I catch Jake glaring at me across the table and stop twisting my hair for the fiftieth time; he’s been
touchy this entire trip.
Who would have thought a week’s worth of screwing leggy bimbos actually made him more goddamn
sulky?
I thought sex was meant to put men in a great mood, it must have been awful sex.
I look him up and down, trying to appraise that possibility.
I’m sure he couldn’t do bad sex, if I’m being honest. He has more stamina than most humans I know
and he’s an attentive man naturally. I wonder if women can make sex shitty, even if they’re being
bedded by a “sexpert”. Even though I don’t have carnal knowledge of his bed hopping habits, I am
pretty sure his confidence is a great hint that he doesn’t have complaints in the bedroom.
He’s barking orders at his cell and I’m glad it’s not me on the receiving end. Bear with a sore head
certainly suits his mood this past forty-eight hours. The lawyers are moaning and whining in the next
room over his absence, and I’m sitting here waiting with pen in hand for the notes he wants me to take.
It’s after lunch and I’m hungry. We haven’t stopped to eat yet and my hair is sticking to my face in this
oppressive heat. I regret not being able to tie it up and keep blowing it away.
We’re back in Vegas, same business, second time round and I wasn’t prepared for the soaring
temperatures. I move in my jacket uncomfortably and catch another glare.
God’s sake!
He’s been all over me these past two days, tugging my hands out of my hair, slapping my fingers when
I play with my pen, now I’m getting the eye assault for moving in my chair.
What’s eating grouchy?
I’m the model of professionalism ninety-nine percent of the time, he can’t be pissed over the one
percent which fidgets under duress. Especially when he’s the cause of it.
“Emma?” He barks and snaps my attention up.
“What?” I sound equally narky, he’s been a bastard since the flight, he can have some nark back at
him. He glowers at my tone of voice.
“I need those memos resent to Walters in New York; the idiot’s lost them on the system.” He’s still
glaring like that’s my fault.
Great!
I sigh heavily and pull out my tablet, but he kicks my foot under the table, making me jump.
“Ouch!” I react more from the fright than any actual pain, he didn’t actually hurt me but still…… Jerk!
He’s glaring again and I bite my lip to curb a cuss word.
What the actual hell?
“What was that for?” I snap angrily.
“Stop pouting … and rolling your fucking eyes when I tell you to do something.” He snaps angrily and
slumps back to his call. Growling at the world in general.
Wow. Jake has a whole new level of pissed off, it seems.
Fuck off!
This is how the last forty-eight hours have been, my once charming boss is now my asshole, irritating
as shit, dick head of a boss who’s been riding my back about everything. He’s made me redo a million
menial tasks that my assistant could have dealt with and he’s snarked at me incessantly. If anyone has
a PMS issue it is him, not me. I have the urge to throw a tampon at him.
For the love of god.
Even for Jake, the moods of the last two days have been completely out of character.
“I’m pretty sure kicking me breaks all sorts of employment rules,” I hiss. Throwing a warning look
frostily.
“I’m sure rolling your eyes and scowling at the boss will get your resumé chucked at you.”
He’s also not been in any flirty or fun jokey moods. If there wasn’t a room of stuffed shirts five feet away
through a glass door right now, I would have chucked my pen at him, square in the face. And I would
have enjoyed it!
Instead, I give him a sickly-sweet smile and mouth “Whatever you command!” I resist the urge to stick
my fingers up at him. Once again, he’s back giving someone else a hard time on the cell, my own
vibrates and haul it out.
“Emma Anderson.”
“Emma, it’s Rosalie … I need your help with some of Mr. Carrero’s requests.”
She’s been getting it too, has she? What the hell is with him?
“Go ahead.”
“It’s just some of the documents he’s sent down, I’m not sure what I’m meant to do with them.” She
sounds nervous. I ask her to go through what she has and tell her they’ve to be printed and filed. I go
through her concerns about some other matters and sign off. I like Rosalie, she’s precious, although
she lacks initiative and confidence. If Jake has been bitching at that little cloud of sweetness, then he
really is in the foulest of moods. Asshole bully.
I wonder why he sent them to her directly and never went through me, I normally do all of that so I can
instruct her properly.
I guess because he can barely talk to me without fucking moaning lately.
“Emma. Here.” He slides his cell at me across the desk sharply. “Stay here and take any calls. I need to
wrap this up.” He gives me a dark look, devoid of any pleasantries.
Jerk.
“Yes, Mr. Carrero.” I watch him stalk into the board room and shut the door noisily. He’s in aggressive
boss mode, he’s probably going to bark at all the suits and have this meeting finished pronto. I shake
my head at his back and concentrate on not sticking my tongue out. He really is trying my very last
nerve, and it’s taking all my will power not to tell him to go shove his job up his butt.
His cell immediately vibrates, and I swipe it open. I flinch at the name which appears on screen and my
insides die a little.
Marissa Hartley.
Jesus Christ!
That was not expected. I glance over at him, through the glass door, trying to figure out if I should
ignore it. I decide against it and then answer, my nosiness getting the better of me and I would rather
not get yelled at for ignoring his calls.
“Mr. Carrero’s cell … Emma Anderson speaking.” I answer icily.
“Oh! Emma?” she sounds shocked to find me on the other end.
I don’t know why? I’m his assistant after all, I sometimes do man his cell for him. Bimbo!
“Marissa?” I try and deliver friendly, but just sound pissed.
Oh well. What a shame.
“Ummm, I need to talk to Jake … is he there?”
Would I be answering his phone if he was? I mean really, Marissa, it’s called common sense.
I bristle internally and cross my legs. I can picture her doe-eyed face and have the urge to poke a Biro
in one of her eyeballs.
I actually hate you!
“He’s in a meeting, Marissa, can I help you?” My clipped tone almost betrays my inner thoughts.
“No … I just need to speak to him urgently.” She whines, her voice grates on me like nails on a
chalkboard. I don’t like the tone either. I glance again at him through the door, he’s in full CEO mode,
commanding the room. Somewhat angrily. I hesitate; his bad mood is enough to put me off and I sigh.
“Look, he’s actually in a really important meeting, all I can do is take a message.” I respond drily, she’s
just adding to my irritation today.
“Just tell him to call me back as soon as he can,” she snaps at me haughtily. The rich kid attitude
toward menial employees. The urge to swear at her is strong, but I bite my tongue and mentally count
to ten at speed.
“Is there any other message, besides calling you back?” I’m trying to ignore the creep of suspicion
sliding up my spine.
Choke on your own tongue, Marissa.
“Just tell him it’s urgent, that we need to talk. Today! … As soon as he can!” Venom in her voice,
intended for me. Seems the feeling is mutual between us.
“Okay … I shall, bye then.” I retort coolly and end the call before she gets a chance to say another
word. Smug at hanging up on her.
Bitch!
My fingers hover over the screen with temptation and yet I waiver.
Don’t do it … Don’t look, Emma.
My curiosity gets the better of me, and I swipe and go to his text inbox, the passcode comes up and I
falter. I know the codes to his cell; he gave me them … I’ve never needed to check his texts before
though. Most business-related enquiries come as calls.
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