Chapter 17

Taking my hair down is like undressing me.

“Yeah, just don’t do the hair twirling and lip pouting,” Donna agrees, nodding and studying me with a finger on her chin. “You’re a woman-child; it’s surprising.” She laughs genuinely, but it only chafes at my already frayed temper.

I don’t need the hair twirling pointed out, thanks very much. I know how bloody stupid it is!

Inside the depths of my head, teen Emma scurries to hide from my glaring wrath.

“Oh, to be that young and beautiful again!” Donna sighs, but Margo throws her a shocked look exclaiming that she’s gorgeous, and they go off on a tangent about how fabulous each other is. I find it tiresome. It’s like I’m in The Twilight Zone.

“Okay, I’ll start on your wardrobe, darling. Margo has given me a list of the events you need to attend, and some work basics. I’ll be back by the end of the day.” She waves her hands in excitement.

“We shall trust your judgment, Donna,” Margo gushes, and we watch as she sweeps out in a flurry of red chiffon and a clip clop of heels, the cyclone that is Donna Moore. The energy in the room calms and I almost sag with relief.

“Is this necessary?” I get off the stool, relieved at being released after feeling like a full-size Barbie doll.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. Jake’s image is important; the Carrero name evokes luxury and wealth. If you attend events with him you need to represent the same image, my dear.” She smiles at me with a note of sympathy. “Jake knows asking his staff to spend thousands of their hard-earned pay on an image is ridiculous, so just enjoy the perk.” She tries to appease my doubts as I try to calm my internal bristle and the urge to refuse.

“I don’t like other people choosing what I wear.” I like to be in control of every detail of my life. It’s how I function, how I keep calm.

“Hush now. Donna is the one who helped me discover my inner goddess and made me look like this.” Margo twirls like a teenage girl. She’s wearing a fitted black suit today with a molded, knee-length skirt, a low-buttoned jacket over a silky, silver camisole top, and high black stilettos. Her blonde hair is in a flawless French twist. She looks amazing.

“Really?” I am slightly appeased. She’s the picture of sophistication and control that I aspire to achieve; maybe Donna won’t be so bad after all.

“Oh yes. I was hopeless with my style when I started here. Fifteen years on and here I am.” She beams at me.

“Fifteen years?” The shock is obvious in my tone. That would mean she worked here before Jake was even old enough to help run the empire. He would have been thirteen!

“Yes, I used to be Carrero Senior’s assistant.” She’s now straightening up the papers on my desk left askew by Donna.

“What’s he like?” I’ve always been intrigued by the older man and meeting him last year quelled none of the interest. He seemed to be a force to be reckoned with, terrifying and cold.

“Like someone you never want to willingly meet,” says a deep, familiar, smooth voice, so unexpected and close. I jump and spin around to see Jake casually striding in the door. The flutters in my stomach come back in full force, reminding me I’m still standing in the middle of the room. I move to my desk and sit down, nerves instantly returning.

He’s wearing designer jeans in a soft, washed-out gray, a white T-shirt with a graffiti print that is slightly too neat on that body, a modern leather jacket, and his trademark shades. He doesn’t look like a guy who’s coming to the office for the day. I’m not sure I’m impressed despite how much it suits him, this bad boy biker style. It’s not exactly professional.

“Mr. Carrero … I mean Jake. Good morning.” Controlled Emma is back in play, despite the hair tickling my face and the breathlessness at his appearance and attire.

“You look really nice today, Emma.” He smiles, his gaze travelling over me from head to foot with a look of appreciation, obvious even behind shades. It makes me uncomfortable, and my face flushes with telltale heat.