It’s after twelve. My head is a little woozy and stuffy as it’s ridiculously hot in the office now, stiflingly so and it’s making me feel nauseous. I’ve called maintenance twice to find out why they still haven’t fixed the AC yet, it’s blowing out tropical heat, rather than cold air and baking us all. My face is flaming, and my pulse is beating so fast and hard, like I’ve been sprinting. My clothes are almost clinging to me with dampness, and I’m irritated because of the inability to breathe or find relief. It’s oppressive.
Margo has left the floor for lunch and I’m to follow on her return. She was wavering in the heat as much as me, but I told her I was okay to stay. Wanting to prove my abilities.Ever the hero, Emma! Good move.This is a huge sign of trust, and I think she’s testing my capabilities, leaving me to man the fort and cope alone during a very busy schedule. It’s been three days since Jake returned and I feel like Margo is relying on me a little more. Living up to her expectations and taking it in my stride.I can’t stand the heat on my cheeks and my blouse is clinging in places it never has before. Sticking like a second skin. I’m obsessively clock watching for her to return, to relieve me for an hour, from this damned infernal sauna before I pass out. My switchboard lights up, my insides tightening as his voice comes across the buzzer,“Emma, can you come in here please?” deep, low, and sexy. I get the now familiar tingle in my stomach at the sound of his voice which I still have no control over.I falter but reply with a, “Yes, Mr. Carrero.” This is not what I need when I’m melting into a puddle on my seat and already out of sorts.Crap. Crap. Crap.I’m on my feet trying to peel my blouse from between my shoulder blades and smoothing it down without success. I pick up my notebook and pen, and glide past Margo’s open office door at speed and into his, pushing the heavy dark wood open and sliding in. I want this over quickly.“Yes, Mr. Carrero?”He looks casually seductive today, sitting behind his desk amid an open laptop and piles of folders. His pale blue shirt has its top two buttons undone at the neck, His dark hair ruffled out of its normally spiked style, as though he’s been running his hands through it, and his sleeves rolled up, revealing one of the tattoos on his inner left arm. A reminder of his rebel teen years. I know from images I’ve seen online that he has a few across his body. All tribal black tattoos and symbols; the effect is devastating even on me and I try not to react, annoyed that he still does this to me.“Are maintenance any further forward with fixing the AC? … It’s way too hot up here!” He leans back, putting his hands behind his head in a very “guy” manner. Stretching out and showcasing that beautiful physique, his biceps increase in size while straining at the fabric of his shirt. It’s hard not to get a little heightening of the pulse rate.Eyes down!“I’ve called down twice, sir … they’re apparently on it.” I keep my eyes averted, my tone level and sound as normal as possible.“Emma, you look like you’re about to pass out, I think you need to head to another floor and cool down.” His eyes run over me; I’m already conscious that I must look disheveled. I feel it. But the passing out has more to do with the way he’s sitting now, and my body becomes overly aware of how much sexier he is in just a shirt. Removes the formality somehow.Really, Emma? He’s your boss!“I can’t leave until Margo … Mrs. Drake, returns, sir.” I blink at him and resist the urge to let my eyes wander over his figure.“When is she due back?” he frowns at me, oblivious to the riot of hormones raging through my body. Or just unbothered by them.“Soon, maybe fifteen minutes or so. She’s on her lunch early, I’ve to go on her return.” I sound polite and factual. Trying not to squirm in my damp shoes and hoping I do not look as awful as I feel.“Soon as she’s back, I want you to go cool down, it feels like it’s melting up here … In the meantime, I need to dictate a letter. Maybe you’ll feel cooler in here, I have the air vents open.” He gestures at the wall of windows and I note the blinds moving a little as the small amount of air gets in. He’s right, it is cooler in here—marginally. Well, it would if he wasn’t sitting looking like that.Emma, again? Really?“Ready when you are.” I hold up my notebook to move things forward and kill my train of thought. He turns his chair so he’s facing the couch to the left of me and gazes at it, deep in thought.“It’s for the CEO of Bridge-stone … A man called Eric Compton. You’ll find his details on the system.” He is in business mode, tone serious and face focused already.“Yes, sir.” I scribble down in shorthand.“Emma?” his questioning tone clicks my attention back to him.“Yes?” I look up, at the tone of his voice, sure I’ve done something he doesn’t like. Momentarily phased.“You can sit down you know?” he’s smiling at me, amused, and nods at a chair at the side of his desk, pretty much in his line of vision. It’s why he turned his chair. I blush and come around to sit in front of him abruptly. I hate that since coming to work for him my inability to control my blushing has returned but he has a knack for making me feel childish.“I don’t bite … much!” He smiles with his “I know I’m irresistible” look. My eyes snap to him alarmed, and see the humor veiled thinly. I give a short-embarrassed smile, to cover my reaction, my heart upping a gear and inwardly chastise my stupidity. He’s a joker. Right. Got it.Don’t take things so literally!“I know you don’t. ” I smile coolly. Outwardly un-phased, despite irregular heart pounding and crazy goosebumps hitting my skin. Annoyed at myself.“You don’t need to be so … stiff, around me, Emma.” He relaxes back in his chair, dropping his hands on the arms, casually so.“Stiff?” I stare at his eyes, avoiding following the motion of his hands. A mild irritation fluttering within that successfully dampens anything else; I’m not good with male criticism.Especially about my demeanor.“You can thaw a little. I know you’re efficient. You won’t get sacked for relaxing.” He looks amused, but annoyance churns down low inside of me. I came to do a job and I have pride in my professionalism, it’s the one area I know I excel at.We can’t all be laid back, Mr. Born Into Money. We don’t all have the ability to sway people with a smile, have charmed lives with happy childhoods and irresistible faces.“This is me relaxed,” I respond tightly, training my expression to not betray my mood.As relaxed as you’ll ever see me, Mr. Carrero, seeing as I’m paid to do a job not pander to your ego.I pout inwardly, avoiding a direct look. He raises an eyebrow at me and breaks into an unguarded smile, confidently handsome and yet this time it irks me.“If you say so.” That irritating smug look he has that’s the other side to Carrero. It’s that face that makes women drop their panties in a blink, but he also has this annoying male “know it all” cheekiness. Arrogance. Like he’s always on the verge of a good joke, and it has to be one of his most infuriating qualities.“So, to the CEO of Bridge-stone …?” I raise my eyebrows, tapping my pen on my notebook, indicating we should move on, with a tight tone. I disapprove of his overfamiliarity. As much as I’ve seen him this way with Margo, I’m adamant that this working relationship will stay on a professional level. I have too much to lose. I’ve worked too hard to get here.He frowns at me, holding my gaze for a moment, unphased, but I ignore him, looking down at my paper expectantly; relieved when he sits back and dictates what he wants me to note down.“Is that all Mr. Carrero?” I finish my notes and push the pen in the top of the notebook with a sigh. Clammier now than ever.“I’d like a copy of the letter sent to my father’s email and I would like it if you would call me Jake! … Like I asked!” He lifts his feet to his desk, swiveling his chair back to face it and regards me with a relaxed, smug look.“If that’s what you prefer?” I’m not used to employers showing so little concern for titles, or who behave so casually. I’m more than a little disappointed in the laxness I’ve seen from both Margo and Jake so far. In the way they behave with each other and it has me a little at unease. Here he is, sitting with his feet on his thousand-dollar desk, like a lounging teenager and it kills the image I once had of him.“I’m not Mr. Carrero … That’s my father.” His eyes flicker to the photo on his desk and I catch a d
Back at my desk after lunch, the switchboard is flashing like mad and I Margo and Jake’s lines are busy. Nina has a few calls on hold, so I buzz her to tell her to put one through to me too. I sit down to deal with the first call and catch sight of Margo waving through to me, smiling widely. She points at her head, then mine, indicating my hair and gives me a thumbs up, which makes me grimace. I don’t think I’ve worn it any other way than up during my five years working here. I feel like I’m not dressed properly, and it bothers me far more than it should. I focus on the call.Half an hour later, I’m lost in thought, absorbed in a financial spreadsheet Jake needs by this evening. I’ve already plowed through a mountain of work today, making light work of it and not conscious of eyes on me until I hear the movement of feet shifting on wooden floor. Looking up absent-mindedly, more from reaction than any actual realization, I see Jake Carrero is
It’s raining by the time I get home and I’m soaked walking from the station through the few blocks to my apartment. Sarah’s out when I get into our third-floor apartment and I take in the coziness of the small rental instantly relaxed. I’m glad to be home, surrounded by our familiar comforts and bright rooms, our feminine haven. I’m tired, it’s been a long day and I want to take a bath and go to bed.I screw up Sarah’s note, informing me she has made Mac “n” Cheese, from the counter. It’s in the refrigerator for me and I throw the paper in the garbage.The perks of living with a chef. She works late most nights and I can’t remember the last time we spent more than five minutes in each other’s company. Our lives comprise occasional brief conversations in passing, and notes on the refrigerator which suit me more than when I had to keep her company every evening.Sarah has been my best friend since f
“Nowhere in the office uniform manual does it say—have your hair tied up like a school mistress.” The two women giggle rather surprisingly, killing the whole aura of mature professionals.“We work in a very high-profile business that requires a certain attention to image.” The heat in my cheeks rises with irritation, at the giggling, and the fuss over my hair.“Emma, darling, do you realize how gorgeous those waves are? You’ve such a lovely color of hair, like pale autumn leaves.” Donna chirps over enthusiastically.I lock eyes on her blankly, trying not to dredge up images of moldy sodden black and brown splodged leaves on the New York paving stones last fall. Ignoring how uncomfortable I am looking “softer”.“She’s right, Emma. I think you look so much more natural and pretty like this. I think Jake agreed yesterday.” Margo says a twinkle in her eye. A hint of a mischievous smile lurk
Less than twenty minutes later, I’m in the back of a large SUV with tinted windows and I’m sitting mere inches away from him. My briefcase on my lap and a pen in one hand. I’m preoccupied, mulling over the weirdness of this request.“That habit is at odds with how you present yourself, you know?”I look up at his remark questioningly. The way he is regarding me, and half-smirking my way.What the hell is he talking about?I realize I have a strand of hair between my fingers, absent-mindedly twisting it. I drop it and still my hands on my lap, internally cursing him out.For god’s sake …It’s the being unprepared, it has me on edge.Nice move, Emma.I scowl at teen Emma, always peeking at me from the recesses of my mind and smile tightly in response.“Nervous habit?” he presses further, looking smugger.“I don’t get nervous, Mr. Carrero,” I respond drily.
As the car draws up to a grand hotel, I’m not relishing what’s coming, trying not to over-analyze any of this. Before I know it, his driver is opening my door. I step out as Jake follows behind me; we immediately see the hovering photographers with long-lensed cameras hung around their necks and they pique their interest as Jake slides smoothly up behind me, reaching his full height. Even without touching me, I sense him behind me. My body suddenly on high alert at his proximity. Nerves twist my insides to mush.“Ready?” he whispers and loops his fingers in mine as he comes around me to lead, pulling me toward the doormen. I can’t concentrate on much else except the uncomfortable heat of his skin on mine and the way his hand practically dwarves my own. I’ve never let anyone hold my hand … Well, my mother, maybe once or twice, but she doesn’t count. It’s not a welcome experience and I have to steel against the urge to recoil and snap my hand away. Too soft, too hot, too intimate.
I sit and pay attention as we eat from the breakfast buffet; the business merger sounds promising and I take key point notes on things he will want to recap. I listen intently to them thrash through proposals and possibilities with enthusiasm and can see that these men are genuine friends. They have a rapport you can only find between men who know each other well. Sarcasm and banter interlaced with business talk. Jake is one of the ‘guys’ when he’s around Daniel.I can’t help but notice as I’ve been sitting cross legged that Daniel Hunter has not concealed his open appraisal of me, his eyes following my legs and arms intrusively as Jake outlines some points of business. He makes my skin crawl and I’m doing my best to ignore him. I catch Jake glance my way a couple of times, with an unreadable expression before he looks back at his friend.I look up occasionally from note taking and am intrigued with the differences between them. The friendship seems genuine, but I don’t see th
It’s been twelve weeks since I met Jake Carrero and I’m no longer unsure around my over-familiar boss. In such a brief time, the forced proximity and grueling demands has carved out an amicable relationship that doesn’t completely offend me. I find him tolerable, sometimes even amusing. I’d go as far as saying companionable. I maybe even like him a little more than I ever imagined I could.The full force of my job requirements came upon me in a tidal wave after the Hunter breakfast. Margo decided to throw me in the deep end as it was the only way to test my resolve and she had slowly been receding from the picture, until now. Now she is completely absent.I run after him to meetings, carrying files and folders, a wealth of information always at my fingertips. Awaiting his commands, always up to speed with every detail he’s dealing with, always involved. He’s an exhausting workaholic with a very hand on approach, yet I’ve never been happier or more challenged. I’m content.T