“Glad to hear it. So, Emma, how has it been so far? Learning the ropes of life on the sixty-fifth floor?” There is slight humor in his expression, a hint of that Carrero charm he’s famed for. If I'm honest, it’s hard not to fall for it, but I know it stems from years of schmoozing with the rich and famous and is probably fake. He’s a pro.
“A breeze,” I answer coolly, avoiding that penetrative gaze he has going on now. “Nothing I can’t handle so far.” I allow a half-smile of confidence.
“Has Margo warned you about the frequent traveling you will have to undertake or the unsociable hours we sometimes keep? This job can be full-on, Miss Anderson. It’s not for the faint-hearted.” He’s frowning now, still watching me closely; it’s a little unnerving.
“Yes, I’m aware that this is not a nine-to-five job, Mr. Carrero. I’m 100% committed to my career, so it will not be an issue,” I reply without emotion, lifting my chin a little to show my determination.
“You’re young; what about a social life?” He still frowns at me, still tries to scrape away at my surface and figure me out. I would never give a man like him that chance.
“I haven’t much interest in many social activities. I left my hometown to come to New York, and I don’t know many people outside of work.” My voice sounds a bit unsteady, but I doubt he has noticed. He glances at me contemplatively.
“Career-oriented? Can be lonely.” He tilts his head to the side and lightly hunches his shoulders in a devastating move to my hormones and makes my body tingle and my temperature soar without warning. I gaze down to the floor for a second and take a breath to combat these strange feelings.
Stop eye-raping him, Emma. Have a little more professionalism.
“I’m never lonely, Mr. Carrero; I’m an independent person who doesn’t need assurances or company from other people to be happy.” I realize I’ve let my mouth shift into gear ahead of my brain and have revealed more than I intended to. It’s another old Emma habit that annoys me despite years of trying to overcome it.
Relationships bring complications, disappointment, and pain. It’s true, though. I’ve been self-reliant from an early age. I keep people at arm’s length, even Sarah, because it suits me to do so.
He narrows his eyes and studies me again, more probing as this excruciating chat continues, trying to peel away my layers.
“Oh, Emma, that’s not how a young girl like you should live her life,” Margo cuts in, alarmed. “You’re so pretty; you should have young men romancing you around New York.” She touches my shoulder with a motherly squeeze before returning to her previous position. I smile emptily and ignore the urge to grimace at her words. If only she knew how that thought repulses me. I’ve learned from my life that romance does not exist in most men's minds, only sexual gratification, whether you consent to it or not.
“Sounds like you’re trying to talk her out of stealing your job, Margo,” Jake laughs, lifting his boyish expression to the older woman, a complete change from his first smile. This one seems more natural and even more devastating. I catch the affection flicker between them, and it surprises me. She shakes her head at him.
“No, Emma knows I value her here. I think she’s a perfect fit.” She turns her cloudy gray eyes to me with a genuine warmth that slightly thaws me. “Not too sure how much you’ll like it once Jake starts running you ragged, mind you.” She winks and places a hand on his arm showing the special bond they seem to share, and I wonder at it. They have a casual and comfortable ambiance between them, almost like a mother and son. Very odd.
“I’m sure I can handle the demands,” I cut in confidently.
“Despite Jake’s public playboy reputation, Emma, I’m afraid he’s a workaholic. Surprising, I know, but you’ll get used to it; you’ll rack up plenty of air miles in the next few months.” Margo smiles again wistfully, this time patting Jake on the shoulder. There is a silent communication between them, secret smiles and glances, and I wonder how I will ever take her place.
“You’ll soon get fed up with seeing the world,” he says, giving me a comical frown with those alluring eyes back on my face; I hate how they make me feel naked. “And the inside of hotel rooms,” he adds with a mischievous smirk that heats my stomach with a flash. My insides flip over.
I try to ignore this remark, hoping to take him at face value and hoping this internal wave fizzles away as quickly as it appeared. I’m sure I’ll never see the inside of his hotel room. I can promise I won’t, despite his reputation.
“I’ve seen enough of those to last a lifetime,” Margo says, waving her hand and throwing him a glance I cannot translate, oblivious to my reaction. “Right, we have work to be getting on with. Emma, you’re with me for now.” She gestures to the door behind me, and I nod. Mr. Carrero stands from his perched position on his desk edge and smiles, reaching his hand out again while never breaking eye contact. Holding me to it.
“To our working relationship, Emma,” he says. I accept his hand, ignoring the same tingling sensation his touch creates, my skin ignited, and I smiled tightly to disguise all the feelings. Sighing with relief that this meeting is over, I nod before I turn and follow Margo out of his office, exhaling quietly and pushing all my taut nerves and anxious tension out with a blow.
Well, I survived meeting Jacob Carrero for the first time. My underwear didn’t self-combust, and I remained intact.
Strike Point one to me.