15. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Vicente Godoy
I ’ve closed billion-dollar deals, stood in rooms with the most powerful men in the world—but nothing has ever made me feel as invincible as having Camila beside me.
Walking with her, guiding her to my car, watching her thick, gorgeous thighs adjust in the seat of my Aston Martin—it’s the sexiest thing I’ve seen in a long time. But it’s more than that.
The protectiveness that overcomes me when she’s near is something I’ve never experienced before.
I want to be the man she turns to, the one who stands between her and the rest of the world.
I want to be the reason she feels untouchable, the steady hand at her back, that voice that reminds her she’s never alone.
Her guardian.
Her knight in shining armor.
“Camila. Where to?” I ask.
She gets all flustered, and I berate myself. I need to stop talking like I’m upset all the time. If I want her to trust me, I need to stop being an arsehole.
“Oh, yes. I’m sorry. I made reservations at Annata,” she says as I drive us out of the carpark and into the Mayfair traffic.
I didn’t tell her which restaurant to pick, but I’m glad she chose something she felt comfortable with. The food at Annata is superb.
“Ava sent you something,” she says as she takes a pink piece of paper out of her bag. “I wasn’t sure if it was okay to give it to you, but since we’re not in the office, I figured I’d try.”
I smile at her and take the paper from her hands when we hit a red light.
There are three stick figures on a sofa. The tallest—which I think is me—is drawn in black crayon, probably because I was wearing a black suit yesterday. The one I think is Camila is in pink, and the smallest figure, sketched in blue and has pink bows, sits between us.
It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen, but warmth spreads through me at the thought of me making an impact in this little girl’s life.
She has already changed mine.
Would she still like me if I asked her Mum to marry me?
Would I be a good father figure for her?
Before meeting them, never in my life did I think about creating a family. But the way these two warm my heart— so easily, so unexpectedly—makes me think that maybe…just maybe…this feeling isn’t so strange after all.
Maybe it’s exactly what I’ve been missing.
I don’t want to let them go.
“She said that was a picture of the three of us yesterday,” Camila says softly, pulling me from my thoughts. “She was thrilled to have you with us, but you don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to.”
She makes a move to take the paper from my hand, but I immediately move it toward my door and tuck it in the holder, safe and secure.
“Oh no, I’m definitely keeping it. No one has ever painted something for me,” I say honestly, and her smile widens.
The light turns green, and I focus on driving.
When we get to the restaurant, I park on the street and glance her way. Her fingers trace small, nervous patterns on her skirt, an endearing gesture I hadn’t anticipated.
“Stay put,” I say low, but a little rougher than I intended.
She looks up, her brows drawing together, but she doesn’t argue.
I step out, then walk around the car and open the door for her. When she gives me her hand, I interlock our fingers. And even though she looks confused, she doesn’t remove her hand from my hold.
We both must feel the current coursing through our veins, because our hands jerk in unison.
I chuckle but don’t release her.
She gives me a timid smile, but the flush on her cheeks tells me she’s feeling this too.
“Good afternoon Mr. Godoy. Do you have a reservation?” the hostess asks with a polite smile.
I give her a pointed look.
“Of course, my bad. This way, please,” she says all flustered, and I could kick myself for being an arsehole with everyone. I could have definitely told her in a nicer way
I just hope my arseholery won’t scare Camila away.
Camila squeezes my hand. When I look at her, she has a scowl on her face.
“You can be nicer, you know? It doesn’t cost you anything.”
“Oh, you mean you want me to stop being a dicktator ?”
I smirk as her eyes widen and her cheeks turn a deep shade of red.
This woman is definitely going to keep me on my toes, and I’m enjoying it more than I should.
She releases my hand and smacks me on the chest.
I bark out a laugh that has everyone in the restaurant looking at us. Camila looks mortified, but I couldn’t care less. I’m done abiding by the rules of a society that has a stick shoved up its arse.
All my life, I’ve been the perfect picture of a proper man.
Always following the rules.
Always trying to be the best while helping others.
And how has that helped me achieve my goals?
My father managed to throw in a ridiculous rule for me to get what I’ve been raised to do.
Now, I can only take charge of the vineyard if I get married—which is the reason why I’m here.
If I have to get married, at least I’m going to enjoy it.
And I’ll do it my way.
As I take a seat across from her, the waiter arrives with water and the menus. Camila asks for the crab ravioli, and I order the ribeye with roast potatoes and wild mushrooms.
“We’ll have a bottle of Pérignon as well,” I tell the waiter as he departs.
“Champagne?” she asks.
I shrug with a smile on my face. I need a little liquid courage to ask her to marry me. For all the bravado I have when dealing with businesses, I’m really nervous to hear a no from Camila’s mouth.
“By the way, I need to apologize for calling you dicktator . I didn’t mean for anyone to hear me, least of all you,” she says, gulping her water down, clearly uncomfortable by the term she anointed on me.
I bite my cheek to stop the grin that wants to break free on my lips.
“Don’t apologize. I find it hilarious. I’m sure I’ve been called worse—but you are right, never to my face.”
Clearing my throat and adjusting my tie, I decide there’s no time like the present. I'd rather tell her my plan now than wait until there’s food around and she decides to toss the pasta in my face.
“As you know, I spent the past month in Chile at my father’s request.”
She nods and takes a sip of her water.
“My family’s end goal has always been me taking charge once my father retires. Being the oldest of three. It was always assumed it’d be my duty to carry on the Godoy legacy.”
“And your father is ready to retire?”
“Yes. He says he wants to enjoy life and travel with my mother while they still can.”
“As they should,” she says, and we both smile.
I can only hope I will live long enough to grow old with this woman who has captivated me with her tenacity and beauty.
“The point is, my father has decided to put one more requirement in place to hand the vineyard and the entirety of the Godoy assets over to me.”
I pause, gauging her response, and her eyes are glued to mine.
“I need to get married before the next planting season.”
Camila doesn’t move. She doesn’t even seem to be breathing.
“You are. I mean. Are you—?” She coughs and takes a sip of water. “You’re getting married? Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. I feel like Ava and I took advantage of you yesterday. I apologize, Mr. Godoy. I apologize deeply.”
“Camila,” I say as I grab her hand, attempting to calm her and stop her babbling. “I haven’t dated in years. Hell, I haven’t even hooked up with a woman in well over a year.”
“What are you saying?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I clear my throat, trying to gain some courage, and then take a deep breath.
No turning back now.
Locking eyes with her, I finally say the words.
“Camila, I would like to marry you.”
My thumb traces soft circles on the top of her hand, an attempt to calm my nerves—and maybe hers too.
“What?”
Her voice goes up an octave, her eyes widening as she struggles not to choke.
She fans herself with the napkin, and I can already tell this isn’t going the way I had hoped.
What was I thinking?
That she’d be so grateful I asked her to marry me after spending one day with her and her daughter?
Yeah, Godoy. You’re fucking delusional.
“Just hear me out. You’re an exceptional woman, Camila. You’ve carried the weight of the world on your shoulders for far too long—and somehow, you make it look effortless.”
I lean in, my gaze locked on hers, willing her to believe me.
“But you don’t have to do it alone. Let me be the one who stands beside you. Let me share the weight, the worry, and the wins. Let me be there for you.”
Because God help me, I want to be.
“What? Why me?” she asks, fisting the napkin and nervously playing with it.
I chuckle at the disbelief on her face. “I just told you. I think you are remarkable, Camila. The kind of woman I should marry.”
“But we barely know each other. You’re my boss. I have a daughter.”
She starts listing all the reasons this is a bad idea, her voice rising with each one. Then, as if touching me only makes it worse, she yanks her hand from mine and grabs her water, chugging it in one big gulp.
I stay calm, watching her process my proposal. “But we’ll have time to get to know each other. And worst case? If things don’t work out, you can walk away with two million pounds.”
She closes her mouth.
Her eyes go wide.
Her eyebrows shoot so high, I wonder if they’ll ever come down.
She is—without a doubt—the picture of shock.
“Camila, think about it. If you marry me, we can explore any and all treatments for thalassemia.”
Her shoulders stiffen, and I immediately know I said the wrong thing.
“My daughter is not a pawn.”
She drops the napkin onto the table and starts to rise from her seat.
Just then, the waiter appears with our food and champagne.
I murmur my thanks, barely registering the plates in front of me because all I see is her—standing, torn between walking away and hearing me out.
“Camila, please. Take a seat.”
I plead with my eyes, desperate for her not to shut this down before we’ve even had the chance to talk this through.
“I could never think of Ava as a pawn. I was simply pointing out that you could explore treatments for her disorder that you might not have access to otherwise.”
She looks ready to interrupt me, but I lift a finger, silently asking her to let me finish.
She presses her lips together and sinks back into her chair.
“Think about it. We both can benefit from this arrangement.”
When she releases a deep breath, I know I got her—at least she’s thinking about it.
“Vicente, I wish it were that simple. But what if I say yes, we get married and then the inevitable happens? We divorce. That would not only be a burden to deal with—it would break Ava’s heart. I don’t think I can do it.”
This time she presses her fingers against her temples.
“Even if we end up getting a divorce, it doesn’t mean that it can’t be amicable. I want to be part of your life. Of Ava’s life. Please, Camila.” I practically beg. Because one thing is certain—I want to be a part of their lives.
Her eyes are full of unshed tears, and panic starts spreading through my veins.
What is happening?
“Well, well, well. Look who we have here.”
Owen materializes next to us, and Camila and I startle by the boom of his voice.
“Vicente, fancy seeing you here.”
Gemma, Owen's wife, greets me. I was expecting her to say something for the state I left her husband in, but I guess he didn’t tell her what happened.
Interesting.
“Owen, Gemma. What a surprise,” I say, my tone clipped.
“Oh, Camila. I didn’t recognize you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Vicente having lunch with an employee,” Owen says.
I see fucking red as a grin spreads on Owen’s lips while Camila’s gaze goes to her lap.
“Well, it just so happens Camila is my fiancée,” I say.
Gemma immediately hugs Camila, who is frozen in place. Owen’s slimy expression goes from elation to confusion in one microsecond, and I feel triumphant, having removed the grin from his face.
“I thought she was your assistant?” he asks, confused.
“Yeah, well. That’s how we met.” I shrug it off as I serve champagne for Camila and myself.
Just as I’m about to toast, Gemma catches on, her eyes going wide with realization.
“Oh, oh!” she exclaims “Congratulations, you two. Camila, such a pleasure to meet you. Let me know if I can help you in any way planning the wedding of the century. Vicente Godoy is getting married. I can’t believe this.”
Owen shoots me a murderous look as he leans in, his voice low enough only for me to hear.
“This is not the end of things. You might have been my best friend at some point, but now…”
He trails off, straightening to his full height, and with a curt nod to Camila, he leads Gemma to their table.
What the fuck did he mean by that? Was he hoping to have an affair with Camila?
Now that he’s basically said our friendship is over, it’s not like I can call him and ask him what his deal is. This is where I regret not having more friends—someone who could dig for answers on my behalf.
“Really, Vicente?”
When I turn to Camila, she’s glowering at me.
Fuck . I definitely didn’t think things through.
“I’m sorry, it just came out,” I say.
“You’re sorry?” she asks between clenched teeth, her eyebrows forming a straight line. “I thought you said you were going to give me time to think things through.”
“And I will, but I just couldn’t take Owen’s face as he looked down at you.”
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. I should do the same, but I can’t take my eyes off her.
“Let’s just eat. This whole ordeal has made me extremely hungry.” A hint of a smile appears on her face, but it’s gone before I can do a double take.
We eat and drink in peace as Camila talks about how amazing the pasta is.
Just to be safe, I order an Amalfi lemon tart to share. And the pleasure sounds Camila makes after each bite has me praying she’ll agree to marry me.
I can’t get enough of this woman.
Once we’re done eating, instead of heading back to the car, I decide to walk around the block. I’m looking for a store, but all I see are restaurants.
When was the last time I walked around London like this?
“Where are we going?” she asks as she speed walks to keep up with me.
I slow down and hold her hand—and just like before, she doesn’t pull away.
“I’m looking for something.”
“Can you be more cryptic?”
I chuckle at her sarcasm. “I need to buy something for Ava.”
Camila stops in her tracks, and when I look at her, she’s ready for battle.
“You don’t need to bribe her to get on your side.”
“For fuck’s sake, woman. I’m not trying to bribe her. I just want to send her a little something as a thanks for the card she made me.”
Camila’s eyes soften immediately, but she stays quiet as we continue walking
When Harrods comes into view, we make our way inside the store. I can feel her gaze on me the entire time.
When I see the Cartier section, I smile, an idea already forming.
Before I can take another step, Camila pulls me back. I turn to face her, and her eyes are wild.
“Are you getting jewelry for a five-year-old?”
“It’s something small.”
“Vicente, you can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t afford to give her presents like this.”
This gives me pause. I don’t mean to make her feel less, but that’s definitely what I’m accomplishing.
Good job, arsehole .
“Good thing I can. And if you were to marry me, you could too.”
“Argh,” she complains, and I chuckle.
Once I spot the brooch I want to buy, I flag down the lady who works the area.
She comes over with a huge smile on her face. “May I help you, sir?”
“Actually yes. Will you please wrap that duck brooch for me?” I ask.
The woman eyes me, then glances at Camila before offering a smile. “Certainly. It’ll be just a minute.”
I take out my black card, not even bothering to ask for the price.
“Vicente, that brooch costs a fortune,” Camila whispers against me.
I wish her lips were closer to mine. I can feel her breathing on my chest, sending sparks flying in my stomach.
“Can you please relax? It’s okay,” I whisper against her hair, grabbing her by her waist and pulling her close to me.
She immediately relaxes under my touch.
Oh, Camila. There must be a war raging between your body and your mind, because right now, they’re both giving me very different messages.
“Here it is, sir. Anything else?” The woman comes back with the brooch packed in a small red box.
“Do you have a card?”
She nods and hands me a small one. I take a moment to write a message before tucking it inside the box.
“That would be all for now,” I say as I quickly pay.
I pocket my black card, and holding Camila’s hand, we head back out.
On our walk back to the car, Camila asks, “Wait, how did you know to get a duck for Ava?”
I smile, as I replay our conversation yesterday. “She told me she got her boo-boo chasing some swans at the park. I figured it was her favorite animal.”
Camila doesn’t say anything, but I can see the pleased smile that forms on her face. “See? I pay attention to the things that matter. And you and Ava matter to me”
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
I give her a wink. “Is there anything you need from the office?” I ask, and she frowns. “I was just thinking that if you have your bag with you, I can just drop you off at home.”
“Oh no, you don’t have to do that. It’s not necessary.”
“It absolutely is. I can’t let my fiancée ride the Tube when I can take her home.”
“I haven’t agreed to your proposal yet.”
“It’s just a matter of time.”
She sticks out her tongue at me, and I chuckle. This woman is light and fun, never a dull moment with her.
We drive in comfortable silence, which I’m grateful for—because all I have in my head is the paperwork I need to have ready for when she says yes.
And a ring. I also need to get her a ring.
When we get to her flat, I park and help her get out of the car.
“When do you need an answer?” she asks as we stand by the building door.
“As soon as possible. There are many things to get in place.”
She nods as she releases a breath.
“Okay, I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gives me a smile and a wave. Before disappearing into her building, she pauses.
“And thank you for Ava’s present. She’s going to love it. Are you sure you don’t want to come in and give it to her?”
“No, no. I don’t want to impose. Or, as you said—I don’t want to bribe her.”
Camila rolls her eyes, but the smile on her lips remains.
I chuckle as I make my way back to my car. But underneath the laughter, doubt nags at me. What if, after spending more time with me, Camila decides this whole arrangement is a travesty?
The ball is in her court now.
I hate this—not being in control, not knowing how this will play out. But if I want this to work, I need to trust her and give her time to figure things out.