“Why I don’t get along with him? … Most women pry … They want the juicy details.” A hint of a smile in
his voice, a gross generalization of my sex. I curb the urge to eye roll at him.
“No. It’s not my business.” I answer tightly; I’m not most women and I wish he would shut up. It’s a
relief when we pull up in front of my building and I glimpse my chance of escape for a few minutes.
“This is me.” I point up at the block of attractive brown apartments rising above us; he regards me for a
second then gestures I should go and I almost exhale with thanks.
“I’ll wait here, go get changed … Something feminine and soft … Something you wouldn’t normally
wear.” He gives me an odd look, hiding his amusement and I have the sudden urge to throat punch
him.
Something feminine? Really? I’m pretty sure any clothes made predominantly for women are classed
as feminine!
Once in my apartment, I go straight to Sarah’s room. She’s still sound asleep in bed, so I quietly pull
two dresses from the back of her closet with a grimace. This doesn’t sit well with me, but I pick the
floral floaty number my mother would approve of. It’s not as short as the other one and I know she has
shoes that match this. I go to my room so as not to disturb her and change quickly, despairing at my
reflection with a curse and return to the SUV looking like some floaty hippy girl in love, in less than ten
minutes.
“Better,” he says, his eyes appraising me quickly as I slide in. I ignore it. Dressed like this I feel
exposed; I need my armor … my tailoring and hair to keep my PA persona with me. Dressed like this
I’m like teen Emma and it scares me, takes away my defenses. I don’t like to be unprepared.
The car moves off again and I sit back trying to relax. It’s hard to do when every one of your nerve
endings is on high alert. My legs are exposed a lot in this floaty dress, and I pull them in tightly against
the seat, pulling the hem toward my knees sharply.
“Why all the secrecy?” I ask in attempt to interrupt the way he’s watching me. If I didn’t know better, I
would think he was checking my legs out. His gaze has certainly covertly swept the length of me twice
since I returned.
“His father, much like mine, owns a majority share of his business. Family money. If either gets wind of
what we’re meeting about then they would oppose this before I can get things in place. Once I
maneuver this a certain way, they will be unable to refuse.” He sits back, turning to stare ahead,
instead of at me, thankfully. Finally, no longer pinned down by those green eyes.
“So, you’re going behind your father’s back?” I blanche, blinking at him as though I have no real sense
of this.
“For now. He would refuse to even consider it.” He shrugs and starts pushing at something with the toe
of his boot on the door. An odd mannerism for who he is.
“Why?”
“Hunter and my father have a history. They let their rift cloud what’s good for business.” He moves
closer to me, abandoning whatever he was kicking at. Almost a conspiration lean.
“And you think a merger, with someone your father hates, is a good business move?” I sit back in my
seat trying to keep the distance, trying not to inhale that aftershave or unique Carrero scent now it’s
closer. He smells too nice for my liking.
“If I do this right, then yes … We stand to make a lot of money.” He shrugs and goes back to looking
out his window at passing scenery, moving back again and I exhale.
“What exactly are you going to be merging with?” I relax, glad to have my breathing space back.
“They’re primarily ship builders. I want to take our experience and build floating hotels and spas
bearing the Carrero name. Modern conveniences with luxury fitness amenities onboard … Super
boats.”
“Like cruise ships?”
“High-end cruise ships, only a lot bigger and more pamper based.”
“What makes you think they will be a success?” I’m intrigued by his plan.
“The Carrero name … It’s what Hunter needs for this venture to be plausible. Their reputation of late
has suffered. They had a few multibillion-dollar disasters. They get our reputation and our name, and
we get rights to the designs they have in progress.”
“So, this meeting …?” I’m impressed with his idea and know only too well the rich clients of Carrero
would jump at a chance to stay on a floating spa. Carrero is all about luxury.
“To outline my plan … How I’m going to maneuver my father to agree to the terms. He could dissolve
the whole thing.” He looks serious, a return of boss mode.
“I see … What’s expected of me when we get there, Mr. Carrero?” Best to know my part and be
prepared so I can act accordingly.
“I just need you to look adoring if we see any lingering photographers. There may be press hanging
around. Daniel’s going through a bit of a media scandal … Caught screwing someone of importance
and then she dumped him publicly. Then, when we’re inside, I need you to keep detailed notes of
what’s discussed so I can backtrack later.”
“Great.” I grimace, wondering what looking adoring entails. Slightly nauseous at the thought.
“You’ll just have to follow my lead, Emma, and don’t get too insulted if I need to touch you.” He throws
me a smile, watching for a reaction, a little too closely. My eyes widen and I almost gasp.
“Touch me?” I flinch at the tone of my own voice betraying me. My heart rate ups a few notches and my
palms become instantly clammy.
I never signed up for touching.
“You’re my date remember … I may need to hold your hand, or it might look weird … When I take
women out, they’re usually inclined to hang over me.” He shrugs again, those piercing eyes back on
the front of the car and giving me respite.
Of course, they are.
This makes me uptight. I want to run away.
Great … Now he wants to touch me and cuddle up for the cameras; nowhere did I sign up for that in
my employment contract.
“I have your permission?” He glances at me hesitantly, waiting for a response.
“Yes.” It’s my job. I’m anything but sure, but what harm could it do?
Keep reminding yourself of that fact, Emma … I’m sure I can tolerate hand holding for a few minutes,
even with him.
“Good.”
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.
Suddenly there’s a small flash that startles me.
Crap.
They call his name from the right side of us, but he walks on ignoring them and pulling me toward our
destination, pulling me against the side of his body, his grip tightening and keeping me close. I keep my
chin down, watching my feet and for the first time glad my hair is down to shield my face. We walk on
and I allow myself to be led; there’s something disturbingly reassuring about it, despite my
reservations. I feel safer than I had expected with him.
The photographers are denied entry beyond the huge glass doors by tall, uniformed doormen.
“Are you here to see Daniel Hunter, Mr. Carrero?” a faceless voice calls out. Shrill in the quiet air.
“Are you consoling your friend over the breakup with porn star, Candy Kane?” Another voice. I cringe
…
What the hell? Someone of importance. A goddamn porn star!
“Jake?” A male voice greets us from inside the lobby and I’m introduced to Daniel Hunter. Another
billionaire playboy from a wealthy family. The two men fist bump in such a laddish way and do that
whole guy arm embrace thing, where they bump shoulders in a macho manner. I watch in complete
disbelief that this man is my actual boss, acting like a street thug while his buddy is tugging along a
leggy supermodel looking creature.
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