Floor sixty-five of the Carrero corporation—Executive house. Lexington Avenue, Mid-town Manhattan.
Walking through the building with a brother who was looking decidedly pale with nausea with his ever-
present bodyguard, courtesy of his father, Jake felt that familiar ease move back in. The ease of being
back in his own building and in control. This was where he excelled in life. This right here, a building
apart from his father’s and it was his domain, all business conducted herein was nothing much to do
with Giovanni Carrero, just the way he liked it. Jake ran the sports side of the company while Giovanni
lorded over the hotels. The grooming line had come to Jake seeing as his face was all over it and he
had a million tiny smaller sidelines all being run through Carrero House.
His father had his darker dealings, and sometimes borderline illegal mafia shit, going on and he wanted
no part in the old family ties. He’d convinced Arrick to start taking an interest in his side of things; he
wanted him working alongside him rather than being pulled into Carrero Tower with the old man. The
further he could keep Arrick away from the people his father knew, the better. Besides, Arrick had a
good business brain, much like Jake’s, and he could be useful in a couple of mergers and acquisitions
lined up in the near future.
Jake ignored the constant flow of female swoons and smiles aimed their way, not so big-headed he
didn’t realize his brother was getting attention now he was getting older. Not that he cared, Arrick would
soon find out how boring the female attention could get.
Hell, the guy was obviously a looker, they shared DNA after all.
He stifled a yawn in the elevator and shoulder punched Arrick to wake him up a little, his brother’s
obvious fatigue was affecting him a little too much, and he needed to look like he was in control. Arrick
was still almost slumped in a ball and Jake leaned out and pushed his shades back, slotting them back
on top of Arrick’s head carelessly.
“Fuck off,” his brother mumbled under his breath, and the security guard just glared Jake’s way. Jake
glared right back, aggression prickling instantly to put him in his place. No paid heavy of his father’s
was going to try to lord over his relationship with his kid brother. He was sure he could take him, even
in here. The guy was about five-foot-eight max and looked like he could only bench press half of what
Jake did. Besides, Jake had years of cage fighting and mixed martial arts training under his belt, he
would give it a go even if the guy was ex-military. With the hot Carrero temper of his, he was sure it
wouldn’t take much, just another disapproving look his way.
“Get up, dickhead, we’re here.” He was a little too snippy with Arrick and threw him an apologetic
frown, his own hangover was there even if it didn’t have the magnitude of Arrick’s and he was feeling
rougher than normal. He should have had the sense to kill last night’s plans, he was sure as hell
regretting it now.
Who was he kidding? A night of craziness, lots of booze, a blow job in his car from that feisty red-head,
and a night of hot and heavy sex back home with Trisha … Trudy … Fuck! Was not something he ever
bypassed.
Margo swept out into the foyer in a heavy cloud of Chanel No 9 as soon as the elevator doors opened,
like a breath of fresh air, ever-ready with her professional smile and attractive body wrapped in
Christian Dior tailoring. She had served him well for years and was the temple of cool and efficient he
was looking for in a new assistant. He needed a new Margo to replace her or this was just never going
to work in the long run. Previous temporary assistants had either been useless or tried like crazy to
fuck him, and he didn’t ever cross work with play. He knew what he was looking for and he hoped to
hell she was right with this one, he was in no mood for another repeat of Gloria.
That chick had stripped naked in his office and tried to entice him with some oral before being handed
her resume and a swift shove out his door. He was maybe a loose sex mad playboy outside of these
four walls but inside was a whole other level of play. Jake was serious in business and serious about
never crossing that line.
He smiled back at Margo, his right-hand woman and slid her arm in his affectionately, Arrick humphing
and trailing behind with asshole, soldier boy in tow. All sorts of grumbles and complaints going on
behind them. Arrick was going to be pointless here today, and Jake wondered if sending him home
might be a better idea.
“You look particularly suave today, Jake, a little tired though.” She smiled at him in that motherly way
she used in private moments, fixing his collar over his jacket and tutting at his lack of tie. He rolled his
eyes as she shook her head.
“You know they make me feel like I’m being slowly choked.” Jake maneuvered her beside him once
more and removed her fiddling hand from his lapel. She was being a little too OCD about his
appearance this morning, and he wondered if he looked especially rough. He was feeling
uncharacteristically so.
“She’s lovely, you'll completely adore her. You want your run through as we walk in?” Margo smiled at
him adoringly and despite the urge to lay his head on the floor and take a five-minute nap, he nodded
instead.
Okay, this crap was seriously starting to catch up on him, maybe he was getting too old for behaving
like a rock star. Twenty-eight wasn’t that old but today he felt ten years older. God, he needed sleep.
He caught sight of a tawny blonde head over Margo’s shoulder, sitting down as they passed the outer
desk, a mere glimpse of the replacement as Margo was standing in between them. He was caught by
the interesting honey-blonde hair color, anyway; none of that bottled white-blonde crap of all his
father’s employees. This one looked natural which was rare in this building. In fact, it was rare in his
circle. Most girls opted for fakery as soon as they were old enough to hold a makeup brush and a
padded bra.
He had no idea why that thought hit him as he sauntered through to his own office via Margo’s open-
plan one, women and their guises were not things he ever pondered. If they looked fuckable, and gave
him a hard-on, then that was good enough for him.
PA, remember? No-go … No fucking.
He mentally shook the thought out of his head and aimed for his desk as soon as they were inside.
Margo had been talking nonstop about what he had missed, but he had completely zoned out on her
and hadn’t heard a thing. He felt irritated at himself suddenly.
Shit. When did he ever do that? What the fuck was he doing? Oh yeah, staring at some chick’s fucking
hair and having an internal debate on it. Get a grip, Carrero, this hangover is messing with your head.
Arrick slumped into the low couch under the naked lesbian painting done by Hunter’s cousin. He wasn’t
that enamored with it, but the fifty grand he’d paid to give the guy a helping hand meant he had to hang
it somewhere. He sure as hell didn’t want it at home and no one really ventured in here much except
Margo and now this new girl. The New York skyline was getting an unobstructed view of tits and ass,
anyway.
His phone vibrated in his inner jacket pocket and he pulled it out, still practically ignoring Margo as she
read from a clipboard. All he could hear was “meeting” “lawyers” and something about contracts. This
was not him at all and he was starting to realize fighting it was futile, soon as this was done he was
closing the door and taking a nap. Arrick looked ready to do the same and he could move the hell over
on that couch. Soldier boy could guard the sleeping duo if he had nothing better to do.
“Shall I get her?” Margo blinked his way as he focused on his phone, he waved a hand, and smiled as
if to say sure.
Let’s see what the honey-blonde was like. He sure could use some focus today and meeting his new
assistant might be that. He had scoured her file on the way over here and on paper she sounded a little
too good to be true. Career girl, smart, no rumors swirling about sexual favors to climb the ranks; young
and unattached, so ripe for trips anytime he needed them.
She sounded promising.
“Emma, please come into Mr. Carrero’s office. Thank you.” Margo was leaning over his desk and
pressing the intercom to summon his future number two, meanwhile, he was reading the text from the
chick with the elusive name, wondering how the hell he could see the same girl for a week and not
have saved her phone number under an actual name. He’d saved it as T.
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