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The Carrero Effect
~ The Holiday: Part 2 ~
Jake was searching under the water, too dark to see anything and scrambling with his hands at anything that felt like it could be Daniel. Panic gripping his stomach as he frantically surfaced for air and dove again. He had hit the water without a thought the second he knew Danny was in here. No cares that he was maybe too drunk for this and just endlessly searching despite his muscles aching and being so heavy he could barely move anymore. It felt like it had been hours instead of minutes and he still hadn’t found him. He wouldn’t give up on him, he wouldn’t lose his best friend this way.
Surfacing for air quicker this time he took a moment to drag more into his burning lungs and wipe the water from his eyes. He could hear yelling from the deck, crying from Leila and other voices but he was fully zoned-in on the surface of the water looking for any signs of him.
“He’s here, Mr. Carre
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The Carrero Effect 270
The Carrero Influence~ The Elevator Scene ~Jake walked out of the boardroom meeting without any clue as to what he had just sat and endured for the last hour. Margo had been glaring his way and nudging him with her foot under the table every few minutes and making him all the more aware of how ‘out of it’ he was. He had been this way ever since his father’s email had come in, informing him that Emma was back in his building; Back within reach and he had no idea how to handle it. He didn’t know if he should be happy or panicked that he could just see her around his building again, he wasn’t sure how the hell to feel about it but couldn’t deny the slight feeling of hope in his chest that he could bump into her.If he was being honest, he hadn’t had his head in the game for weeks, not since he had sent her away and today was just another prime example of how ‘not well’ he was doing without her in his life.
The Carrero Effect 271
The Carrero Influence ~ The Dance ~ Jake shifted in his seat for the millionth time and tried once more to get his brain to focus on the laptop on the highly polished walnut surface. He just couldn’t keep himself on track lately. The sound of a female clearing her throat startled him to look up and the impatient stance of Margo waving a piece of paper with a raised eyebrow suggested she had been talking to him while he was zoned out. “Sorry. What?” He frowned and sighed heavily, pushing himself back into his molded leather chair and rolled up his shirt sleeves in agitation. “For God’s sake, Jacob. I’ve been here for three minutes talking at you. You need to just bloody well call her.” Margo’s stern tone did nothing to help his current mood, and he just shifted forward again to try to ignore that intent, chastising glare. He went to his laptop, ducking his head in an attempt to dodge her blue eyes and typed something aimlessly. “Don’t k
The Carrero Effect 1
I smooth my hands down my pencil skirt and gray tailored, jacket before touching up my dark lipstick in the hall mirror with a look of resignation. My eyes scan and check my tawny hair is neat and sleek in its high bun and I scrutinize my reflection again, to make sure it’s precise. Sighing once more, I take a steadying breath trying to ready myself, pushing down the gnawing ache of anxiety and nerves deep inside my gut.I’ll do.I look as good as I know I’m capable of, and I’m mildly satisfied with what I see before me; a cool, efficient image of cold poise and gray tailoring that exudes authority, with no hint of the turmoil of emotion inside me. I narrow my eyes to look for any flaws to my immaculate armor, any stray hairs, specks of dust, or creased fabric, and find none.I’ve never been a lover of my own reflection, with my young appearance, cool blue eyes, and pouting lips, but nothing is out of place and I look right for my new rol
The Carrero Effect 2
Floor sixty-five of the Carrero corporation—Executive house. Lexington Avenue, Mid-town Manhattan.My hands are clammy and heated and my heart’s pounding so hard I may throw up. It’s grating on me that I’m unable to reel it all back in so easily now I’m here. I’ve been watching the hands on the clock move very slowly for the last few minutes and all I can hear is the sound of my own blood rushing to my ears. I’m sensitive to every noise and movement around me in the stark modern office, and the fact the shiny new keyboard in front of me is gazing back expectantly. I’ve not even begun to start working.This is so unlike me.I’ve taken twelve deep breaths in a row, yet my hands are still shaking, I feel like at any moment, I may pass out. I’m disappointed at myself for letting my nerves get the better of me and I’m trying to pull back every single emotion one at a time, to stow into that neat box in my he
The Carrero Effect 3
I’m absent-mindedly twisting my pen in my fingers back at my desk, and it gives me a huge surge of anger—at myself. Stilling the pen sharply and laying it down with a smack and scowling at it as though it’s the cause. Another habit from childhood that I’m permanently trying to overcome, and just one of the subtle tells that I’m not who I perceive to be. The only flaw in my perfect demeanor that I grasp so tightly onto.I fidget.And it’s so at odds with the persona I’ve managed to create for myself since my teen years, getting away from the life I once knew. A stark reminder of how far I’ve come from my childhood in Chicago, and a habit that annoys me on a serious level. Not only because it betrays the confidence I seem to emit, but also because it’s juvenile. My fidgeting occurs on many levels. For the most part, I’ve mastered it, but with my raw nerves this morning; I’m betraying myself.I still my ha
The Carrero Effect 4
She’s thinking I’m just another receptionist with the hots for Mr. Carrero. Another woman to fall at the hurdle of meeting him.I try to pull myself together, smooth invisible wrinkles in my clothes and straighten my body up, trying to get back my professional air and grace. I hate that I’ve shown signs of being rattled. I don’t normally break under so little pressure, and I’m not impressed with myself.I catch her expression warm up, 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 also reassuring. Just out of sight to my far left on the long cream Italian leather couch, the younger man is sitting below some huge prints of modern artistry depicting what might be naked women. I blink and look again. Yes, naked women.Ughhh. Really? Could you be anymore playboy, Carrero?Arrick is disinterested i
The Carrero Effect 5
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
The Carrero Effect 6
“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
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