“No, I just want to stay here.” I sound normal despite the hammering inside my chest and the tremble in my fingers, ever grateful for years of perfecting this. My whole body just feels weak and surreal, and I’m lightheaded.
“You want me to order you some dinner to the room?” The look of concern is still crossing his face, and it endears me to him for a moment, guilty that I’m clamming up, but I can’t help it; it’s who I am.
“Why, Mr. Carrero!” I smile at him, hoping to look amused. “I didn’t know you knew how to do such things,” I purr demurely, and he smiles back, relaxing a little. Finally, that look in his eye dissipates; mission accomplished. I’ve always been good at quick recoveries, no matter how bad the shock; the mask is back on, and he’s none the wiser.
“You would be surprised at my capabilities, Emma. Maybe you’ll let me show you the extent of them some time.” He’s still eyeing me, only this time with that mischievous glint, and I try a more genuine smile and shake my head. It’s always sex with him.
“Do you want me to order food?” he asks again insistently with his serious tone back on.
“No, Jake, I can do that; go have fun.” I head towards my room in the suite and throw my coat and bag over the nearest chair. I just want him to leave so I can sit down and process what just happened alone. I need to think about what I will do if Frank Roberts continues to pursue me. He can crawl back to his hole and die for all I care.
Felicity makes a beeline for his room with her overnight bag, eyeing us weirdly, but he does not attempt to follow. As she disappears, his expression changes back to full-blown frown mode.
“Who was it?” he asks in a serious, no-nonsense boss tone.
Ughhhh!
I should have known better! He’s hard to palm off, even on a good day.
Goddammit, Jake.
I turn away, frustrated. I know he won’t let up; he’ll cancel dinner and stay here if I say nothing. There’s no point being evasive when he has that look on his face, so I resign myself to caving.
“My sperm donor,” I wave an airy hand as though I’m saying something unimportant, but I can already feel the tension in my face. I’m glad I’m looking away from him toward the open door of my room; I pull out my cell to cradle in the charging dock on the table beside it.
“Your father?” He sounds surprised.
You and me both.
“Yep.” I look around quickly for a distraction so that I don’t need to turn and look at him. I spot his tablet on the table nearby and lift it, scrolling iTunes to turn on music. It’s the best I can muster when he’s moved so close.
“You’ve never mentioned a father.” His tone is serious and gentle, his body too close for comfort.
“I didn’t need to. There’s nothing to mention; I don’t know him.”
“So, why is he calling? It didn’t sound like nothing, Emma. You definitely didn’t sound happy.” He moves closer to me, his body heat emanating against my spine, invading me. He’s so close he is touching me.
“I got a shock, okay? I’ve met him once in my life, and it was brief. I don’t know why he’s calling,” I lie.
I have a good idea why he’s calling now; it’s no surprise. He did this once before, a brief meeting when I was fourteen when he thought my mother had struck gold. He’d seen a picture in the paper about the Feed the Homeless charity she runs, but he’d been disappointed to find that she was as destitute as the charity itself. He’d been sure she was rolling in dollars and able to help him out with a few hundred to tide him by. So, here he is now after I have been photographed more than a dozen times in the presence of a rich Carrero, New York’s royalty.
Figures. He thinks I’m loaded and dating Prince Carrero.
“Talk to me, Emma.” Jake’s standing so close to me that I’m tickled by his breath against my hair. I move away quickly, tense and jumpy; I need headspace and solitude, not probing Jake.
“Go. I am itching to get in that power shower and let my hair down,” I flutter sweetly, moving further from him to give myself some much-needed distance, finally managing to look at him. His look darkens, and he presses his lips together. I know he’s contemplating pushing me further. I know that look.
He seems to think better of it, and the frown on his brow lets up as though the thoughts have floated away on the breeze. He doesn’t want to argue either.
“Want me to help take your hair down?” he winks, and there it is, back in full swing, that mischievous Carrero grin with amusement in his eye. I inwardly relax.
“I’m pretty sure I could sue you for such suggestions, boss!” I throw with a half-smile.
“It’s only harassment if you don’t like it, Bambina.” He grins as he moves close to me again, his fingers twitching at me as though making threats. I swat him away; he’s not against threats of tickle-torture in times of need. Not that he actually does it.
I just need them to leave. I need to be alone. I hate feeling vulnerable in front of anyone, especially him.
“Your ego is never shy, is it?” I say.
He doesn’t answer, just steps forward quickly and shoves me into my room so that I almost lose my balance. He laughs at my angry scowl as he turns on his heel and walks away.