“Emma,” he breaths sharply. Jake hauls me toward him, trying to wrap his arms around me, but I don’t like it. I’m in memory mode and men’s unwelcome touch firing through my brain. I don’t want him to see me cry over this, not over these memories and those men. Not over that shit or Ray Vanquis. My mind is a chaos of rage and trauma.
“Stop it … Stop it …” I’m resisting him, but he’s stronger and faster and I’m still drunk with slow reactions. The racking sobs making me weak and he’s determined to hold me.“Shhh. Shhhh. Emma. Shhh.” He captures me, cradling my head against his cheek, even though I’m still fighting, but I’m losing. I don’t like the noises coming from deep within me, like I’m spiraling out of control. I hate this. I’m not weak. I’m not vulnerable. The wails don’t sound like they’re coming from me and I push his handsI spend the meeting the next day wearing Jake’s sunglasses and nursing a hangover. My eyes are puffy and sore and my head’s banging.He put me to bed last night and left me alone until our first meeting this morning; he didn’t even push at me to eat breakfast or jog with him for a change. I know he’s walking on eggshells waiting to see how I am. He’s giving me distance, or maybe he’s just looking at me and thinking I’m probably mentally broken and could fall apart any day now so he should handle with care.I’m in cool and grumpy mode and I’m really excelling at it. Covering my inner turmoil and regrets; so far, I think I’ve snapped at every person I’ve met in triplicate and Jake’s met my PMS face with a vengeance. He’s said nothing about it, no funny comments or sarcastic telling off’s, just frowned at me. He’s tugged my hand out of my hair repeatedly, which is down because I couldn&r
The dance is nice, very grand with an awesome Asian feel. There are lots of authentic looking costumes, drinks, and lots of sparkly things to eye up. There’s a whole host of speeches and droning speeches before the dance gets underway, and as usual, the flashing of a million cameras. I’m so used to them nowadays I never really notice anymore.“Dance, Miss. Anderson?” Jake’s back in charming and happy mode and dazzles me with a gorgeous relaxed smile.“Certainly, Mr. Carrero.” I take his hand and follow him through the crowd to join other guests; it’s a slow song and he moves me expertly. Dancing with Jake is fast becoming one of my favorite past times. Like everything he does, it’s with a smooth, confident capability that seems annoyingly easy for him.“It’s a good thing you have a young female PA.” I smile up at him, feeling relaxed in his embrace, letting myself ooze into him.“Why is
“I think you like getting me drunk, Jake.”“I like loosening you up, starchy pants. Makes it easier to get you naked.” He winks at me and that devilish smile reappears, a nearby waitress gawps at what she has overheard and moves away fast. I can only sigh and raise a brow at him.“You pay me to keep my pants starched remember, and on! If I was, Miss. Loose and lively, I would be a shitty PA.” We move to sit at an empty table amid my disapproving scold.“I don’t know, might be fun having a drunk PA. A naked one would be even better. Would love to see you endure a stuffy meeting in full blown drunk Emma mode. Not sure I would let others see you naked though.” He shrugs again, pulling out my chair and seating me at the table. He gestures for another waiter seeing as our server has taken off.“I probably wouldn’t be a hit … naked or not. Especially with the stuffed shirts you have meetings with.
We’re finally home and I’m standing in my apartment. Sarah isn’t here, as usual, only this time it vexes me. There’s a crap load of male things infused throughout the apartment, and that rank smell of Marcus’s aftershave is over everything. I’m also aware that in the whole time I’ve been gone, I have only heard from her via text, asking about my mother briefly. I know I shouldn’t be upset. I barely touch base with her either, but I assumed I would have at least one call. Seeing as I haven’t been home in a week or more.I march to my room and throw my suitcase down in agitation. I have two whole days at home for a change as Jake is shooting off to see his momma for her birthday, and for once, I’m not being dragged along for the occasion. I know Jake loves his mother and he wants some alone time with her; he has plans to take her on a shopping and spa day, her and her two sons.My room is depressing, after the weeks
I opt for jeans and a T-shirt and leave my hair in a ponytail loose, pushing thoughts of Marcus away as a minor irritation, and focus on the task at hand. If I’m going to be clearing out a mountain of clothes, then I would rather be comfy. It’s not lost on me that a few months ago I didn’t even own jeans, Jake mentioned that fact in sarcasm right at the beginning.What has Jake Carrero done to me?I haul a pile of clothes from the top of my dresser and dump it on my floor, followed by subsequent piles around my room and open my door so I can listen for Jake’s arrival.Jesus, that’s a lot of clothes!It’s almost half as tall as I am. I really need to clamp down on this excessive buying from Donna, it really is abusing the company assets, spending so much on stuff I don’t need. I haven’t even worn half of the things she sends my way. I’m like her own human sized dress up doll.I put the iPad in my docking s
In great Jake fashion, the trip is organized in lightning speed. A matter of days at most, which pass in a flurry of a busy schedule, and before long, we’re heading to the sunny deck of Jake’s father’s boat.The boat is huge, we’re anchored a half a mile from the shore of the most luscious, secluded beach I’ve ever seen. I’m completely overwhelmed at the beauty of this place; the sun’s beating down, a gentle breeze and sweet salty air. It’s truly a paradise haven, complete with palms and white sandy shores.The crew is formal and walks around in white uniforms, the captain even wears a hat and everything we desire is brought to us by these magical servants who stay out of sight until needed. It’s beyond my wildest dreams, and for a minute I wonder what it would be like to be married to someone like Jake, having this life all the time.He seems so much more chilled out and carefree, a smile never far from that hands
The water feels luxurious and Jake is an amazingly powerful swimmer who looks as good in, as he does out of the water although he has pushed me under twice now. I swim toward the beach, but I’m too slow as he catches my ankle for the third time, dunking me again. This game isn’t so fun now; he’s too fast and too strong.“Stop … it.” I splutter to the surface, coughing and choking, wiping the water out of my eyes again until I’m met with his childish grin.“Only if you ask me nicely, tiny tots.” He smooths the water from his face, and I can’t help but notice his hair gel must be water-resistant, apart from looking a little ruffled, it’s still pretty much spiked to the center in his trademark “do”. Carrero products really are worth the high price tag.He swims to me and gets dangerously close.Whoa there, boss. My bikini is virtually underwear here, and you’re only half dressed.
We spend lunch on deck with the rest of the party, eating chicken Caesar salad and drinking wine, relaxing on the padded double loungers on the main deck. Jake’s beside me, leaning toward Daniel’s bed, his strong back covered in a pale gray T-shirt, in the mid-day sun. They’re talking about the New York Giant’s game they recently went to at the MetLife Stadium, while I’m leaning toward the bed with Leila and Richard, engrossed in girl talk and making plans. Leila agrees to take me to the mainland for some girly shopping, and to source a salon to cut my hair.I catch Jake staring back at me as she picks up strands of my hair, talking about cutting it short; he frowns when she mentions a real short pixie style, but I shrug it off. I wonder what he’s thinking. He seems only half tuned to what Daniel is saying, and more interested in how much of my tawny locks are to be shorn off.“I think you would suit maybe shoulder length.” L