It’s amazing what the human heart can endure when you have a will like mine. It’s amazing how you
can bounce back, like you were, no matter what life throws at you. It’s amazing how many masks I
must keep in my back pocket for when one gets smashed into a thousand pieces so I can slide a new
one on.
We’re on a plane already, and I’m cool and controlled and acting like yesterday never happened. Red
head is gone, thank god, and Jake seems like the normal good old Jake from before our vacation. The
past week or so erased from memory. Just like that!
All is almost right with the world if I can just ignore all of that. Forget all the tears, and ignore the crazy
way he makes me feel, that I can no longer honestly say is platonic. He’s on his cell, despite me glaring
at him about using it on the plane.
“Yes, that’s right.” He waves his hand at my expression, dismissing me as I picture us crashing into the
ocean. “No, it doesn’t need his permission, it’s my money.” He sounds annoyed with whoever he is
talking to. “Exactly as I sent you.” He frowns into space and I go back to working on my laptop. “As
soon as.” … “Let me know if there’s any more contact.”
He slides his phone off and chucks it down, giving me a wary glance, yet says nothing. I’m working
through a document and go back to being absorbed, ignoring him. I hate flying … It’s boring, stressful,
and I’ve done enough of it to last a lifetime these past few months. Life has just reverted to complete
normalcy overnight. I’m not sure how to feel, but it’s better than his absence and his anger.
“You look serious.” He’s appraising my profile as I stare at my screen and try my hardest to block him
out.
“I’m working.” I try and ignore that probing gaze.
“So, it’s your serious work face?” I can almost hear the smile in his voice and squint up at him … He’s
in playful mode and I just sigh in response.
Great, that’s all I need; he can be irritating in this mood, when we’re stuck on a long ass flight. Think
bored child without any toys, and only me to occupy him.
“Aren’t all work faces serious, Mr. Carrero?” I respond sassily yet flatly, refusing to be distracted. Still
not completely back to normal with him but trying.
“Yours is especially serious this morning,” he teases, pinching my cheek annoyingly and I quell the
urge to react.
Lord help me.
“Perhaps it’s having me up and on a plane before sunrise, boss.” I’m trying so hard to stay focused on
my screen and ignore his invasive hands or I will never get this done.
“Perhaps.” He’s smirking, I can see it from the corner of my eye. He leans out and closes my laptop
almost on my fingers. I flinch, pulling them away quickly, glaring at him icily.
“I haven’t saved that!” I point out.
“It saves automatically.” He shrugs knowingly, and I pout at him as I go to open it again, but he lays a
hand on it firmly.
“Leave it … We have a long flight … I want you to relax.” He slides down in his chair as though
demonstrating what relaxed looks like.
“It’s important,” I stress. Irritation rising.
Only I could have a boss who doesn’t deem his own company’s business as important.
“It will keep.” His tone firm, the flicker of irritation makes me back down wary of him still being touchy
under the surface.
“Okay, fine … You’re the boss … How shall I relax, Mr. Carrero?” I sulk as he lifts a hand to the
attendant and she comes over with the tray of champagne, he takes two and hands me one with a nod.
“Why is it always alcohol with you?” I sigh and sip it anyway. So not in the mood to refuse him.
“Proven method. I stick with what works.” He raises his eyebrows cheekily, all hints of annoyance gone
so quickly.
“The resurface of drunken Emma?” I’m still pouting, my tone tight as I say it and I can feel his grin
without looking.
Asshole!
“Maybe just tipsy Emma … She’s nice too.” He winks my way naughtily.
“Hmmm.” I’m unimpressed.
“Or just Emma … I like Emma just as much.”
I flicker a glance at him and turn away, unsure how to read the distant look in his eyes. He’s being
unusually nice all of a sudden.
Guilty conscience?
“Maybe Emma and her other Emmas don’t like you much anymore.” I mutter quietly, averting my gaze
to the bubbles popping in my liquid refreshment. Sometimes my brain has this amazing habit of saying
out loud the most random of little thoughts, hiding in the back of my head. It really is the worst trait and
I bite my own tongue.
“And why is that?” he chuckles watching me steadily.
“Because …” I pout childishly. I don’t really want to follow this line of conversation and start a row.
“Just because?” he probes, his eyes burning a hole in my face, being stupidly obtuse and grating on
me.
“Do I need a reason not to like you anymore?” I know I’m being petty, but a small part of me has still not
forgiven him for leaving me on that yacht and closing me out for days while he … never mind. This is
why I should never have said it.
“I guess not … would be nice to have one though. Can’t have random acts of boss hating being thrown
about.” He grins, adjusting his casual lounge in his chair while making it creak. I stifle a laugh, despite
myself; he can be funny sometimes, if not a little dumb. I frown, trying to bring back my pout in a bid to
stay moody.
“You could always just boss me into liking you again … bossy.” I tease solemnly, trying to retain my
upset look and failing miserably. He’s too good at always bringing me around.
“I might do that.” He watches me for a long second then frowns deeply. “Is it because I fucked off and
left you?” there’s an edge to his voice with this one and a knowing look. I guess he’s decided now is the
time to talk. We haven’t, not about this.
Shit.
“Maybe.” My voice is inordinately tight. Sensing his frown, even though I’m not looking at him directly
anymore; he takes the glass out of my hand and lays both on the table before us.
“We need to talk about this, Emma … Right now. Get it out of the way.”
Yup, this is what I feared. Boss Carrero tone, this is all I need.
I shift slightly to look up at him, my heart stilling and my breath pausing. I guess we had to do this
sometime. What better place than a private jet, thousands of miles high in the sky, where I have zero
escape.
“I had to leave.” His focus on me is almost uncomfortable.
“Of course, you did,” I say quickly, a little too sharply and chastise myself inwardly for bristling at the
first sentence.
“Stop it,” he warns. “Look at me, and stop fiddling with the laptop, it’s staying closed.”
I roll my eyes. His on me watching me steadily. He takes my laptop and slides it on the floor between
his feet away from me.
“I left for both our sakes, Emma,” he continues, still locked on me intensely.
“If I remember rightly, you left for your own … needs.” At least he has the grace to look away and sigh;
my face is flushing, and my cheeks are hot. Talking about this is making me uptight already. This was
never going to be a good conversation. It just hurts me irreversibly.
“Yeah, well, we had started to overstep the mark a little too frequently, as you kept reminding me.” He
points out calmly but there’s a sadness sin his voice.
“Is that what we’re calling it nowadays?” I sound pathetic, huffy, and immature and I actually hate
myself for it.
“What would you rather we call it … gross misconduct? Sexual advances from your boss?” There’s a
slight, but overall, he sounds calm. His face almost expressionless, although his green eyes have
darkened stormily.
“Um, no. Drunken antics that got out of hand … twice.” I utter nervously, trying to lighten the mood a
little.
“Three times,” he corrects.
“I’m sure you weren’t drunk in the car,” I add.
“Maybe I should have been.” He shrugs with one shoulder and shifts in his seat.
“Well, that would have been safe … Driving the way you were.” I sound more than immature now; I
sound sarcastic and confrontational and in no way ready to talk.
Why am I trying to antagonize him? Does he just bring this need out in me, to fight with him lately?
“I’m an excellent driver, Emma … I’ve driven with some of the best racing instructors in the world.” He
ignores my jibe.
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