14
“Why all the secrecy?” I ask in an attempt to interrupt the way he’s watching me. If I didn’t know better, I would think he was checking out my legs. His gaze has certainly covertly swept the length of me twice since I returned.
“His father, much like mine, owns a majority share of his business. Family money. If either of our fathers gets wind of what we’re meeting about, then they would oppose this before I can get things in place. Once I maneuver this a certain way, they will be unable to refuse.” Thankfully, he sits back, turning to stare ahead instead of at me. Finally, I’m no longer pinned down by those green eyes.
“So, you’re going behind your father’s back?” I blanche, blinking at him as though I have no real sense of this.
“For now. He would refuse even to consider it,” he shrugs, pushing at something with the toe of his boot on the door, an odd mannerism for who he is.
“Why?”
Abandoning whatever he was kicking, he moves closer to me, leaning in almost conspiratorially. “Hunter and my father have a history. They’ve let their rift cloud what’s good for business.”
“And you think a merger with someone your father hates is a good business move?” I sit back in my seat, trying to keep the distance, trying not to inhale that aftershave or unique Carrero scent now that it’s closer. He smells too nice for my liking.
“If I do this right, then yes. We stand to make a lot of money.” He shrugs and looks out his window at the passing scenery, moving away again, and I exhale.
“What exactly are you going to be merging?” I relax, glad to have my breathing space back.
“They’re primarily shipbuilders. I want to take our experience and build floating hotels and spas bearing the Carrero name. Modern liners with luxury fitness amenities onboard. Super ships.”
“Like cruise ships?”
“High-end cruise ships, only a lot bigger and more pamper based.”
“What makes you think they will be a success?” I’m intrigued by his plan.
“The Carrero name. It’s what Hunter needs for this venture to be plausible. Their reputation of late has suffered. They’ve had a few multibillion-dollar disasters. They get our reputation and our name, and we get the rights to the designs they have in progress.”
“So, this meeting is …?” I’m impressed with his idea and know only too well that the wealthy clients of Carrero would jump at a chance to stay on a floating spa. Carrero is all about luxury.
“To outline my plan, how I will maneuver my father to agree to the terms. He could dissolve the whole thing.” He looks serious, a return to boss mode.
“I see. What’s expected of me when we get there, Mr. Carrero?” It’s best to know my part and be prepared to act accordingly.
“I need you to look adoringly at me if we see any lingering photographers. There may be press hanging around. Daniel’s going through a bit of a media scandal. He was caught screwing someone of importance, and then she dumped him publicly. Then, when we’re inside, I need you to keep detailed
notes of what’s discussed so I can backtrack later.”
“Great.” I grimace, wondering what looking adoringly entails. I’m slightly nauseated at the thought.
“You’ll just have to follow my lead, Emma, and don’t get too insulted if I need to touch you.” He throws me a smile, watching for a reaction too closely. My eyes widen, and I almost gasp.
“Touch me?” I cringe at the tone of my voice betraying me. My heart rate cranks up a few notches, and my palms instantly clammy.
I never signed up for touching.
“You’re my date, remember? I may need to hold your hand, or it might look weird. When I take women out, they’re usually inclined to hang over me.” He shrugs again, those piercing eyes returning to the front of the car, giving me respite.
Of course, they do.
This makes me uptight. I want to run away.
Great, now he wants to touch me and cuddle up for the cameras; nowhere did I sign up for this in my employment contract.
“I have your permission?” He glances at me hesitantly, waiting for a response.
“Yes.” It’s my job. I’m anything but sure, but what harm could it do?
Keep reminding yourself of that, Emma. I’m sure I can tolerate hand-holding for a few minutes, even with him.
“Good.”
As the car draws up to a grand hotel, I’m not relishing what’s coming, and I’m trying not to over-analyze any of this. Before I know it, his driver is opening my door. I step out as Jake follows behind me. We immediately see the hovering photographers with long-lensed cameras hung around their necks, and their interest is piqued as Jake slides smoothly up behind me, standing up to his full height. Even without touching me, I sense him behind me. My body is suddenly on high alert at his proximity, nerves twisting my insides to mush.
“Ready?” he whispers and loops his fingers in mine as he comes around to lead me toward the doormen. I can’t concentrate on anything except the uncomfortable heat of his skin on mine and how his hand practically dwarves my own. I’ve never let anyone hold my hand, well, my mother maybe once or twice, but she doesn’t count. It’s not a welcome experience, and I have to steel myself against the urge to recoil and snap my hand away. It’s too soft, too hot, too intimate.
Suddenly there’s a small flash that startles me.
Crap.
They call out his name from right beside us, but he walks on, ignoring them, and leads me toward our destination, pulling me against the side of his body, his grip tightening, keeping me close. I keep my chin down, watching my feet, and, for the first time, I’m glad my hair is down to shield my face. We walk on, and I allow myself to be led; something disturbingly reassuring about it despite my reservations. I feel safer than I had expected with him.
The photographers are denied entry beyond the vast glass doors by tall, uniformed door attendants. Shrilly in the quiet air, a faceless voice from the paparazzi calls out, “Are you here to see Daniel Hunter, Mr. Carrero?” Another one shouts, “Are you consoling your friend over the breakup with pornstar Candy Kane?” I cringe.
Someone of importance, he said. A goddamn porn star! What the hell?
“Jake?” A male voice greets us from inside the lobby, and I’m introduced to Daniel Hunter, another billionaire playboy from a wealthy family. The two men fist bump in such a laddish way and do that whole guy arm-embrace thing where they bump shoulders in a macho manner. I watch in complete disbelief that this man is my boss, acting like a street thug, while his buddy is tugging along a leggy supermodel-looking creature.
Got over his porn star pretty quickly.
Daniel takes in my appearance rather obviously. “She’s not your usual type,” he smirks, eyes openly undressing me.
Nodding toward the disinterested bimbo, Jake laughs, “She’s yours, though.” Daniel grins. I instantly dislike him. He’s tall and well built, like Jake, but he has sandy blonde hair and dark brown eyes. He’s handsome in a classic American way, but his features make him seem shifty. Sleazy maybe.
The other girl looks bored. She stands tall in stilettos and a short playsuit. She has dark hair cascading over fake breasts while picking at her red nails as we move on, following Daniel back into the hotel.
Jake keeps hold of my hand. Casting a glance back at the lenses pointed through the glass entrance, he throws an arm around my shoulders, shielding my face from view, and I inwardly freeze. My lungs contract and refuse to function.
“Try to relax; you’re tense.” He smiles down at me, close enough that most observers would assume he kissed me lightly, and I know he’s trying to give this impression. I hold my breath, suddenly assaulted with how good he smells and good he feels so close to me. It’s unexpectedly sensual, and the intimacy sends me into all-out-panic mode.
I react without thinking, lifting a defensive hand to his chest as my heart pounds crazily, ready to push him. I’m overwhelmed and scared. I don’t like the proximity; instinct is taking over. He grasps my fingers with his free hand and holds them gently, shielding my reaction and making it look like something else entirely.
I focus on my breathing, trying to block out the creeping fear running over me.
Don’t fall apart. Hold your shit together, Emma. It’s only pretend, and he’s barely touching you.
“I have a suite.” Daniel winks at us as though implying something is going on, and I almost pass out. “I figured I would have a use for it afterward,” he says, throwing a glance toward the leggy, bored supermodel who looks as excited for that as she is about being here. I grimace and flush at his insinuation.
Jake releases me when we’re in the confines of the elevator and throws me a smile as if in praise, but I don’t respond, too busy trying to calm my pounding heart rate and trying to get my breathing to normalize.
We get to the desired floor and follow Daniel; he already has his key card in his hand.
“I took the liberty of ordering breakfast; I know you like to eat, Jakey-boy.” He grins Jake’s way and gets a smile in return.
“I’m starving, and I’m sure Emma needs to eat too.”
I nod shyly, shellshocked and quiet while recovering. I hadn’t had time to eat this morning, but I’m unsure how he could even know that.
Finally, in the hotel room, I feel stupidly disconcerted. This has knocked me for six. Jake’s hands on me have left permanent heat where he laid them, a lasting sensation as though they are still on me. I give myself an internal slap and pull myself together as best I can.
I need to stop overthinking this.
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