More money than she could have imagined, in exchange for his retaining a chunk of ownership of the app, and a position as creative advisor.
It wasn’t the contracts that were making her fingers shake, though. It was the note that had been included. He’d written on the same letterhead as he’d included in the limousine in Spain.
I have waited and I have wanted. I am more yours than ever I was.
Have dinner with me tonight, and decide if you want to spend the rest of your life with me, or never see me again. I will respect your decision.
Never doubt that I love you, Carrie.
She ran her finger over the darkly pressed script, then flicked it over. He’d included the name of a restaurant on the back, and the appointed time.
That was it.
So what did Carrie want?
She knew the answer to that. She wanted Gael.
In the two weeks since leaving Forest View, and the messed up situation with Gael and her mother, she’d thought of him obsessively. His words played over and over in her head. Some days she believed them, other days she didn’t.
The very idea of Gael falling in love with her was incredible. Literally, impossible to credit. She couldn’t believe it. Men like Gael didn’t love women like Carrie – not as she’d been at seventeen. But men like Gael didn’t lie, either.
It was beneath him. So what did that mean? Was he telling the truth?
But why had he left her for so long?
Why hadn’t he recognised her at the party, when first they’d reconnected? If she hadn’t seen him that night, would he have ever contacted her?
And none of this made up for the way he’d treated her on the island. Throwing her in the pool to make a point about vanity had been cruel and unkind. He’d ripped away all of her protective outer layer in a manner that was intentionally callous. She couldn’t forgive him for that. At least, she didn’t think she could.
She’d need to see him again to know for certain.
She spent the day dithering back and forth on the matter, until finally, she accepted that she’d regret it for the rest of her life if she didn’t at least turn up. But indecision had made her tardy. By the time she’d gone home and changed into a pair of black jeans and a beautiful silk Karen Millen top, she was late. She still paused to freshen up her make up and hair, and to slip on a pair of sky high heels.
Finally, almost an hour after she was meant to meet him, Carrie was ready. She grabbed her handbag and walked out of her front door, striding to the end of the street to flag down a taxi.
One pulled up almost instantly; it had just let a fare out a little way down, so no doubt the driver thought the timing excellent. She gave him the address and settled back into the seat.
Nerves were causing her stomach to clench.
The restaurant was only a short drive away. Carrie paid the driver and walked with a confidence she was far from feeling up the steps.
“I’m meeting Gael Vivas,” she said to the suited man on the front. Her eyes scanned the restaurant, searching for his head. His face. His eyes. Nerves were eating through her now.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. Mr Vivas waited almost an hour before leaving.”
Shit, she swore under her breath, scanning the restaurant in the hopes that he’d got it wrong.
But there was no Gael.
Carrie ran back down the stairs and flagged a cab. For the second time that night, she got lucky; a taxi stopped almost instantly.
“Where to, love?”
That was a good question. Where was he staying? Would he be back at the Pyrmont? Or somewhere else?
She reached into her bag to call him, to explain, but in her haste to get ready, she’d left her phone on her bathroom counter. She’d go home and get it. That was all there was to it.
She gave the cabbie her address and tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for it to retrace the drive she’d just made.
When it came to a stop outside her home, and she saw Gael’s car, a feeling of intense euphoria came over her. She pressed some money forward and stepped out, her eyes scanning the footpath.
And there he was. Sitting on the front steps of her home, his head bent forward.
“Gael,” she said as she approached, a curious expression on her face.
He lifted his head so fast he might very well have picked up a case of whiplash. “Dios Mio,” he exclaimed, standing and wrapping his hands around her waist. He lifted her to him and kissed her, not caring that she hadn’t decided what she wanted. Carrie kissed him back, her fingers pulling through his hair.
“I was late,” she said against his mouth.
“I know.”
“You came here anyway?”
“I brought dinner,” he responded with a smile.
Carrie’s laugh was tremulous. “That feels familiar.”
“We don’t seem to do restaurants very well,” he confided with mock seriousness.
“No,” she agreed. She lifted her finger to his cheek and touched it, as if to ascertain that he was real.
“May I come in?”
It was a loaded question; he was asking more of her than she knew how to give. She bit down on her lip, then eyed the brown paper bag. “For dinner,” she agreed finally, her voice clearly expressing her wariness.
Gael wasn’t going to argue. Any inroad was better than nothing. He followed her up the stairs, and into the lounge. “Burger okay?”
There was a silent challenge in his question.
And Carrie understood why. She sighed, but nodded. “A burger will be fine.”
Saying it hurt. She took it from him suspiciously, trying to remember when the last time was she’d eaten something like this.
She unwrapped it and spread the paper on her lap then bit into it tentatively. Gael was watching intently, his dark eyes scanning her face. He sat opposite her, but didn’t make an attempt to open his own food. Carrie took another bite, and swallowed.
Having lived on light and lean food for as long as she could remember, the burger felt greasy and unpleasantly substantial in her mouth. She swallowed, but she was forced to admit it was harder than she’d anticipated. She put it down on the paper and reached for her bottled water.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked finally, her tone defensive.
Gael leaned towards her so that he could move her burger onto the table. “I worry about you.”
Carrie nodded. She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I don’t have an eating disorder, Gael. I just don’t like food like this.”
“And wine?”
She tipped her head forward in silent acknowledgement. “So I count calories. Maybe a little obsessively.”
He pressed a kiss against her forehead. “I want you to not,” he murmured. “Eventually.”
Her eyes widened. “You can’t…” She stood in frustration and paced away from him. “It’s really nice of you to say that, but you forget what I used to be like.”
“Believe me, I don’t,” he said under his breath. “Memories of that night have tormented me for years. I felt like a lecherous bastard.”
“I was fat and squishy.”
“You were beautiful and curved, and your mother made you feel like a greedy pig because she could see exactly what everyone else could; that you are far more beautiful and sweet-natured than she could ever hope to be.”
Carrie made a sound of annoyance. “Don’t lie to me! I see her, and I see myself.”
“You’re not competing with your mother. She competes with you; you don’t need to buy into that.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed. “But Carrie, I love you. The light I see in your eyes when you’re passionate about something; the way you laugh and smile, and the way you care about people with true goodness. I love you. Soft and squishy or slim like this, I just want you.”
She closed her eyes, and slowly moved back to sit beside him. “I hated what I was like.”
“Your mother still mak
es you feel like that, and now you look like you could model in a fashion magazine. Your mother bullies you, Carrie, and it has nothing to do with your looks. She’s jealous of you.”
Carrie nodded bleakly. “But all this time, I thought that you felt the same way.”
Gael put an arm around her shoulder and held her tight. “I know. I reacted so badly to that kiss. I was furious with myself. Do you know how close I came to sleeping with you? To lifting you in my arms and lying you on the ground, so that I could enjoy you fully? At seventeen, you deserved better than what I could give you.”
Her heart turned over, as years of pain began to soften at the edges. “I really thought I got it wrong. That you didn’t want me.”
“Oh, I wanted you.” He shook his head. “The sound of your voice, as it reached me across the lawns, made something inside of me switch on. I have heard you singing in my dreams.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “Do you understand now, mi pequeno amor, that I love you with all my heart?”
She tried to remember the concerns she’d had earlier, but they were becoming less and less relevant. “But you…” she closed her eyes, forcing her brain to focus. “You didn’t remember me. That night.”
“Oh, I did. I knew you were familiar. On some level, I knew who you were. At the time, I thought that sense of familiarity came down to your beauty. I presumed you were a television or movie star; a model, perhaps a singer.” He ran his fingers down her hair. “I spent six years trying to ignore how I felt about you. Whenever I spoke to my father, he would tell me about you. He was so proud, Carrie. He thought you were the most amazing young woman. And he was right.”
Unexpected tears starred in her eyes. “I’m sorry I got to see that side of him when you didn’t.”
“I’m glad he showed his kindness to someone in the end.”
Carrie swallowed. Still, her doubts clogged her brain. “I will never forget the island.” She shook her head. “I know you think I’ve got some hang ups about my looks. You’re right, to some extent. But you made me feel … so ...” She didn’t know how to finish the thought. She shrugged wordlessly.
He groaned. “I know. I knew as I did it that it was wrong, but I was so angry with you! I hated the way you felt about yourself. I still do, Carrie.”
She was very quiet. It was her decision, and she had to make it privately. Could she accept everything he said and move forward? What did she want?
“May I show you something?”
Her heart turned over. Something that would help her understand what she wanted? “Yes.” She put her hand in his, and he pulled her from the sofa.
He led her gently up the stairs, into her en suite. The lights were very bright – optimal for putting make up on. She winced a little as they flared to life. Diego looked around until he found a face washer. He doused it in warm water, squeezing it through his hands to remove the excess.
He stood before her, his dark eyes fusing with hers. “I love you.” He lifted the washer and gently passed it over her face, wiping away the make up she wore with true pleasure. He’d longed to do it all along, and the satisfaction in removing the physical barrier was immense. Carrie was obviously not enjoying it, but to her credit, she stood very still, her eyes clinging to his.
When her face was exposed, he came to stand behind her, so that she could see their reflections in the mirror. “Look at yourself,” he chided gently.
She shook her head, her eyes still hanging on his.
“Look and see what I see. These eyes that sparkle with the power of the moon. Your softly pouted lips. Skin so pale and soft. Your kind expression. Your curious intelligence.” He kissed the base of her neck. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Carrie. If we are blessed with long lives, I hope I will see your face covered in wrinkles one day. Your eyes will still sparkle like this.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “Your body will not be like this forever. I want to see you fat with our children nurtured in your belly. I will love you through all of this, because your body and your face are not what I really cherish. It’s you.” He lifted a hand to her heart. “It’s your goodness in here. It’s all of you.”
He spun her into the circle of his arms. “This is what I should have said to you in Spain. But I was frustrated, and I acted on impulse. I want you to see yourself as I do. As your friend Juanita does. A wonderful person – a person not defined by hair colour or cosmetics.”
She made a sound of sadness, which was odd, because his words made her feel almost as if she could fly.
“But I will go gently, Carrie. If we have to discuss this every day, until you finally understand and accept what you are, then we will do it. If you never give up your obsession for lettuce and lipstick, I will still love you.”
Carrie dipped her head forward to disguise the searing comprehension that was beginning to dawn.
“But please, Carrie, tell me you want me. That you want this.”
She lifted her face, so that she could stare into his eyes. “You look at me in the strangest way,” she said seriously, her eyes scanning his face.
“Do I?” He frowned. “What way is that?” Impatience was spreading through him, and fear too. Fear that she might walk away from him for the last time.
She wrinkled her brow and flicked her blue eyes from left to right, then stared with concentration into his eyes. He laughed at her impersonation of him, but he understood. “I have been looking for you all this time. Behind the make up, and the cool way you hold your emotions in check, I have been looking for the Carrie who speaks to birds and sings at roses. I sometimes wondered if I’d lost you but then every now and again you’d appear. At the most unexpected times.”
She smiled brightly at him. “Like now?”
“Yes.” He nodded slowly. “Now you are much as I have always thought of you.”
She laughed with uncontained happiness, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you.”
Three words – undoubtedly the best he’d ever heard. He held her tight, and silently promised her that he would love her so much that she had no choice to love herself, too.
“But Gael,” she pulled away for a second, a small frown of bemusement on her face. “When you talked about growing old together, and all that…”
Fear rendered his heart cold. “Si?”
“I really do love you, but …”
“What is it?”
“Oh, it’s just …” she bit down on her lip. Be brave, she silently encouraged. “I don’t want to get married. I mean, not now.”
“Uh huh,” he said with a comprehending nod. “You are only twenty three, after all.”
“Exactly! Almost twenty four. But I still feel way too young. It’s funny, I don’t feel that about Juanita and Tom. But … I want to have time with you to…”
“Have fun with me?” He prompted with a smile.
“Yes. Before we settle down and become boring.”
His laugh was rich with pleasure. “I do not think we will ever become boring,” he promised, as he kissed her lips with all the love and passion in his soul.
Epilogue
Three years later
Carrie’s eyes read the newspaper article again, her whole body sparking with a sense of other-person-ness
Two years after its launch, NewNetwork has become one of the top earning apps of the year. Its financial success and high profile are notable achievements, but of far greater import is the litmus test of the app’s real world achievement. The lofty goals of entrepreneur Carrie Beauchamp saw what could have been just an ambitious idea turned into one of the hottest launches in IT.
It collected an impressive market-share in its first month, helped in part by the backing of financial powerhouse Gael Vivas.
With news that several blue chip tech companies are vying to get their hands on the program, the app seems to have achieved a coup in the competitive world of tech start-ups.
Carrie folded the paper and pushed it aside.
“You’
re a financial powerhouse,” she said with a teasing smile, lifting her coffee cup and sipping it gratefully.
“Am I, indeed?”
His dark eyes were loaded with feeling as he took in Carrie’s appearance. She was more beautiful now than she’d ever been; happy and care-free, and proud of her professional achievements. And rightly so.
“Uh huh.”
“Does that make you want to marry me yet?”
Carrie laughed quietly, as she had every morning since the night in her London townhouse, when he’d made her see just how damned much he loved her. It was a running joke between them, his flippant marriage proposals. He’d told her, a long time ago, that he was always testing the water, living in hope that one day she might surprise him and say ‘Yes, I’m ready!”.
“Not yet,” she responded. But her heart was flipping over in her chest. Something felt different that morning. Changed.
She shifted in her seat, sipping her coffee to conceal a frown.
Gael leaned forward, attuned to even the finest shift in her mood. Particularly when it came to this subject.
“Even if I told you I have the perfect ring?”
Her bright blue eyes flared wide. She wouldn’t have been healthy if she hadn’t been even a little curious. “Mmm,” she said with a small smile.
Gael stood and reached into a shoe beside the door, pulling out a black velvet box.
“What?” Carrie laughed loudly now. “How did I not find that?”
He grinned. “It’s been there for nine months, so your guess is as good as mine. “
“Nine months? Well,” she said, clearing her throat. “I guess you’d better let me look inside.”
He nodded, amazed that he could feel nervous. After all, they’d lived together as man and wife for three years. He knew that she loved him, and wanted a future with him. Still, anxiety was his overriding emotion as he crouched before her.
“Until I met you, I had no idea that I was made for love. I’d seen what it could do to people, and I’d sworn I would never fall into that trap. But it’s not a trap, and I see that now. Loving someone like you is an opportunity and a blessing. Carrie Beauchamp, you are, quite simply, an angel on earth. From the moment we met, I have felt this connection and need to love and protect you, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.
Billionaires: They're powerful, hot, charming and richer than sin... Page 105