Chapter 14

Great job!

“So, here, I need these copied, emailed, filed. I’m sure you know the drill.” He glances up and away again as though he isn’t comfortable making eye contact right now.

I do, yes. I do, of course I do. I don’t need direction. I need a focus.

I reach out and take them from him in haste, stopping myself from grabbing like a mad woman.

“Yes, sir.”

“Emma, you look nice,” he interjects softly, glancing at me only to make the remark and then back at his cell in his hand. I ignore the strange look of apprehension on his face and the tingles inside me igniting with ferocity. Shifting nervously, I try to steady my hands on the folder. This escalated quickly, and I’m so angry with myself. I’ve literally just lost my cool and capable persona in milliseconds, all because of my stupid hair. I plaster on my cool expression and smile tightly to reel it all under wraps.

“Thank you, Mr. Carrero.” It’s out of my mouth before I realize I didn’t call him Jake, and it’s yet another reason to silently groan.

Try and regain composure. Years of control, Emma, and you go to mush in seconds.

I’m beyond livid with myself.

Margo appears a moment later carrying a briefcase and a jacket. I’m grateful for her sudden appearance and instant calming abilities. I glance at the wall clock noting it’s not even 2.00 p.m. and click on why they are going out. I had forgotten they have a meeting across town at the other Carrero building, Carrero Tower HQ with Senior, something to do with quarterly finances, and are leaving me to man the office.

King Carrero in his ivory tower.

He prefers to lord over his empire in a separate building from Jake several blocks away. I wonder if the coolness between them is why.

“Emma, divert any important calls, and message me if you need anything,” Margo instructs, “I’ve left you a pile of folders here.” She taps the small mountain she has placed on the desk, oblivious to my making a complete fool of myself. “Work through and leave by four thirty.” She smiles, her hand hooking a stray tendril of my hair behind my ear, catching me by surprise. “I like this; it’s softer. You look so much prettier, more carefree and younger.” She smiles again, eyes alive with genuine affection.

I try to smile and force back the grimace that arises within, uncomfortable with the attention this slight change is getting me and fully aware it will never happen again. Nor am I entirely comfortable with the way Jake is still looking at me as she fiddles with my hair; I smooth it out of her grasp gently, nodding with a vague expression to avoid comment.

I sigh with relief when they utter goodbyes, turn, and leave. Thank God, it’s over.

For God’s sake.

I haul over the folders to the front of my desk and throw my hair back over my shoulder angrily.

I’m angry at myself. I’m angry that Jake made me lose my cool without even meaning to. I’m angry that for a split-second old Emma resurfaced, teenage Emma. Stupid, idiotic, nervous, fidgeting Emma raised her dumb head. I just made a complete idiot of myself.

I’ve spent years pushing her into the background and trying to replace her with the more capable and confident me. I don’t need her presence or her anxiety and insecurities near me. She’s a broken little girl who’s held me back, and the last thing I need is to see her again.