Chapter 8

I swallow hard, a wave of fear creeps up from my toes and envelopes my body. "You and I need to talk … Now!" He slams the door, latching it so no one else can enter. I'm sure the entire floor heard the bang. My body stiffens, this is the last thing I need. Being in here and feeling the way I do; I have no defensive play for him this way. How can he just sweep in like a tornado and ruin me? All the control I mustered, all that inner calm, gone, with just his voice and a look. I turn away, sure he'll see the emotion filling my eyes as I pull the file from the copier, throwing it among the piles I've laid out. It's a good excuse to keep my head turned away, using the task to stop tears from spilling over while I scramble to hold on to any control I have left. The only thing I manage to say is, "Go away," my voice, small and fragile. His strong hand grabs my arm, yanking me round to face him, setting me off balance so I flail my arms out and plant my palms on his chest to steady myself. I recoil my hands at the heated touch as searing tingles race through me from the contact. "You're not going to Europe!" His eyes bore into mine, his jaw tense. He looks dangerous and wired, I think he's lost his mind. This is the first time I've ever truly been afraid of him physically hurting me, he looks ready to hurt someone and as I'm the only one locked in here with him, I'm nervous. The blood drains from my face, my body sending another surge of coldness through me in response. "It's not even a possibility yet … I've only just seen the job … I haven't applied." I sound timid and afraid; his face softens realizing my fear, so he releases some of the grip he has on my arm. This has nothing to do with him … He can't control your life. Stand up to him, Emma, don't let him stamp all over you. "You belong here … In New York … In the Carrero Corporation." He looks away, his rage sizzling into something else, something unreadable. He lets go of me and I move away, fast, putting distance between us, standing against a table at the far corner. He sees me move and frowns, as though he doesn't understand why I would be nervous of him. Really, Jake? "Please, Jake … This isn't your concern anymore." I turn away, confusion and heartbreak fighting one another. He's standing straight and tense, every pore sending me mixed signals in the small, windowless room. Why couldn't this have been different? Him coming to see me and treating me like this only serves to drive a wedge even further between us. "You're always going to be my concern, Emma … Whether you know it or not." His voice is lower and softer now. I turn back to face him and find him looking at the wall to the right. His eyes are transfixed on nothing, as he sighs heavily, it seems his fiery burst of anger has fast burned out. "You make it sound like a burden, like you have no choice?" I almost laugh as I say it, feeling anything but joyous, just broken. He looks at me, eyes slowly move over my face, his expression guarded. He says nothing, just frowns, infuriatingly, giving nothing away. Someone bangs on the door, causing him to jump. From my corner, I can see he's lost his angry glare, his temper fully dissipating making his body slump a little. Burned out from being the giant fire ball of fury that barged in here, he seems to have lost all his fight and I realize he's not acting like the Jake Carrero I thought I knew. "Open the door, Jake, before the office temps start a rumor that we're making out in the copy room." I sigh, overwhelmed, heavy and tired. I think I'm probably on the verge of fainting. Internally rattled but mostly just fed up with being an emotional wreck. I need a drink. All of this, today, with Jake, has been too much for me; from no contact at all to seeping into my entire day. Jake is like an all-consuming black hole. "Maybe we should give them something to gossip about?" he smirks at me and I recognize a hint of my Jake … My cheeky Mr. Carrero, he hasn't changed one bit underneath the 'bear with a sore head' demeanor and it makes me sad. Despite myself, a smile tugs my lips and I shake my head at him. "I could still sue you for sexual harassment you know … since I still work in the same company." I look away, shyly, as he unlocks the door, letting in an irate receptionist. She looks from him to me and back again before turning cherry red and making excuses to disappear. Jake watches her go but leaves the door standing ajar. It seems neither of us have the energy for this anymore and he puts his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunching like he's been deflated. Instead of making him look more vulnerable all it does is make him look so much more male and stronger. A pang in my chest, hits hard, almost winding me. "I'd probably deserve it." He shrugs, looking me up and down. I can't read anything in his face, only that he's no longer angry. "Don't go, Emma … Please." He sounds so sincere. It's so unexpected, it causes a lump to catch in my throat. "I haven't decided on anything, Jake … I need space to think … Not you, charging in here yelling at me and ordering me around. I need time to figure things out." I respond, firmly, watching him. Aching bodily for him. He sighs, heavily, looking me over slowly, more deliberately and I goosebump under his gaze. "I don't want you to go … I need you to understand that." There's a hint of that boyish Jake I love so much, and it rips through my chest like a chainsaw. He pulls out his hands and walks toward me, closing the gap between us, forcing the air around me to thin so I can barely inhale. "You wanted me out of your life a month ago. Nothing's changed between us. New York is my home, Jake, but maybe it's not where I'll find my happy ever after. If you're still my friend, then let me make my own choices." I step toward him slowly, impulsively, itching to reach out and touch him but stop a foot from his tall, powerful frame as I realize what I'm doing; we're standing face -to- face. "I want you to be happy, I do. I just don't want it to be in a place that I'll never see you again." He frowns down at me, his green eyes darkening to almost hazel and the intensity of his frown furrows his perfect brow. "The last thing you ever said to me was that we would never see each other again. Now it seems like you didn't mean it." The ache to fall against his body, and feel his arms close around me, pushes me to move a step away. I'm not stupid enough to believe we could ever go back. "Maybe I just don't know what's good for me when it comes to you. I don't know when to leave it alone." His hand comes to push a stray hair from my face, something he's done a thousand times before, but it never felt as unbearable as it is now. I turn my face, so his hand falls away. Unable to stand it. "You need to leave it alone. Leave me alone to get on with my life." I swallow down the tears, so close to breaking. "I know." It's barely audible, more a breathy agreement. His eyes lose a little of their Carrero sparkle. We both inhale, slowly, acknowledging what we know is for the best. As heartbreaking as it is, for me at least. "Walk with me, Emma … at least to the elevator?" It's such an odd request, one that leaves him looking so young and unsure. There's a vibration in the air between us, a heaviness full of tension. I hesitate, then nod and move forward. He takes my movement as acceptance and opens the door for me, following out at a distance. "Does this mean you're sorry for acting like a stalker?" I throw him a shy smile, unsure how to navigate this situation, hoping humor, like always, would break the tension. "No." He smiles back but it doesn't reach his eyes. At least we're no longer yelling. Now we're just quiet and reflective. "Nice to see you haven't lost your touch, still overbearing and arrogant." I smile softly at him again, walking side by side, trying to act normal yet nervously filling the silence. The change between how we used to act around one another is highlighted more so. We're just pretending now, the awkwardness of this walk, cracking the air. "You haven't even begun to see the depth of my overbearing stalker skills." He grins, the usual humor in his voice is missing. We're just going through the motions of how we used to joke and laugh. It's all very polite, hiding a sea of emotions under the surface. "Talking of which …" I hesitate and look around as the words fall out impulsively. Ray flashes into my head but I pause. Not here … People will hear. He frowns at me, sensing I have something serious to ask him. "What is it?" "I need to talk to you about something … Well, actually, ask you something … Just not here, okay?" I look around again as we get to the elevator. Too many curious eyes are glancing our way, wondering why Jake Carrero is walking me to the lift. Too many ogling women appreciating the sight that he is. The elevator pings as the doors open and I turn to him to say goodbye. Suddenly, Jake hauls me into it with him and I stumble into his arms against his hard chest as his arm slides around my waist to stop me crashing to the ground off my heels. Stunned as I gasp in shock, aware that most of the hall has just seen what he did. I push him away hard and angrily, trying to right myself on my own feet. Why the hell does he do things like this? Always manhandling me any time he chooses, like a freaking child. Even after everything, he still thinks he has a right! "What are you doing?" I snap, annoyed that my frustrations are met with a smile and a shrug. The urge to throat punch him is overwhelming. I try to straighten up, my clothes now riding up to my armpits. "You wanted to talk, what's more private than in here?" The doors slide shut, locking us in and I glare at him, motioning a strangle at his neck with my claw like mannerisms. "You're so … Aargh! Always with the grabbing!" I bark, turning away from him in agitation, ignoring the self-satisfied look on his smug, asshole face. He actually looks amused! He's right though, although there are cameras in here watching everything, they have no sound. My temper simmers down to minor annoyance as I realize he's done me a favor. How many times has he acted like this in the past? Too many to count. The eternal child in him is frustrating.