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

Chapter 146

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He’s going to see her; he’s going to stay away from New York and talk about 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, bambino, she’ll make you dinner around five … Make

sure you eat, okay?” He lingers over me, a look in his eye of reluctance. “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, pushing down all

my inner upset before he slides up and waves. He grabs my foot at the end of the bed and strokes

down my sole gently, causing me to flinch and giggle. He pauses, looking one more time 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.

* * *

Jake finally calls me around midnight, when he’s just getting to his hotel and he seems a million miles

away. I miss him so much, even more so laying in this huge bed in his apartment all alone. The security

staff have an outer hall that leads to a corridor of small rooms outside Jake’s main apartment, so they

rarely come inside unless needed. Nora left around seven to go home to her cats after I finally spent

some time getting to know her while she cooked. Here I am in this huge, modern apartment, which

lacks any home comforts, all on my lonesome.

“This hotel sucks,” he sighs down the line, sounding so 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 hotels for some unknown reason to me that I always found hilarious; all those

trips all over and he had me booking 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 he has Margo 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 elsewhere on

the sixty-fifth floor all of her own, 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 I frequently bend over my desk put her nose out of

joint.”

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

“I’ve never been in a Carrero hotel.” I exclaim suddenly. It’s true, in all the time I’ve worked there I have

never been to one. Ironic really. Never even laid eyes on one. I would never have gone to one without

Jake as its price tag is above anything I could ever have afford, they are in the top tier of luxury

accommodations.

“You’re not missing much … Think old-world Hollywood glamour and ridiculously expensive … Nothing

modern … Much like my father and his Godfather tastes.” He sighs and then I get it right away. The

hotels are his father’s babies, the style and service something he established long before Jake was

even a twinkle in his eye, and well, if it oozes Giovanni then I can see why Jake avoids it. He tried, in

the 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 are working extra hard to make you happy … Being the heir

of their empire.” I giggle at his defeated tone.

“Bambino … There is only so much ass kissing I can take, besides, they all dress like maître d’s from

Disneyland … My father really has no clue at all.” He pauses, going silent for a moment and I’m hit with

that tug of longing even harder. I want him here next to me already. I don’t like this at all.

“I wish you’d come with me,” he croons softly, almost reading my mind. “I understand why, Emma, but I

hate this. I want you here, laid next to me, not just a voice on a 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 that there’s enough time before the actual 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

isn’t appealing without you in it.”

“I miss you too.” that horrid tug inside me, regretting staying here but I know that going would have

caused a different kind of 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 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 the 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, bambino, dream

of a big hunky Italian with a naughty streak stripping you naked.”

“Most definitely!” I grin, my inner 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 so 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 in bed annoyed and emotional all at once, I force myself to lay down and close my eyes in the

hopes 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. My heart beating fast and loud in my ears, fear

gripping me as I come to, managing to focus on my whereabouts. I’m breathing rapidly with shallow

gasps, my fingers gripping the sheets cruelly. I was dreaming, horrid awful dreams.

What the hell?

I look around trying to gain calm from the surroundings, so different to where I was moments before. In

Chicago, with my mother. We were fighting … No … Talking. I can’t even remember exactly, the dream

already starting to fade as my senses become fully alert. 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, a 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 and touch it, instantly springing to life

with the merest trail of fingers. Jake and his love of gadgets. I scan around me, grounding myself again

and taking slow deliberate breaths, my phone on the docking port is nearby and I pick it up and dial my

mother’s landline impulsively, ignoring that it’s only a little after 3.00 a.m. After a long wait she finally

picks up. My hands shaking as I try to slow my erratic pulse.

“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 instantly more alert and awake as it dawns on her it’s me. “What is it?

What’s wrong?”

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