The Carrero Solution (Carrero Book 3)

“Home sweet home.” Jake walks past me through the open doorway, carrying the cases into our new multi-bedroom two-story Hamptons mansion, excitement bubbling over me.

There are sheets and tools everywhere. Amid the chaos and noise of power tools, sawing, and banging, workmen wander around doing seemingly important jobs.

“I thought they were decorating? Sounds like construction.” I point out, with a raised eyebrow, looking at Jake suspiciously.

“I kinda okayed some minor changes in various places,” Jake smirks at me, and my eyebrow raises higher. He doesn’t even try to fake guilt over his admission.

“What happened to the agreement that I would choose the décor? And oversee any refurb!” I narrow my eyes as he ducks under a low-hanging cable to avoid my scrutiny, and I catch a tell-tale mischievous grin pasted on his face. He is shameless.

“Baby … Bambina, I was never going to be easy to live with. I don’t get why you’re so surprised.” He walks off fast with a backward wink, and I shake my head after him, a little exasperated.

No, I wouldn’t expect anything else. This is who he is, and for the most part, I like this side of my Cocky Carrero.

Two workmen wander past, and I catch them looking me over, eyes skimming my legs as they carry a large sheet of wood, leering at me and passing smirks to one another in quiet agreement. I lift my chin defiantly and glare right back.

“I suggest you keep your eyes on your work, or you’ll be finding them scanning the classifieds for another job,” I snap, and both men immediately look away, moving off quickly, acting sheepish. There is no way I am putting up with wandering, sleazy eyes in my own goddamn home. I have realized, through Jake, that men do not have the right to objectify me anymore.

“Saved me the job of doing that.” I’m hit with Jake’s low growl and realize he’s leaning in the doorway watching me. His hand sexily on the jam above his head, stretching out his sculpted torso, a hint of skin peeking from under his lifted shirt, and smirking at me with those sexy devouring eyes.

“Maybe it’s about time I started doing it for myself.” I point out and smile as I slowly cross the marble hall and slide into his waiting arms, nuzzling my face into a chest that screams of home.

“I might allow that occasionally, not every time, though. I get a kick out of growling for a fight and claiming what’s mine.” He buries his face in my neck and kisses it slowly, teasing me into submission. The noise all around us completely kills the mood.

“Maybe we should take a tour and see what has been done.” I look to the ceiling as he slides me loose, taking my hand and leading the way across to the marble stairs, equally curious to get an eyeful of our new home.

“Our bedroom should be done, and our en suite … Lounge and kitchen were on the list of completed rooms too, so all of this is everything else. I’ve been told they’ll only be here 9-5 until it’s done, not on weekends.” He points out, and I’m glad to know this invasion of sweaty men and decorators will be gone soon. I don’t relish being stuck here with a bunch of men I neither know nor trust.

“What are you having redone that needs all these carpenters and … Is that a crowbar?” I ask, shocked to see the large metal pole lying dangerously mid-way up the stairs. Jake scoops down and picks it up with an angry frown on his handsome face, hanging it on the banister to the side.

“Those idiots need to be more damned careful; you could have fallen over that! … I’m having a couple of the extra rooms switched from bedrooms to something we’ll have more use for, and the library and office knocked out into one space for us to have a place to work together.” He’s still glaring at the metal bar hanging between the rails as he guides me past a pile of sawdust on the next step. The workmen are carelessly untidy, something that bothers me. If they’re going to be here from 9-5 for five days of the week, in my home, they could have the decency to sweep up now and again. Or at least move a goddamn crowbar so I don’t fall over it!

“So … Exactly how long do we have to endure all this mess and noise for?” I squint at the men below, walking around carrying what looks like a granite worktop into a small side room.

Tell me again, why we moved in so quickly?

“It looks worse than it is. The house mostly needs paint and paper and our choice of a shit load of furniture. This crew should be done by Friday, neonata. These are all temporary contractors.” Jake waves a hand across the milling workers and continues leading me slowly and carefully up the minefield of the stairs. One hand on my back and the other holding my hand in front of me as though I’m elderly and fragile. He sometimes makes me feel like both when he’s in protector mode.

“Mr. Carrero, Miss. Anderson!” The gushing friendly voice of Monica Briggs, the interior designer, comes at us from the top of the stairs, and she starts floating toward us in a puff of Chanel number five and a red shift dress. I choke as she gets close, trying to ignore the cheek kissing thing she does to Jake, leaving nasty rouge lip tar across his chiseled cheek bone, whorishly marking my man yet air kissing me from a distance.

Hmmmmm.

I reach up and immediately start wiping her mark off his face with my thumb and throw a rather snippy glare in her direction.

The only bitch marking him will be me!

She seems un-phased by it, and I resist the urge to elbow Jake when I catch that half smirk on the corner of his mouth as he watches me having a little green-eyed moment, amused by my possessiveness over him.

Yeah, Mr. Carrero, you think that’s funny? I know you wouldn’t like it if some guy was giving me marks all over my face!

“Miss. Briggs, we’re finally home and eager to see what’s been done.” Jake’s in charming mode, all Carrero suave, and sultry-voiced, with his smile reserved for clients and shoulder-rubbing rich folks.

“You must let me show you then.” She gushes, leaning down to slide her arm through his, but I step up beside him quickly so she’s met with my rather close cleavage; at least she has the decorum to look mildly uncomfortable. She smiles tightly and moves back awkwardly, a small rise of red creeping up her neck.

Yeah, I’m the woman of this house … Back off.

Jake slides an arm around my shoulder, swooping in to kiss my temple in a show of adoration. His way of telling her to move away so fluently that she probably doesn’t realize it. He’s doing what needs to be done to get her to understand he’s not interested. It must work as she seems to have remembered her place and smiles, stepping back further to let us continue, gesturing up the stairs towards a lot more noise, raising an eyebrow at Jake. I let him lead the way, pulling me along at a casual pace.

Upstairs, the sound is far worse than the mess, and I can see that a lot has been done despite the tools and sheets all over. The long, wide hall has plastic covering the thick carpet, and an array of glossy white doors stand open to let light fill the area from each room. It’s like a corridor of doors.

She leads us across the walkway, dodging plugs and wires, to our master bedroom, which is close to the start of the main landing, and I’m met with the vision we created on design boards and high-tech computer software. My breath catching, dreamily, at the image of perfection before us. The reality is much more breath-taking than the view from a computer screen.

Neutrals, softness, and a cozy large leather bed with a million cushions artfully placed in the center of a huge suede-covered wall. Plush carpeting in a soft mink, fur rugs, and a chaise longue at the bed with a lot of beautiful furniture and seating dotted around. It’s a complete haven, a room fit for reading in, lying around, and relaxing in, or long romantic nights of passion by candlelight. I can already envision lazy Sunday mornings with Jake in this room, wandering around half dressed or just nakedly christening every surface I can see.

The view of the sea, beyond the large wide windows facing us, is perfection.

“It’s gorgeous.” I breathe, letting go of his hand to walk forward and trail my fingers over a furry throw on the back of a beautiful armchair in the softest camel-colored fabric. Immersing myself in the peaceful serenity of this room and catch my breath as I spot a large, traditional, dark wood crib nestled in a nook by the en suite door near the bed. Jake has obviously chosen this. It looks like it belongs there, perfectly suited to the old meets new style and cozy features of the room; the wood matches our bedframe. I turn and smile at him with watery eyes and a lump in my heart. His returning smile tells me he knows what I’ve spotted; a special moment passing between us that Miss. Briggs. is completely oblivious to.

“What do you think, Mr. Carrero?” Monica is almost kissing him with her pouty voice, but I’m too absorbed in the vision around us and the emotion of that little addition.

“If Emma loves it, then that’s all that matters. I love anything she’s picked out.” I smile without looking around, knowing he’s trying to shut down Miss. Briggs, in all her flirting fury. He’s equally irritated by her amorous attention. A while ago, he admitted to me that the female adoration he receives is tiresome and annoying, even more so since meeting me.

“Oh … you have no opinion?” She sounds disappointed at his lack of interest in her pet project. She probably thought that her work would somehow mean more to him, with this being his room. She’s obviously forgotten that, as a man, Jake has an extreme lack of interest in soft furnishings, especially when there is an equal lack of high-tech gadgetry in the room. She seems to be blanking my existence.

Stupid hoe.

“Well … Honestly? There’s a bed and many places to prop up my sexy as sin fiancée, so yeah, I love it.” I snicker at the smirk in his voice from behind me and can visualize the one-shoulder shrug he’s probably giving her.

I snort and cover my mouth to hold back the giggle trying to escape, warmed by his hand running up my back softly as he comes to me, brushing around the back of my neck lightly and kissing the back of my head.

Monica seems to be at a loss for words, and I can’t help but side-eye him with an indulgent grin, complete adoration, and tingles for my ‘reason to live’ standing beside me, but I shake my head at him, sighing.

Mr. Carrero, when will you ever behave? But I love you for it.

“If you’d like to see the alterations to the games room and the home cinema you asked for?” She cuts in a tad frosty. I roll my eyes. Some things will never change with Jake, including his love of all things manly and his Xbox room for when Daniel comes to play.

Do men ever really grow up?

“We can look around later when you all leave for the day. We’re going to unpack and get acquainted with this room first.” Jake turns and throws her his best panty-dropping heartthrob smile. I know without looking, she’s probably swooning and close to fanning herself. I jump when he grabs my ass, possessively and dramatically, in full view of her line of vision. “Need to christen the bed after all.” He adds cheekily with a wink. I guarantee her face has turned fuchsia.

I sigh and continue staring out the window, knowing full well he’s having more fun shocking the poor woman than is necessary, purely making a point at her expense. When she retreats amid a fumbling flurry of words and shuts the door quickly, he turns back to me to catch my impatiently arched brow.

“Remind me again why we hired her?” I stare at him pointedly. I am sure there are probably a million other men who could’ve easily done the job with less of the eye raping of my fiancée.

“Because she was available for an immediate start, and she has a great reputation.” He slides his arms around my shoulders and props his chin on my head, joining me in looking out the window.

“So, Friday, you say?” I sigh, the noise of loud hammering and screeching cutting through the room’s tranquility, irritating me immensely. This is hardly the homecoming to a new life I’d imagined when driving here.

“Well … she promised on the phone. No more construction after Friday, just a lot of decorating and moving men to deal with instead.” He kisses me on the nape of my neck and runs his fingertips across my collarbone, sending tingles in every direction.

“Great, just what we need.” I sigh heavily, pushing out the overwhelming urge to turn and molest him, which is currently running through my bones.

“The old PA Emma will love bossing around all those sweaty men, and Miss. Briggs. and you know it. You were always an intimidating force in full PA mode.” His mouth has decided to linger on my throat, and the warm waves of longing are becoming distracting.

I suppose I can’t argue with that. Overseeing, organizing, and making things perfect is what I excelled at when working at Carrero Corp. I’m sure this will be far more enjoyable than anything I managed when I worked there.

“I suppose. We could always stay next door if I can’t stand it.” I beam at him when I say it; having the Carrero home less than 200 meters away makes me stupidly happy and the only thing taking over my rising hormone levels.

“We could, Bambina.” He smiles as he lets me go and wanders toward the room’s inner door, near where we’re standing, and opens it. He reaches inside and flicks on a bright light in the en suite. His eyes scanning the inner room with a look of delight.

“Oooh,” I say loudly when I spot the sparkling coffee-colored floor from the doorway and venture closer. The bathroom is in matching neutrals with the biggest jacuzzi I have ever seen and so many shiny chrome taps and knobs that I am completely clueless about what they are for.

“I know what we’re doing for the next hour.” Jake winks and yanks me into the bathroom with him, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, finding no protests from me.