Chapter 52

“Baby, wait until I’m back to do this?” Jake is trying to tug the case out of my hands. We’re back in the Manhattan apartment and have been overseeing the packing of some of his favorite items and our clothes to be shipped to the Hamptons for a couple of days. The journey home was sickness-free, and I’m starting to feel much better these days. I am beginning to feel great, especially now that I have the full undivided attention of my lover once more, and he’s only too willing to keep me satisfied.

“No, I told you. I’ll take Mathews if you’re so damned hell-bent on me having an escort. I’m sure he’s a major in karate, kill whatsits or some other nonsense. I know you sometimes spar with him in the gym downstairs, so he must be a deathly ninja of some kind to put up with your crazy martial art commando ways.” I huff back, trying to wrestle the handle free from his annoyingly strong grip.

“Emma, I said no!” Jake yanks the case out of my

hands, throwing it behind him on the floor. The contents splay everywhere in a crazy dramatic fashion. I square

up and glare at him angrily. So seriously not in the

mood for immature bossy dickhead Carrero right now.

“Are you telling me what to do?” I stick out my chin defiantly. My rage bubbling forth at the return of one stroppy domineering asshole I thought I stupidly missed.

Ha fucking ha.

“I am the guy you’re marrying and the father of that fucking baby. If you dare step foot in Chicago without me, I’ll seriously lose my shit.” He’s scary right now with his blazing green eyes and tense stubbly jaw. Scary in a sexy male model ‘who could possibly use his top coming off to cool him down’ sort of way.

Really, Emma, sex while you’re raging at him?

Hormones!

“I lived there my whole life, Jake. I’m sure I can handle Chicago, and stop yelling at me … I don’t particularly appreciate the swearing either.” I stomp and pull my height up to meet his, unsuccessfully, seeing as he’s six feet two, and I’m barely scraping five-foot-four. He’s glaring down at me, anger emanating from every pore. His aggressive psycho mode that does absolutely nothing to me.

“Last time you went alone, some guy hurt you in the fucking stairwell. You’re never going there alone again, and your mother … Don’t even get me started on her because last time she fucking crushed you.” He is radiating pure aggressive dominance, an alpha male asshole, but I am not backing down on this.

“I’m not the same anymore, Jake. I’m stronger, and stop it.” I slap him in the abdomen churlishly. “Stop talking down to me like I’m your PA.” He doesn’t even flinch when my palm connects with his hard six-pack.

Or is it eight? Hard to count as when I’m usually on that body, I’m preoccupied.

“Emma!” He has his gritted teeth voice on and the bunching muscles of a severely pissed-off Carrero. “I have to go for two days, that’s all, two fucking days to oversee this crap, and then I’ll take you myself. I’ll drive there and back. Until then, I’ll lock you in this apartment and tell Mathews I’ll fucking fire him if you step one foot in his car.” He seethes at me; pretty sure breathing fire would be one of his things if it were physically possible.

I step back at the wave of his rage and lift my chin slightly higher, inner Emma refusing to be railroaded by this cocky, arrogant ass.

“Jake, if you dare try to intimidate me right now, I’ll not only get a fucking train to Chicago, carrying my case by myself, but I’ll go as soon as it’s dark and you’re gone and not even take a goddamn phone, so you can’t track my cell or call me.” I threaten smugly. Not phased one bit by his show of scare.

There’s nothing Jake would hate more than that! He’d go into worried protective overload and maybe blow a brain cell … or three thousand.

We have a monumental angry stare-off, rage bubbling between us, but I don’t care. I’m not scared of Jake’s little moods anymore or him storming off with hurt feelings, and I’m sure as hell not frightened of any little consequences. Somewhere along the way, I’ve realized that I have nothing to worry about when it comes to Jake, and if anyone is going to be leaving anyone, it will be me. This right here is not the behavior I am about to put up with for the rest of my married life, and he should learn that fast!

“You wouldn’t dare, Emma.” That nasty growl does nothing for me. If anything, it makes me want to unbutton his pants, but we’re so not doing sex right now.

Maybe later!

“Try me.” I bite back, my defiant, hormonal mood in full swing, and he straightens up, that tiny smirk twitching to his mouth breaking his scowling intimidation in a second. He rubs a hand across his face and scrubs it for a second. I guess all his posturing is just a very convincing act if he’s so quick to chuck it aside.

Hmmmmm.

“You, woman, are going to be the absolute death of me.” He sighs heavily and reaches out, tugging me toward him, planting a kiss on my mouth, cupping my jaw with both hands, and burying his fingers in my hair. Sighing in defeat because he knows there is not a thing he can possibly do to me.

You’re so whipped, Jake.

“I don’t want you to go.” His tone is softer and gentler, and he’s obviously changing tactics, but my mind’s made up. I know all his devious little manipulations, he’s going in for soft and tender, but if that fails, he’ll pull out the sex strategy.

And, well, sex I can never resist, especially his kind, so I better get this stopped now since my head has been heading that way for the last twenty minutes.

“Jake, please don’t make me beg you to do this. Let me do what I need to do to move on in life.” I flutter my lashes at him and give him my sincerest wide-eyed look of adoration.

There’s a flicker of doubt in his eye, and I know I have him over a barrel. Two can play that emotional card, Jake.

“Arghhhh.” He raises his palms in agitation and paces away from me and back again.

“I’ll fucking beg. Do you want me on my knees right now?” He pleads in an annoyed tone. Maybe not ready to let this go just yet.

Depends on what you’re planning on doing down there.

“Stop being so melodramatic.” I sigh and turn away, leaning down to pick up my case, but Jake grabs my wrist to stop me from bending. He scoops instead, throwing everything on the bed, and I can’t help but smile. I stand watching him with folded arms. He’s a stroppy ass, but even in a mood, he’s still taking care of his pregnant woman.

“I’m not happy about this at all.” He’s back to brimming with sourness, but I pinch his butt as I walk past him to the bed and smile. He throws me a look of indulgence, and I sigh.

“So, I see.” I flip the case over and start folding my clothes again, sliding things in neatly and slowly, bringing some order back to the mess he made. Un-phased by the amount of death-ray looks aimed my way as he watches me painfully.

“Fuck’s sake!” Jake snaps, and my case is yanked off the bed and thrown behind him again, like a child having a meltdown. It will be a very long night if things carry on at this rate. I should check his birth certificate sometime and ensure he is not actually a five-year-old in a man’s body.

“Are you really going to keep doing that?” I’m not angry anymore, just amused by the temper and childishness

of my husband-to-be. The massive man-child I used to love working for has returned in full fury. If it weren’t frustrating to keep refolding the same clothes, I would be laughing

at him right now.

“Yes.” He sulks and glares at me, knowing he’s not winning this argument one iota, so he’s stropping about instead.

Sulky Jake—Oh lord.

I walk up to him, slide my hand into his back pocket, pull out his wallet effortlessly, and flip it open. He narrows his eyes, watching as I slide out his sexy black credit card without attempting to stop me and wave it in front of him.

“If I’m not allowed to pack or take anything to wear, I’ll buy what I need, and that’ll resolve that little issue.” I tease with a naughty smug smile. Jake takes hold of my wrist with one hand and yanks the card out of my hand with the other, throwing that behind him on top of the scattered case too. His expression completely serious, and I can’t help but burst into giggles. He still has my wrist in his hand, and it’s obvious he’s not about to let go.

“You’re impossible.” I poke him in the chest accusingly but can’t stop the giggling.

“That’s why you love me, and that’s why I’ll cancel my fucking trip and stay right here if you keep this up.” He moves toward me menacingly, and I spring back, yanking my hand free and waving my hips at him playfully, goading him childishly. His mood is simmering, but that twinkle in his eye hints at a desire to stop arguing and do something far more fun; that never-ending heat between us is never far away nowadays.

There’s a small knock on the open bedroom door, and Mathews appears, graciously clearing his throat to alert us of his presence.

“Mr. Carrero, Mr. Hunter is here to see you.” He nods and then waits for Jake’s response. Jake looks immediately irritated and sighs, resigning himself to the fact that this is going nowhere.

“Show him to the lounge. I’ll be there in a minute.” Jake smiles, and Mathews turns and leaves us to it. Jake goes to walk forward, then stops and glances over his shoulder at the case on the floor. His eyes narrow suspiciously as he knows I’ll pick it up and keep packing as soon as he leaves.

He stalks toward me in two easy strides and, without warning, bends down to flip me over his shoulder with a sharp smack to my ass, making me squeal as he marches us through to the next room with determination. He thinks that if I’m with him, then I can’t disobey him.

Asshole.

“Jake put me down.” I protest, helplessly squirming on his wide shoulders in his vice-like grip, and he only sets me on my feet when we’re beside the long, low white leather couch. Daniel is sitting far too rigidly on the far end, not even looking our way but studying his own hands. Jake catches my wrists and pulls me onto his lap as he sits down, catching me, so I don’t fall, nestling me into his embrace. It seems I’m to be his prisoner in case I defy him and pack my case.

What am I going to do with him?

Seriously!