#Chapter95
/"Emma? Mr. Carrero wants to see you./" A small childish voice comes up behind me, causing me to flinch and drop my duster. My heart hits a sudden stop as I inhale heavily pushing back my hair which is stuck to my face from the exertion of my enthusiastic cleaning, my eyes widening in disbelief.
What? Jake? He’s here?
My brain reels a moment with a lurch of possibility before sense smacks me in the chest sharply, kickstarting rapid heartbeats.
No. Giovanni! Of course!
I feel like an idiot. I throw a tight smile her way before turning smoothly to acknowledge the girl, pushing down signs of my overreaction and trying to calm my crazy thudding pulse rate. It’s one of the small receptionists, all blonde hair, and big boobs—like most of Senior’s staff. He’s sickeningly singular about the women in his employ, finding those whose looks are less like the woman he’s married to and more like the /"bunnies/" of the Hugh Heffner world.
