The Carrero Effect (Carrero series book 1)

e the appeal. He seems to have the body of someone who is graced with a good strong, tall physique, and he takes care of it. There are enough topless shots of him in the med

l; too good-looking to be a nice guy a

, and this is the root of my nausea. He’s someone who charms and strings along wom

ne with the capabilities Jacob Carrero seems famed for. The effortless ability to make women swoon at his feet and follow him around doe

the right people downstairs to even get here at such an early age, but I feel sick and scared fo

know if I’ve overstepped my worth. I don’t know if I’m capable of the task ahead of me. Capable of working with someo

small, modern and sleek, if a little clinical, and seems to only be used to supply tea and coffee despite the huge refrigerators. I wipe down the surfaces of the machine and surrounding worktops, removing

checking the room to make sure everything is in its place. I like neatness, it makes me calm

ay fabric and return with the pile of mail and messages I took for him yesterday. They’re only the ones th

elp but let my eyes skim over the silver framed pictures to the left corner of the wooden desk, with various people in black and white stills. Beautiful women, celebrities, and one of his father, Mr. Carrero Sr. Someone I’ve

She’s very beautiful, and the resemblance is striking. Same dark hair, gorgeou

her beaten. In the picture of father and son, there’s a coldness between them, despite the fact they’re standing close, holding a champag

e that requires my obsessive attention to detail and

ortly, and my nerves are so taut I may actual

and laying it down with a smack and scowling at it as though it’s the cause. Another habit from childhood that I’m permanently trying to ov

idg

far I’ve come from my childhood in Chicago, and a habit that annoys me on a serious level. Not only because it betrays the confidence I seem to emit, but al

me to adjust, reminding myself to take steadying breaths as I do so

ear the entrance to our offices, indicating his arrival. My heart stops. She smiles my way fondly

be

llow. Deep b

been emailing him back and forth, but this verbal being brought up to speed is something she

es on my keyboard, willing m

ishness to it that I never noticed in his interviews. The kind of voice you would recognize anywhere, even across a crowded room, and it draws you in. So

she says. It’s unexpected and I flinch, shoc

act like t

tray me, and I’m glad no on

old of myself.

my screen and I quickly hit the back button to remove it, hiding the evidence of my stumble. Cursing the inability

t stop. You are mor

fice toward Margo’s desk, which is behind me in a separate room. Mar

lack, suited and looking serious—he has some sort of wire in his ear, indicating he’s most likely securi

rather publicity-shy, although he is only late teens. I note that he’s also only about five-foot nine, yet still muscular and has tawny hair much like his father’s. That same weird nose profile too that