Chapter 28: The Dance

~From The Carrero Influence~

Jake shifted in his seat for the millionth time and tried once more to get his brain to focus on the laptop on the highly polished walnut surface.

He couldn’t keep himself on track lately.

The sound of a female clearing her throat startled him to look up, and the impatient stance of Margo waving a piece of paper with a raised eyebrow suggested she had been talking to him while he was zoned out.

“Sorry. What?” He frowned and sighed heavily, pushing himself back into his molded leather chair and rolling up his shirt sleeves in agitation.

“You need to just damn well call her.”

Margo’s stern tone did nothing to help his current mood, and he just shifted forward again to try to ignore that intent, chastising glare.

He went to his laptop, ducking his head to dodge her blue eyes and typing something aimlessly.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about. And less of the Jacob.”

He shrugged with one shoulder and pushed images of Emma from his head for the millionth time.

He wondered if maybe he should remind Margo that personal relationship aside, he was still her boss. ~Damn Emma for always being inside his head.~

“Look … you may not want to spell things out to me, but it is pretty obvious you crossed the line with her, the problem being that you then let her go, or should I say pushed her away for some stupid reason.”

Margo moved toward him and perched her tight-skirted ass on his desk the way Emma used to do anytime they had time in here.

He shook his head to dislodge it from his mind’s eye and instead went back to typing pointless words on a ruined document. “Stop that.”

Margo covered his hand with hers and stopped him from continuing.

He yanked his hands free, agitated, pushing back his chair and getting up to walk up and down the length of his windows, finding no peace in the skyline out there for once.

“Is there something I can actually help you with?” He stomped back to his seat, unsure what he was even doing, and slumped back down, creasing his shirt and not giving a damn.

Running his fingers through his cropped hair and frowning once more at the stupid document on the screen.

“I do not happen to like dealing with the Giovanni stubbornness in you, short-sighted and pig-headed to boot!” She distastefully threw the paper she had been waving around in her hand on top of his laptop keyboard.

Taking them idly, he noticed tickets stapled to the top corner with Emma’s name printed. He looked up at her quizzically with a frown.

“What are they?” He genuinely had no clue.

“Tickets to that stupid dance you wanted all the staff to attend. I suggest she gets them and decides for herself if she wants to see you.”

Margo didn’t wait for a response. She was turning on her heel and moodily trotting out on stilettos that made an echoing clip-clop at speed.

She was still pissed at him and had been since she returned and found out what he had done concerning Emma. “Margo? What the hell?” It was futile.

She was waving him away and playing deaf. She kicked his outer door shut to emphasize that she was still seriously furious with him.

He had endured weeks of her snippy attitude and stern chastising already. He had no clue why he hadn’t fired her ass for it.

Probably because deep down, he knew he deserved it. He had behaved like an asshole, and Margo was only thinking about Emma and how this must hurt her.

All he had thought about since her departure was how much this must be hurting her.

He lifted the tickets again and read over the name printed clearly in gold foiling, a thumb tracing her first name slowly as that familiar ache in his heart panged to the forefront.

Without hesitation, he hit his intercom buzzer to Margo’s desk. “Send them to her as soon as you can.”

He let it go without expecting a response, chucked them back to the outer part of his desk, and sank back, covering his face with the back of his hands and sighing.

He had no idea if she would even go to the dance, but part of him wanted it to be her choice if she did.

He wanted to see her, yet he didn’t because it would hurt either way.

The door to his office opened almost instantly, the clip-clop of heels, the swish of fabric, and a waft of Margo’s perfume.

By the time he moved his hands, she was retreating to her own part of the office, carrying the sheet of paper and still freezing him out.

He rolled his eyes and thought better of trying to chastise her about this ongoing behavior.

Margo was like a second mother to him, and his own mother would probably be acting the same way right about now.

He had better get used to her angry standoff because he knew she wouldn’t let up on him anytime soon.

Jake pulled at the collar of his tux repeatedly, trying to stop the choking sensation of wearing a bow tie, and ignored the glances his way. He had been here only minutes, and already showing up single attracted way too much attention, probably because he had never come to an event dateless.

He could feel the judgmental and surprised looks from the array of rich and minor celebrities in the ballroom less than an hour after opening, and he already hated it here. “Hola!” Leila butted into his thoughts and slid an arm through his confidently. “Looking as suave as always, my lovely.”

She grinned up at him with that cheeky youthful face he adored like a sister and just yanked at his collar once more, stifling in this crowded ballroom and hating having to dress up in this monkey suit. She pulled his hand away and started to fix his crooked bow tie for him, slapping his hand down when he tried again to get at his top button.

“You look nice. Classy dress.” His eyes swept the long black glittering ball gown with the peek of pink at the neckline while she fussed over him, typically Leila. “You brush up pretty well for a skinny tomboy.”

He was relieved to be released when she had done fluffing him over. “Shut up, loser.” Leila nipped his bicep with her overly long manicured nails, her arm slid back into place inside his, and she threw him a suddenly serious look. “I don’t think she knows that I know.”

Jake swallowed hard, an impulsive response he had no control over, frowning as the stomach-lurching sensations hit him again. This had been happening all day. “What do you expect me to say to that?”

He focused his gaze across the room, uncomfortable with this topic of conversation and already wishing he had never confided in Leila about any of this over the phone the night before. She was unpredictable sometimes, and he knew she rooted for Emma like no other.

She had been one of the worst to give him a hard time about sending her away. “I expect you to look happy, at least, Jake. You need to tell her how you feel.” Jake held his hand up and hushed her. It was all new to Leila, and nothing he had not heard before from Margo, his mother, and hell, even Daniel.

“Look. Stop. Not the time or place, Leila, so get any dumb thoughts out of your head about interfering in this.” He threw her a warning eyebrow raise and hated that her stubborn jut of the chin became more prominent. He had no energy for a Leila maneuver tonight.

“She did nothing wrong, Jake, and you need to man up and stop sulking when someone mentions her name.” Leila jutted her hip out and almost slammed her hand on it. Jake glared at her, his mood taking a nosedive, a skill Leila had had since childhood.

“Extra sharp in case your asshole best mate shows up to piss me off.” She swayed around her sparkling pink nails. “Stunning,” Jake replied flatly, dodging her pretend cat-like claw aimed at his face.

Leila was one of those annoying friends you let get away with murder because they were genuinely more family than friends. At times, though, he just wanted to strangle her. After a full day of her constant texts, questions, and lectures, tonight was one of those nights.

“I can see you watching for her, you know.” Leila cut in, looking at him smugly and lifting one eyebrow as she edged in close. Not that it made a difference, as she hadn’t bothered to lower her voice over the in-house orchestra blaring some Mozart.

“Jesus! Leila, for fuck’s sake.” He lowered his voice when he realized he had just snapped loudly, and people were looking his way. “I’m going to the bar. You can stay here and piss someone else off for a change.”

He dropped her arm from his and moved away, striding aggressively in the direction of hordes of overly dressed-up strangers to get some head space. He hated that she was right, though. He had been scanning the crowd since he got here—on edge, nervous and tense—and just watching for the one girl in the world he couldn’t mentally escape from.

He had been a fool to kiss her only days ago, to keep ending up with her no matter how hard he tried to stay away. He knew he was only torturing himself and dragging this out. The inner floor was full of people milling around in various degrees of expensive formal wear.

The music was loud and invading from the full orchestra as he pushed through people that wanted to cling to him and bask in his presence. Jake strode purposefully through a heavy crowd of glittering women in floor-length dresses, coming out into a clearing with a side step away from an overeager pair of hands and walking smack bang into the one face that made his heart stop beating.