two weeks ago but not now, not ever
again. I lay my head back against my seat, irritation clouding my thoughts.
“Maybe I should follow your example.” I pout loudly, I hadn’t meant to say it out loud but it’s out.
Crap.
“What example would that be?” he pulls out his cell and starts typing in response to a text, I wonder
which leggy woman has his attention this time. I don’t even want to know.
“I should get a string of fuck buddies to go visit for a week, rid myself of the tension.” I sigh heavily and
stare straight ahead bracing myself for his agreement which is going to hurt.
His hands falter, and pause, his body tenses and it gives me a moment of satisfaction. His thumbs
hover over the screen, out of the corner of my eye, putting it down instead, leaving the text
unanswered.
“If you want to be that sort of girl?” his tone is instantly different, tight-lipped, and kind of pissed.
Hypocrite!
I think he’s mad.
Hmmmm, well, if it’s good enough for the gander, or whatever that saying is.
“Well, I work as hard as you do, maybe I should follow your lead and play hard too. Seems to work
wonders for you?” I’m fluttering my lashes innocently as his shoulders tense up. I’m enjoying his
reaction a little too much, in a way it feels like payback. His jaw is tensing, and I notice his ear move as
a result.
“I don’t think it would make you happy, Emma … Sleeping around … Fucking strangers.” There’s
definitely an edge to his voice. His frown has deepened and he’s gripping the arm of his seat a little
aggressively.
“You seem happy enough?” I push on, feeling brighter.
See, Jake? Two can play at being assholes.
“We’re nothing alike … I don’t get hung up on the emotions of it.” He’s glaring out of his window now,
avoiding me, his voice still laced with anger. He’s trying to keep his cool. I know him too well and it
seems I got to him; the mighty Jake is possessive of his almost conquests it seems.
“You don’t know that I would. I don’t think I would.” I know only too well that I can’t. I know how I feel
when it gets close to having intimacy, hence my boyfriends not lasting long. But Jake doesn’t know
that. His hand drops onto my thigh, and he squeezes it rather harshly, biting with the motion.
Ouch.
Now that’s gross misconduct and sexual harassment rolled into one, but I grit my teeth and refuse to
show it.
“End of conversation, Emma.” He snarks at me darkly and I can see tell he’s raging mad, his eyes have
turned the darkest green I’ve ever seen, almost terrifyingly so. Maybe he does care after all.
Is this as close to jealousy as I’ll ever get with him?
“You’re the one who wanted to talk.” I smile sweetly.
“Not anymore … Drink your champagne and shut up.”
I clamp shut at his rude response , inwardly surprised but a whole lot of satisfied that I riled him.
Charming! Loss of Carrero charm in one fell swoop. Seems I’ve more power than I realized. Huffy and
seething.
Well, I feel better at least, a little tick on my imaginary clipboard.
One—nil to me, Mr. Casanova, who fucks women like it’s going out of fashion. I guess we were fighting
after all and looks like I won.
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