Chapter 8

Seattle is miserable. It's rainy and cold and the meetings drag endlessly, another boring board of directors, and another boring meaningless round of chatter. Something I learned working in my new role is how much businessmen like to set up meetings to discuss nothing much at all and will take several sessions to conclude on something minor. The hotel is like every other we have stayed in and as usual we have a penthouse suite. Grand, opulent, and modern. Jake insists that when we travel, we have rooms in the same suite, so I can be at his beck and call as we usually work late from them. I spent the best part of last night having him dictate memos and running through his schedules and itinerary before he made me get up at the crack of dawn to jog with him in the rain. Jake likes conversation when he runs, so whenever we leave home and his trainer behind, he harasses me into it. I have never jogged so much in my life until I started living with this man. I'm tired by the time we get back to the hotel, it's been a long day and I'm none too pleased, when upon arrival, we're met in the foyer by a familiar looking red head. I inwardly groan. Felicity Crane! This is the one with a voice like razor blades and I have a headache coming on. She's also a screamer and the reason I carry headphones and an iPod when I have to live in the same suite as Casanova Carrero. I am instantly deflated. I give him a withering look and catch his smirk; he knows how much I love Felicity. She's been on his date list for a few weeks with sporadic hook ups, because she understands the meaning of casual sex! Seattle is her home base, although she travels a lot and meets us in random cities. "Miss Crane." I smile tightly and try to look elsewhere as she embraces Jake eagerly, with loud wet kisses on his cheek. Gross. Have some class for god's sake. "Oh, Jake, you look so hot in this suit, so very businessman of the year." She whines in that painful voice. I try to numb out the clingy baby tones as we hit the elevator. Like nails down a chalkboard. "You look nice, Felicity … New hair?" Jake, as observant as ever, although he only noticed because I pointed at her hair with scissor motions as soon as her back was turned. "Oh, Jake, you noticed." I can hear her beam and I shake my head at him and turn away. Even though I'm standing with my back to them I know she's probably curled around him possessively, like an octopus and eyeroll. I don't get what he sees in half the bimbos he dates. He's not a stupid guy so he can't get any enjoyment out of conversation with the brain dead. I guess it's not the conversation he's interested in, as I turn slightly and eye up the endless legs and tight ass of Miss. Crane. His woman all fit the same standard: gorgeous, tight bodied, and dumb. My cell vibrates in my pocket and I look down to retrieve it absentmindedly. "Emma Anderson," I answer, not recognizing the number and glad for the distraction from the smoochy woman molesting my boss behind me. "Emma?" It's a male voice, one I vaguely recognize, something gnawing at me in the back of my mind as I screw my eyes up and try to place him. "Yes, this is Emma." My curiosity evident, I sense Jakes eyes honing in on me with interest, his probing gaze, because normally all calls relate to him in some way, and the fact that he is also a nosy git. Being a nosy shit, he probably thinks I have finally found a date. Felicity is babbling on incoherently right behind me and it's distracting as I'm trying to listen to the hoarse voice on the other end, who is mumbling annoyingly. I have to plug my other ear to hear what he is saying. "Emma, I wasn't sure if you would talk to me … It's been a long time … Emma it's your father, Frank Roberts." The faceless voice slurs and my blood freezes in my veins, the warmth drains from my face, inhaling fast and I'm at a loss for words as I zone out whatever else he is saying. The suffocating sensation in my lungs momentarily knocks me for six but I push it down harshly and find some resolve to answer. "What do you want?" my voice sounds alien to me as I regain my composure, cutting off his babble. I sound as shocked as I feel and know that Jake will notice it too. A tremor of teen Emma slipping out. "Emma, I just want to talk … I want to meet up and maybe if you give me a chance …" His voice is weak and gnarly, it causes a creeping bile in my stomach to rise and an anger to swirl viciously from the depths. "We have nothing to talk about … Leave me alone." I snap aggressively and disconnect the call, my hand trembling as I fumble with it, trying to switch it off. Jake's hand is on my arm in a heartbeat, trying to turn me, but I stiffen to stop him. Not able to look at him while feeling this prickly. "Emma are you okay?" he sounds concerned as my cell vibrates again before I manage to turn it off; it's the same number. I blanch at the screen then reject it, this time managing to switch the cell to mute and shove it deep into my bag. I am overcome with emotion, and I don't want to be closed in this elevator with Jake and Felicity the "Crone" anymore. I can hear Jake asking me what's wrong again but I'm fighting to get my head calm and straight before I can answer. I'm shaken. "Emma?" his voice is intent. He pulls me back against him, his hard chest against my back, his face coming around the side of mine to see me. I block him out, trying to get a hold on self-composed Emma before I can say a word. Deep breath. Steady, calm, composed. The closing walls begin to move back out and I calm myself, pushing out of his embrace and against the elevator door with a palm to steady myself. "I'm okay … Really!" I give him a quick glance back and a tight smile, but his expression stays the same. He looks worried and only frowns at my reply. Felicity watching us silently. Suspiciously. Yes, Felicity. My boss often manhandles me, it doesn't scream affair! He knows nothing of my father, he's never broached the subject. Not that I would ever volunteer the information if he did. "You want me to send Felicity home?" he says it right in front of her and I catch her small intake of breath, followed by the indignation in her voice. "No!" we retort in unison. I don't want this kind of awkwardness. I feign a smile and give him a reassuring look as we stop at our floor. "It's fine … it's nothing." I warn, impressed with how quickly I've managed to sound bright and normal. All those years of hiding finally paying off. I head to the door of our suite and let us in with my swipe card knowing his eyes are on me; I can feel it. Felicity is for once, silent, and I think she senses the oddness of the atmosphere. "I'm going to bed. I'm tired, I'll grab a shower and a light snack and hit the sheets." I need to get away from his probing eyes because I know he will start to question me, and we'll only end up quarreling about this. "You don't want to come for dinner?" he sounds odd, tense; watching me intensely. "No, I want to just 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 dissipating, 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 some time you'll let me show you the extent of them." He's still eyeing me, only this time with that cheeky 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. Serious tone back on. "No, Jake. I can order food, go have fun." I head towards my room in the suite now 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'm going to do if Frank Roberts continues to pursue me. He can go 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 makes no attempt to follow. As she disappears his expression changes back to full blown frown mode. "Who was it?" serious, no-nonsense boss tone. Ughhhh! I should have known better … He's hard to palm off even on a good day. God dammit, Jake. I turn away breezily, 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 non-important, but I can already feel the tension in my face. I'm glad I'm looking toward the open door of my room away from him and 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 I don't need to turn and look at him. I spot his personal tablet on the table nearby and lift it to scroll 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, body a little too close for comfort. "I don't have 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's moved closer to me, invaded by his body heat emanating against my spine. 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 at fourteen when he thought my mother had struck gold. A simple picture in the paper about the "feed the homeless" charity she runs but he'd been disappointed to find that she was as penniless as the charity itself. Sadly sure, that she would be swathed in dollars, and able to help him out with a few hundred to tide him by. 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." He'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 head space and solitude. Not probing Jake. "Go. I really 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, and 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 cheeky Carrero grin and 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, Bambino." He grins as he moves close to me again, 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 does it. I just need them to leave. I hate feeling vulnerable in front of anyone, especially him. I need to be alone. "Your ego is never shy, is it?" He doesn't answer, just steps forward quickly and shoves me into my room so that I almost lose my balance and he laughs at my angry scowl. Turns on his heel and walks away. "Asshole." I yell after him with a smirk. He turns and blows me a kiss and a wave before walking across the suite to his own room and I'm relieved. I fooled him well enough; they'll go to dinner now and he probably won't remember anything about it later. I hope he won't, I don't want to talk about this, not with him, not with anyone. I want to ignore it. I watch him walk into the room with Felicity before I shut my door quickly. Leaning back against it for a moment to steady my nerves and reel a little from shock, I exhale slowly. Who the hell did he think he was, calling me after all this time? I stifle the lump of emotion caught in my throat and shake it off. I won't succumb to tears over that scum bag, he deserves none of my tears, nor my time. * * * My shower is hot, steamy, and satisfying. I come out flushed and breathless and figure I maybe should have gone easy on the temperature gauge. My head's swimming a little, and I'm still feeling fragile. I haul on my nightdress and robe to try and cool off, pad out into the empty room, and instantly know that I'm alone. I had been in the shower an hour and they must have left for dinner. It feels good to be able to chill out and have some alone time though. I mulled over the call enough in the shower and I'm tired of thinking about it. I'll have to screen my calls from now on, maybe change my number. I'll need to call my mother; I have an inkling that she was behind him getting it and it pisses me off immensely. Always a sucker for a goddamn sob story. She needs to get a grip. I have been in the social pages a lot over the last few weeks on Jake's arm at various functions. I guess he figures I've hit a goldmine and wants to see what he can get out of me. I push the bile down in my throat bitterly as I think about the fact that all I am to him is a meal ticket. Heart aching with the reality of it. He's a prick. A money grabbing asshole. He's never wanted any part of my life, except when he thought my mother could throw some cash his way and now, here he is again. Sleazing his way out of his dark hole once more. I'm not my mother, I'm not some sap who can be pulled around by a garbled confession, asking to get back in my life. I pace to the bar in the corner and slam my hands on the counter, that old familiar rage in me creeping out, teen Emma's rage. I hate him for that, hate him for making that part of me resurface. A part of me I try so hard to quell. I reach out to the crystal decanters and pour myself a large brandy. I'm not one for hard liquor but I need to quell all these emotions funneling up my throat. I need to get back in control. Relax a little. * * * I don't know how many brandies I drink, but the hotel floor gets really comfy and plush. It feels a little warm and I'm enjoying the soothing music coming from the surround sound. Jake's playlist is on repeat, he has an eclectic taste in music, but I like it; every song makes me think of him and I wish he was here on the floor beside me, enjoying this feeling. If I don't move my head doesn't swim too much but it feels kind of nice, like lying on a Lilo on the sea and drifting away into oblivion. I like the way my hair fans out and I can stroke its silkiness, mingled with fluffy floor, heightening my woozy senses. I never realized how soft my hair was before now, I should leave it loose more often. The ceiling looks amazing from down here too, smooth like whipped cream that's been spread out over an expensive cake. I am distracted by the distant noise above my head and feet come into view as I tilt back to see, upside down. Tall black stilettos on gazelle like legs, followed by black tailored pants over expensive shoes. Even his shoes and legs are screwable! They have returned! I giggle naughtily at being caught in such a compromising way. I wonder what they will make of drunk Emma laying sprawled on the floor. I find it highly amusing in my current state, and really have no cares about it at all. It's semi-dark with only the lights on dim and I can see they're walking toward me, maybe they can't see me. I chuckle again with mischief and pretend to be invisible. If I close my eyes, I'm sure they will go right on by, maybe they might even walk over me. "Emma?" his deep tone catches my attention. "Jake." I smile, opening my eyes again in a fluttery devilish way. Oops, busted. He found me. "Emma are you drunk?" his voice sounds husky with amusement and I laugh in answer as he moves toward me, stands over me looking down. Oh boy, is it a breathtaking view! His tie is off and draped casually round his shoulders, his white shirt open at the collar, his jacket discarded somewhere already. Why did I never notice just how fuckable my boss is? I hiccup, and it feels funny in my throat, sounds so weird to me that it makes me giggle again. I like being drunk, I'm lighter and more fun; it makes me think Jake is sex worthy and that's pretty hilarious. I don't find men a turn on at all, so that's even funnier … Well, except Jake! He's the exception to the rule in that everything he does is panty warming and alluring, even standing staring at me as he is now. I'm hit with a strange sound. It's me. I'm laughing; I guess I find myself amusing and I sound so detached and not here. I must be really drunk. "Emma, I think you better get in bed. Come on." He leans down to catch my hand from across my stomach, but I leave it floppy and weighted, so he gets nowhere pulling at it. I don't want to hold hands today, Carrero. You're looking a tad too Casanova tonight. When he picks it up again, he tugs, but I refuse to cooperate. Deliberately going limp and weighing myself down. Nope, I'm not going to hold hands with my hot boss while he's swooning around looking all sexy on me. I giggle again. Too heavy and too comfy to move. I want to sleep on my fluffy floor. It's nice here. It feels good. "Wan sssstay right here," I slur, I can hear it now and it amuses me even more. I've never heard myself slur before, never allowed myself to drink to the point of slurring. I spot my hand held in front of me and prod dementedly at the air as if I'm trying to make a point, fascinated at the uncoordinated motion of my own limb as it waves above me. Everything feels dreamlike and warm and these are someone else's hands. He frowns at me and I have the urge to poke him between the eyebrows. They are too even and straight to be real. "You prefer the hotel rug to a bed?" he can't speak without smiling, so I guess he is finding me entertaining this way. He has a beautiful smile. No! A gorgeous smile! "Hmmm mmm hmmmm." That was almost an answer, I think. God, why did I drink so much brandy? Everything is swaying and soft. If I close my eyes, maybe I'll hear something soothing like the ocean, like I'm on the ocean. Oh, yeah, the sperm donor and all those tidal waves of emotions I was trying to drown. "Right, that's it." He scoops down and slips his hands under me, hoists me up effortlessly as though I weigh nothing. I'm too drunk to fight, or squeal, and I'm being carried like a baby towards my room. Freaky Lisa comes to mind, and I wonder if this is part of her fetish fancies, it makes me giggle some more. God, I feel amazing; why can't I always feel like this? "No! Don't want to go to bed." I sound petulant, like a child, and start struggling. If I go to bed, I'll stop feeling this way. I may lose this warm feeling and blank mind euphoria; I may start fixating on shitty fathers who abandon their kids in infancy. Pricks who only see dollar signs instead of the damage they have caused. "Emma, hold still." He fusses, struggling to hold me. "No. Nope, nope." I shake my head and he finally stops and puts my writhing body on my own bare feet outside my door before he drops me, but upright isn't good. It really disorientates me as everything sways. I giggle then have the overwhelming urge to "Shhh" him. Which I do with a grand finger gesture on my lips. He talks too much. He stifles a laugh, and it sounds good; looks even better. I like Jake's laugh, it's so free and boyish, uncomplicated and deep. Like him. I could listen to his laugh for an eternity, it always makes me feel like smiling too. He frowns at me, but I know it's not a real frown, it's an, "I think you're a funny drunk," frown and it makes him cuter. Is my boss cute? I guess he can be when he looks like that. God, that makes me feel sad. Why does he have to be so cute? "Emma? What is it?" he frowns at me some more, moving close; I guess my sad face is on show. I poke his dimple gently with my fingertip as if to eradicate the object of my sadness and the frown on my face turns to gentle accusation. "Why do you have to be soooo …?" my fingers wave and I notice there's a shiny sparkly thing on the table behind him. I always liked sparkly things as a child; I want to play with it. It looks like my cell and it's all lit up and memorizing, I'm like a magpie to a pretty sparkle and detour to bypass him. "So? … What?" he tries to pull me back to him as I attempt a grab at the object of my interest on the unit. His arms loosely around me, his upper body tilted back so he can look down at me. It's hard to walk in a straight line and harder to control my limbs when a strong pair of arms are hauling you back. "Sooo … What are you talking about?" I turn back at him confused, my head slightly spinning and I've no idea what he said. I glance back at sparkly and see it's just my cell that I'm trying to catch and lose interest immediately. It's no longer lit up. "Emma, I've never seen you plastered. You just decided to have yourself a one women party on the floor, without me?" he's still smiling and regarding me affectionately. I love Jake's smile … It makes me sigh and go all warm and gooey. I "Shhh" him again, except this time it's his mouth I cover with splayed palms. His lips are soft and tickly under my hands. If I cut off the sexy voice, and adorable smile that goes with the cute look, then I can forget how screwable my boss is. I look around, seeing the cell again and I remember who called. "My father called me you know?" I point out childishly. Yes, he did, that sad excuse of a human being dialed my number and connected to my cell. Asshole, scumbag! "I'm aware of that, Emma … Do you want to talk about it? Is that why you got drunk?" Jake holds me against him, leaning back to see my face again; I tilt up, liking what I see once more. You're my dreamy boss. I like you. "No … Yes … No … Who?" I forget the question while trying to give an answer, and he shakes his head at me. I'm perplexed, but I don't know why, and I'm sure he's holding onto me a little too closely suddenly. It's awfully warm now. I wonder where Felicity has gone. I hope she's not the jealous type, not that she should be … I don't do sex … Or feelings … Jake sees me as he would a sister, or a platonic friend, I guess. That thought annoys me a little. He is sex-able tonight. "Emma, I really think you need some sleep, or coffee?" he loses the frown, and a little seriousness clouds his tone. "I don't like coffee." The stuff stinks and tastes worse. I don't know why Jake drinks so much of it; I prefer brandy. I giggle as he pulls me toward the couch and maneuvers me onto the cool soft seat, lifting my feet up to the next space to me, laying me flat on my back. Smooth move, Carrero. The motion makes me laugh again and I like how it sounds. I never giggle like this. It feels very unlike me in every way. I've turned into a giggler with zero control over it. "You stay like that while I make you a drink … Tea? Water?" he asks. "Brandy!" I never liked the stuff at all, it burns going down, but it did start to taste good after the third one and the side effects are positively awesome. "No, Emma. No more alcohol." He sounds stern, bossy, and paternal … Like a father should. It brings sperm donor back to the forefront of my swirling thoughts. "Why didn't he want me, Jake?" I query sadly. I talk to the ceiling, it feels a bit like I'm lying on a shrink's couch, like in the movies when sad people talk to psychiatrists in stark offices on green couches and stare at boring ceilings. I note the ceiling no longer looks smooth and creamy; it looks shitty. Maybe Jake could be my shrink. "Because he's an idiot. Not all men are cut out to be fathers." I catch the sound of the clink of glasses or mugs. That's true. See, he's a good shrink … he seems to understand. "What's wrong with me?" That's a good question to ask a shrink, as I want to know. His face appears above me and I jump a little in fright; I wasn't expecting him so suddenly, maybe it wasn't sudden. I have been taking long pauses to daydream between replies. This is a weird angle, but even down here he looks gorgeous. Why can't you look ugly from at least one angle, Carrero? Even the odds up a little. Maybe have a double chin or something. "Nothing … You deserve so much more than someone like him." He seems serious, and just hot. Too hot. "I'm part of him … I have his blood … But he didn't want to know me." I sigh dejectedly as he moves from above me and on to the couch beside me; he has a glass which clinks with ice and slides it on the low table to my left. He sits near my head so he can look down at my face and he's no longer smiling. He seems blank. "Does he want to know you now? Is that why he called?" he frowns once more, watching me pensively. "He wants money." I point out as a matter of fact. Yes, as much as he can lay his grubby little hands on. Filthy, scum bag, gold digger. "Money?" he pauses to watch me. His tone that of surprise. "He thinks I'm loaded, because I'm always in the papers … with you … Probably thinks we're in love." I laugh at this little fact, but Jake doesn't laugh, he just goes on watching me and sips from his own mug before looking lost in thought. I can smell coffee and guess he's not drunk at all. "Why are you chewing your lip like that?" I ask him, reaching up and prodding him gently in the dimple again. Jake has a touchable face. I've never noticed before how much his face cries out to be touched; there's a beauty about his features, even his designer stubble, that makes your fingers itch to trace the lines and curves. He has a dimple on each side that should be investigated. "I'm thinking, Emma … stop poking me in the face, woman," he chides with a frown and I push at it a little harder with my pointer finger, irritated at him calling me "woman". Asshole! "You're very touchy-feely when you're drunk, aren't you?" he catches my finger and pushes it down. He has a cheek calling anyone touchy-feely. Mr. Hands-On, Carrero! "You've a touchy kind of face." I smile but spinning starts to take over and I decide to lay still to see if it will pass. I lay watching his green eyes in the dim light and wonder what he's thinking about. Mesmerized by the way his eyes change with his moods. Sometimes they're dark and almost brown, other times pale and almost aqua. Normally, they're a very bright, almost emerald green. When I love them the most. "Hmmmm." He looks at me in an odd way, and I can still see the hint of a frown; I stifle the urge to poke it again. "Hmmmm!" I mimic in a mock deep male tone. "What's 'hmmmmm' all about?" Jake can be exasperating! I like Jake. I'm glad he's my boss! I think we get on better than most boss-employees do. "It's just hmmm … You're drunk. You're making very little sense, and your grabby hands are a little distracting. I think I need to put you to bed." He's not in playful mode, which is disappointing. What does he mean, "grabby hands"? I hold my hands up in front of me to look but they don't look "grabby" at all. I was merely having a little feel of a beautiful thing. He sighs, pushing me to note he's closer, leaning down to peer at my face as if he's trying to gauge just how drunk I still am. I have the urge to say "Hello" or "Peek-a-Boo". "Where's your hot Crone?" I laugh at my own joke. It's rather funny. Miss Crane … Crone … Get it? He smiles, sighing deeply as though he has no idea what to do with me anymore. I notice that when he moves his jaw in any little way, his ear moves slightly and become fascinated by it. I wonder if all men have this special talent. Would you call it a talent? Ear wiggling … Special skill of sexiness. I giggle again. "Emma, you've seriously lost your filter." He laughs at me, looking at me in a "what am I going to do with my plastered PA" kind of way. I reach up to poke his dimple again, but he catches my hand and pushes it down firmly. Damn, he's quick. "Mr. Cartierro leave my fingers alone," I sound out properly in a British accent. Amused. Now that's funny, because Cartier is one of his favorite places to spend huge amounts of money on leggy dates like Crone. I'm making him laugh, when he smiles naturally like that it makes me want to smile too. He's infectious. God, I could lick that smile, it's so delicious. I want to taste it. "As amusing as this is, Emma, you're going to have to go to bed. As much fun as you are drunk, I think I'll get more sense out of you over breakfast." He puts his mug down on the table with a decisive glance my way. "I don't want to sleep" I pout, full child mode returning. "Tough, you're going to bed. I have a duty of care." He scolds softly. "I won't go, you can't make me." I'm sure my childhood sulky face still exists, I'm pretty sure it's making a comeback. I try and swat his face and hands as he reaches to help me up. "Aargh. Emma!" He runs his fingers through his styled hairdo, messing it up. I think he's frustrated with me, but I don't care as I don't want to go to bed to be alone with my own mind. I ogle his fussed hair. I like it better like that; less groomed and perfect, a little rugged. It really does make him look so much hotter. That "just fucked" look. I didn't think that was possible. I reach out and tousle it some more; I've never touched his hair and it feels nice, kind of thick and smooth, a little crunchy with product, yet sensual. He catches my fingers, pulling my hands in between us and keeps hold of them tightly. He's giving me a testy look and I wonder again where his date has gone. She's lucky, because she gets to run her fingers through his hair anytime, she wants and that upsets me. "If I have to drag you in there and put you to bed, I will. I'm not against hauling you and holding you down." There's seriousness in his eye. He looks like boss Carrero and that means no messing about. "Promises, promises." I tut, wriggling a hand free to poke him again in the dimple, he's not smiling but I remember where it is. Bullseye. "Fuck's sake, Emma. What you do to me woman!" He scoops me up speedily and I squeal. He's so fast it makes the room tilt and I grab on for dear life and try not to choke him with my vice like grip, my face almost pressed into his. He can walk fast and in a few easy strides we're already in my room and he's pulling back my sheets with one hand. "Are you mad?" I suddenly turn tearful. I don't want my gorgeous, swoony boss, angry at me. "No, Emma, I'm not mad." He lays me in the bed and pushes me onto my pillow softly. He pulls up my sheets and tucks me in like I'm a child. Taking great care to do so. I don't remember my mother ever doing this for me. No one has ever done this for me. "You don't like drunk Emma?" I ask warily. Upset at myself now. He gently smiles down at me and runs a careful hand across my hair then down my cheek, soothing me. The back of his fingers feathering softly across my face, igniting tingles over my skin. I don't think he's mad, and it makes me feel better. His touch has the same effect as a calming wave; that gentle look on his face relaxing me back to submissive. "I do like drunk Emma … maybe a little too much." He seems distant when he says it and his eyes darken; he frowns, then quickly smooths it away. "I don't like drunk, Emma." I sigh and close my eyes. I'm jealous that Jake likes drunk Emma. She's a bitch. I close my eyes but when I do, the face of that weasel man at my mother's table when I was fourteen sways in. I had just walked in from school and she had figured a cozy dinner to introduce my father was a good idea. How wrong she was. My brain swivels forward, drunkenness opening doors and letting my mind lose control. My mother with her various men and I recall their faces swimming past me in a rush, like a subway train until it stops on one looming grin that causes me shiver internally. That looming face which sometimes wakes me in the night with terrifying dreams. The ever-present face of my nightmares and terrors. "Why?" he asks, bringing me back to the present and I focus on Jake, pulling myself out of my head. He's sitting on the edge of the bed twirling a strand of my loose hair between his fingers. It makes my scalp tingle and draws my full attention to his strong form, so close to me, smelling so very good and uniquely him. "She thinks about things I don't want to think about." I sigh quietly. Sadness overcoming me with the wave of fatigue. "Like fathers who weren't around?" he seems softer, warmer. Jake always asks me things about my past, I wish he didn't but tonight it doesn't feel so bad. So scary. I want him to stay and talk to me, not go to his room with that awful "Crone". I want him here with me. "And people called Ray." I let out a long heavy breath at the mention of his name, the looming devil is still watching me inside my own head. Evading my closing doors, his lip curling back to reveal his snarl. The bile rises in my throat as the fear travels up my legs and I shiver. "Ray?" The confused husky voice distracts me. "Ray, who beats up girls and tries to molest them." I whisper, afraid of saying it out loud in case the monster hears me. Why did I start thinking of Ray? Stupid, Emma, very stupid! I don't like brandy anymore; it breaks down the walls of my carefully built black box and lets things that I locked up tight run loose. A warm touch on my arm pushes it back to the distance; it's soft and delicate and sends a soothing sensation through the fear, bringing me back to here and now. It helps Ray's face move back into the shadows, where he belongs. "Emma, why did you never tell me any of this?" Jake's voice is pained. I don't recognize his tone; concerned and breathy but I'm experiencing the tug of drunken sleep falling over me despite everything running through my head. His touch too calming, and it's making me fall into peaceful darkness. My eyes get heavier and the bed sways like a cradle, pulling me away from his voice. I can't fight it. "Don't tell Emma I told you … She will be really mad." I whisper, urging my Jake to keep our secret. Naughty teen, Emma? How did you get out? I try and haul her back down into the shadows with me as darkness overtakes us both but all too soon, I am lost.