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

The Carrero Effect - Falling for the Boss (Billionaire CEO) Chapter 35

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“Emma! My little girl.” She releases Sophie’s hand and reaches out to me, her other one bound in a

cast and strapped to her chest. I hesitate, straighten my tailored pants, and blouse and walk toward her

dutifully, bracing myself so that I stay calm and in control.

“Mother.” I take her hand; it’s cold and smooth but feels like skin and bone and it angers me. She’s

obviously not eating properly again, so caught up in another affair of the heart, bogged down with

infatuation. She was always good at ignoring her own basic needs when wrapped up in another

unhealthy relationship.

“It’s so good to see you … You came home to Chicago for me!” her voice is soft and injured causing the

reaction to catch in my throat. Guilt, tears, anger, a chaos of emotions, and I can’t look at her in the

face, already uncomfortable holding her hand. I glare out the side window over the buildings in Chicago

and the dull weather outside, trying to remain impassive. Trying to steel against all that she makes me

feel. I want her to cut the crap with the over sentimental greeting, it’s obviously purely for Sophie’s

benefit.

“What have you told the police?” I smart. I don’t want to do this tear-jerking deep conversation crap with

her. I just want to make sure she’s okay, that she’s healing, then I want to get the hell out of this place.

As soon as earthly possible.

“Emma, please? You know it’s never that straightforward,” she whines, and I bristle and drop her hand

coldly. My face snapping around to lock eyes with her in impulsive rage. Same old familiar

conversation.

“You’re kidding me, right?” I snort in disbelief, spinning my body around to match my glare.

“You have no idea, Emma, you don’t know what happened.” Her voice seems suddenly stronger, losing

all ounce of vulnerability now that I’m peeking anger at her.

“I don’t need to, it never changes. Who was it this time? Another five-minute romance or is this

someone longer term? How often has this one hit you huh?” I snap; my temper getting the better of me

and Sophie moves off to sit in the corner. She looks uncomfortable and wide-eyed and it makes me all

the more guilty. She doesn’t need to see all this.

“That is none of your concern! This is my life and affects only me!” My mother snaps back at me,

yanking her hand back to her chest in anger. Not so frail now.

“Don’t you fucking dare! What about Sophie? … What about justice? What about me? It affects all of

us!” The tears blind me, and I start losing it. Bubbling up inside. I storm away, wrapping my arms

around myself and glare out of the window to pull it all back in. Cool down, be still.

“I shouldn’t have started a fight, Emma … This was as much my fault.” The same pathetic cringey

voice, the same pathetic excuses as she drops the attitude and goes on in full blown victim mode.

There will be tears soon.

I can’t do this, not again; coming back was a mistake and this is just a sad repeat of a dozen

conversations. I can’t hold it in, hold my anger or the heart break. My mother is once again ripping out

my very soul and throwing it to the wolves. She hasn’t changed at all and this could be sixteen years

ago all over again.

“This was a mistake … I can’t be here. I was stupid to think this one might have knocked some actual

sense into you. I’m taking Sophie to New York with me, away from this bullshit existence that you

inflicted on me … Don’t even begin to argue.” I swing back around at her, my eyes pouring pitifully; she

looks shocked at my obvious distress. She has never seen me cry, not since I was a very small child.

“You’ve no idea the chaos that you cause … “This …” I gesture across her body and injuries. “Is only

the tip of the iceberg, Mother! I won’t let you subject Sophie to more of the same crap.” I can’t say

anything more, my voice breaking, the tears taking over. I just shake my head aggressively and walk

out fast. Unable to say anything else or keep myself in check and not staying to have her argue or try to

bully me into changing my mind. I won’t keep being her doormat.

I already agreed to let Sophie stay this morning and get a bus home later, giving her extra money so. I

don’t have to stay and endure this. I have no reason to stand another second and blindly storm out

heading straight for the main exit while internally ranting.

I march across the wet car park, my coat in my hands, shaking and sobbing. The driver that Jake hired

standing dutifully to open my door as I approach, and I get in. I can’t contain everything going on inside

my head.

I was stupid to come here! I was a fool to think I could handle this. She will never change. She will

never see that she’s the one who brings this on. She chooses these men, then makes goddamn

excuses for what they do.

It only makes me more determined to take Sophie with me when I leave. I decide it’ll be sooner rather

than later as I can’t stay here much longer; she won’t talk to the police, even I know that. She will make

Sophie lie to them for her too, like she used to make me.

Deny she knew her attacker, and then what? He will be back in a heartbeat, until the next time when

she ends up back here and then? Maybe one day one of them will kill her. Can she not see how what

she does affects me, affects Sophie?

I calm down as we drive, wiping my face and bringing rational thought back to my head. PA Emma

winning over when faced with too much trauma to cope with. My defense mechanism kicking in and

numbing it all away, pushing it down until I am nothing but a cool empty shell once more.

I gulp down air, pull it all back in and focus instead on getting the hell away from this place. I hate

Chicago! I glare out at the passing scenery and just feel like I’m suffocating.

I pull out my cell to see an email from Jake, instantly bringing softness to my face and a lift in my mood.

He always brings me back from craziness, even when I think nothing will and I hurry to open it.

Jake Carrero has sent you an iTunes gift.

“Just Give Me A Reason” by Pink.

I gawp at it with confusion, sure I’m missing the message. I press play listening to the song, trying to

decipher the meaning for sending it and can’t. I glance at the time of the email and realize he sent it at

four in the morning, most likely when he was out with Daniel. This was instead of a drunk dial episode.

It seems to be a song about learning to love again … yet it causes a pain in my chest as I absorb it; it’s

beautiful and deep, but I can’t see the connection. The title confuses me. I’ve no idea what to send

back to him. Maybe I shouldn’t send anything because he was obviously intoxicated when he sent it. I

like the fact he was thinking of me at that time though, while surrounded by friends and women. Even if

it makes no sense.

Maybe it was a mistake and he’d meant to send something else? Knowing Jake, it was related to his

current thought and probably stupidly obvious in his state.

It plagues me as we head back toward my mother’s apartment but it’s a welcome distraction. Jake is

never usually one to be so cryptic either as his songs are either all about the title, or usually at least it

has some obvious message in the lyrics. This time I have no idea.

I slide out of the car and dismiss the driver in front of the shady convenience store, ignoring the two

drunk men sprawled on the pavement. It looks as though one of them is laying in a puddle of urine and

I grimace as I scoot past and let myself in the side door. I intend to pack and wait for Sophie to call as

we’ll be leaving tonight; there’s no reason to prolong the agony of this place any longer than that.

I turn the corner onto the upper landing, the keys in my hands ready to let myself in. A noise in front of

me causes my head to snap up in reaction as I take in a dark figure standing against the wall in the

shadows. I freeze, blood coursing through me at speed sending my heart rate up. There’s something

familiar, yet terrifying about the figure. I know they see me too and I don’t move to make it obvious that

I am rattled. They continue staring back at me.

“Well, well, well.” The hoarse gritty voice comes at me icily, my body recoiling inside and my brain

freezing at the sound. Even after all this time I know that voice and it makes my insides shrivel up.

Ray Vanquis stands five feet away from me, like a mad man in the shadows, his eyes glinting cruelly

before he steps into the light. All six feet of tattooed menacing rage and muscle. The devil from my

nightmares. I gasp, and my body goes into high alert, adrenaline coursing as I begin to tremble. Fear

gripping me but I stand my ground.

Oh, my god!

“What are you doing here?” I snap coldly, bringing my shorter height up to appear more menacing,

attempting to look in control. Ice and hatred in my voice as teen Emma bristles up getting ready to

defend me. Every hair stands on end.

“I came by to see Jocelyn … To talk to her.” He sounds amused because he thinks I’m intimidated by

him, but he keeps his distance. I reach into my bag and feel for my cell; it’s the only thing I have that I

can use as a weapon. My body vibrating with nerves. I have nothing else, not even my trusty mace that

used to be a constant when I lived here. I think of the baseball bat in my old wardrobe, something I

slept with many a night and wonder if I can get inside to get it, to feel safer while in the presence of this

monster.

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