11. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Vicente Godoy
A pang of disappointment hits me square in the chest when Camila says she can’t make it to dinner. I don’t know why I'm so hellbent on her coming along.
She was right when she said she gave me all the information on the document she prepared for me. But the moment I saw her come into the office, I felt a shot of electricity run up my spine. Thankfully, I was leaning on her desk. Otherwise, I’m sure I would have fallen on my arse.
The woman has an aura about her, just as she said—brightness. Something that can’t be appreciated through a grainy security feed.
I did appreciate her curves from afar, and the moment she did her silly dance...
Fuck .
The way her hips swayed. In that moment, It took everything in me not to groan as my dick grew harder.
But the real question is why she affects me so easily? I definitely don’t want to figure that out. It might lead to a place I might not come back from.
And that fact terrifies and excites me in equal measure.
“He’s finally back,” Owen says as he approaches the table at Kioko where I’ve been sitting for the past ten minutes.
“I’ve been waiting for you, arsehole. My time is precious—I should charge you for the time you made me waste,” I say with a scowl.
Owen swallows nervously. “Good to know your charming personality didn’t stay in Chile,” he says as he sits down.
A waiter immediately brings us water and the menus. I order a bottle of wine, and the waiter scurries away.
“You seem to bring out the best in me, Owen,” I say.
He laughs, and I take a sip of water.
“So, tell me, how did you meet this guy Durán?”
Owen clears his throat before answering. “Well, remember that deal you were going to help me with before you had to rush off to Chile?”
I nod as the waiter arrives with the wine. After Owen tastes it, he pours us each a full glass, and we order our usual.
“The deal was with a Belgium-based company. They’re outsourcing sustainable chocolate from around the world to create a new product, and Durán is one of the farmers they contacted.”
I raise an eyebrow. I thought these kinds of details were supposed to stay secret—unless Owen had finalized the deal. But if that’s the case, why does he need me?
“In the end, Durán was one of the farmers selected. I approached him, thinking I could do business with him. But then, he mentioned you— how much he admires the work your father is doing in Chile and how he would love to meet the next heir of the Godoy Empire.”
Owen’s smile is too big to be genuine.
And why would Durán mention me to Owen?
It doesn’t make any sense.
“So, you’re trying to facilitate a meeting between Durán and me?” I ask, my gaze narrowing.
Owen's smile grows bigger. “Exactly.”
“Hmm, you’re the middle man now. Who would’ve thought?” I smirk, and he flips me off.
For a fraction of a second, his smile dims—but he quickly recovers. “Anything to keep the ball rolling,” he says and clinks his wine glass against mine, before taking a big gulp.
Interesting.
Six weeks ago, he wanted me to be the middleman, now he wants to switch places.
What changed?
The waiter quickly arrives with our food, setting down my plate of salmon and Owen’s steak. The rich aroma fills the air, momentarily distracting me.
“I’ll call your office to schedule a lunch with Durán,” he says, biting into his raw steak. “By the way, I can’t wait to meet your new assistant. Her voice is sexy as hell.” He wiggles his brows.
I look at him with disgust.
“What?” he asks, a slimy smirk on his face.
“You’re a married man, Owen. For fuck’s sake.” I scowl.
“And? I might be married but I’m not blind, and definitely not deaf.”
I shake my head, feeling way more angry at the thought of Owen having an affair with Camila than I should. I don’t condone cheating, but it’s definitely not my business.
“Unless…” he begins.
“Unless what?”
“Unless you want to smash her first. In which case, I’ll happily move to the side and wait my turn like the fucking gentleman that I am.”
He chews loudly, bits of food visible between his teeth as an ugly grin stretches across his face.
Bile raises in my throat, and I decide to leave before I do something stupid—like knocking this arsehole senseless in one of the most exclusive restaurants in London.
“Enjoy dinner. It’s on me,” I say as I get up.
I nod at the waiter, who meets me by the door. “Let him have whatever he wants, and send the bill to my office.”
The waiter nods, and I make my way to the valet.
It’s time to do some digging of my own.
“Camila, I need you to come over,” I say through the intercom.
I immediately hear the clicking of her heels on the hardwood floors. Even though she wears simple clothes, the woman knows how to wear them. Today, she’s wearing a black pencil skirt that limits her movements, so he has to take shorter steps while walking faster. The result is her arse swaying like a wave in the Caribbean Sea.
“Yes, boss?” she says as she comes into view.
She ditched the “Mr. Godoy” a couple of days ago. My initial thought was to correct her and ask—not demand—to call me Mr. Godoy with that thick accent of hers. But then I decided “boss” had a good ring to it, too.
“I’m about to call Durán, and I would like you to be present to take notes at the meeting.”
She gives me a blinding smile and takes a seat across from me, her tablet on her lap. Crossing her legs to the side, she looks like a siren taking a sunbath.
Fuck. Since when do I think like a moron?
A siren ?
“ Senor Durán ?” Camila says after he picks up on the second ring. “Good afternoon. This is Camila Flores, Mr. Godoy’s executive assistant.”
“Camila, what a pleasure. How are you today?” he says.
I immediately don’t like him. Is he trying to hit on Camila?
She smiles and doesn’t miss a beat, replying, “I’m doing great. Thank you for asking. Are you ready for Mr. Godoy?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he says, chuckling.
I scoff. Camila widens her eyes in horror at me, and I take a deep breath before greeting him with my most menacing tone.
“Mr. Durán, what can I do for you?”
I see Camila press her lips hard against each other, clearly trying to avoid laughing. I can’t help it—I smirk at the sight.
“Oh, well, a man of few words, I see,” Durán says.
Camila closes her eyes.
Did I fuck it up?
I’m sure if he admires my father and did his due diligence, he would know that I’m ruthless when negotiating and have no patience for formalities.
“Well, Godoy,” Durán continues, "I have acquired three new cocoa farms in the Antioquia region, and I’m in the process of certifying them as sustainable. I’m looking for partners who can create products with my exquisite beans. Since there’s a rumor that your father is retiring, I thought I would offer you the exclusivity of my beans for the Chilean market.”
I like it. The man can adapt, shifting from friendly to all business without a second thought.
I do also like the idea of adding chocolate to the umbrella of products Hacienda Carmen currently offers. Wine, flowers, and chocolate. We could be the one-stop destination for sweeping women off their feet.
And it would give us a different vibe than what Karina and Luca are offering at their vineyard.
“I need to be honest with you, Durán. I like the idea of having exclusive rights to an outstanding product.”
I can almost hear his smile through the phone as he hums his appreciation.
“But I must know, why did you approach Owen Clarke instead of me directly?”
The line goes silent.
Camila’s eyes immediately fix on mine. She called it—there’s something fishy here.
She smirks, and it catches me off guard. Is she getting a kick out of this? For some reason, I hope that’s the case. Mrs. Evans would have never smirked at me that way.
Maybe Camila will turn out to be a thrilling partner.
“There must be a misunderstanding, Godoy. Clarke is the one who approached me. He mentioned he was interested in buying the vineyard in case you decided not to take your father’s seat.”
Camila’s eyes go wide, and my jaw tenses. I’m so fucking pissed, I wouldn’t be surprised if I crack a molar or two.
“I see,” I say as I release a deep breath.
Camila looks at me and shakes her head—no.
She’s right.
I need to be smarter than Owen. I can’t blow this up.
“Listen, Durán. I’m definitely interested and would like to explore the possibilities this deal could bring. But, as the businessman you are, I’m sure you understand that I prefer not to discuss my ventures before they are finalized.”
“Of course, I won’t say a word to anyone,” he assures me. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”
I disconnect the call and smash my fist against my desk.
“Fucking arsehole.”
If I had any doubts after the trip to Chile that my destiny was to take charge of what’s been in my family for generations—which I didn’t—they disappeared the moment I heard my so-called friend was making plans to buy my family’s legacy behind my back.
“Mr. Godoy?” Camila says slowly, which immediately placates me.
“I’m sorry, Camila. It’s just Owen and I have been friends for years. I never thought he would try to do something like this.”
She smiles briefly as she checks something on her tablet. But then, as her eyes catch something on the screen, she freezes, and her smile vanishes.
“What is it?” I ask, suddenly worried.
“Mr. Godoy, I know your friend.” She swallows hard. “And he’s a piece of shit.”