19. Chapter 19
Chapter 19
Vicente Godoy
C amila and I haven’t done anything exciting today, other than that kiss I can’t get off my mind. But today has been one of the best days of my life. Who knew doing mundane things with an amazing woman would feel so right.
I drive us back to the office—I figured Camila would feel comfortable here. Since I gave everyone the day off, it's an empty space that’s not my home.
“What are we doing here?” Camila asks with a frown as I pull inside the car park.
“I thought it’d be a neutral space for us to talk. We’ll order lunch,” I say as I get out of the car and jog around to help her out.
“Sounds good.” She places her hand in mind, and I pull her closer to me, our entangled hands resting around her waist.
We ride the lift in silence. Her breathing is steady, hitting my chest in a constant rhythm. I imagine how it would feel to have that breath against my neck as I take her against the walls of this lift. Would she like it rough? Or would she want me to take my time, peeling off her clothes in the office, like I’m unwrapping a present?
Fuck .
What if she doesn’t want to consummate the marriage?
There’s no way she’s not attracted to me—I’ve seen how she stares at my lips, hunger in her eyes. The same hunger I feel for her.
“Vicente?” she says, taking me out of my thoughts.
“Yes?” I blink, realizing we’re already in my office.
“Do you want me to order lunch?”
I shake my head. “Why don’t you take a seat on my sofa and relax? I’ll take care of lunch.”
I wink, and she makes her way to my sofa.
Good girl.
I loosen my tie and unbutton my vest. Why do I dress as if I have a stick up my arse? I miss the simplicity of running the vineyard. I dressed way more comfortably there.
After ordering Chinese food, I make my way to the sofa where Camila is sitting, furiously typing on her phone.
Once I take a seat next to her, she smiles as she finishes typing then puts her phone away.
“Who were you texting?” I ask, and she raises a brow. “We’re getting married, I deserve to know if there’s a man who will try to claim you at the town hall.”
She bursts out laughing, and now it’s my turn to frown.
“Vicente, who would have thought that you had it in you to be funny,” she says, wiping tears from her eyes.
Ouch. Am I really that grumpy?
“I texted Ava’s babysitter to let her know that I’d pick her up,” she admits.
I feel like an idiot. Of course she was handling Ava’s stuff. She already told me she hasn’t been in a relationship since Ava’s father passed. Why did I have to let my jealousy show?
“So is everything taken care of? Do you still need to pay her even though she’s not going to take care of Ava?” “Of course I will. I can’t do that to Mrs. Evans.”
My eyes go wide. “You mean Mrs. Evans, my former assistant?”
Camila nods, and I bark out a laugh.
“What? What’s so funny?” she asks as I try to calm down so I can speak again.
“That old lady,” I say, taking a calming breath.
Camila smacks me on the chest, an admonishing look on her face. I love seeing her in mom mode .
“What? I’m not lying. She’s old. And now I understand why she was so adamant about hiring you.”
Camila’s eyebrows form a thin line as she speaks. “I hope you’re not thinking all this was a set up, because never in my wildest dreams did I imagine fake-marrying my boss.”
For some reason, that rubs me the wrong way. I clench my teeth tightly before I can say something hurtful.
Am I so undesirable? And why does she keep referring to this as fake? The fact that it’s mutually beneficial for the both of us doesn’t mean it’s fake. I meant it when I told her I was going to take care of her and Ava.
“No, of course not. There’s no way she knew my father was going to change the stipulations for me to inherit the vineyard,” I say. Camila visibly relaxes, as do I. “I just know that she clearly wanted us to meet.”
She smiles and turns to face me on the sofa. “So, you think Mrs. Evans played matchmaker?” she says, leaning closer to me.
My body reacts instantly, tension pooling low as my pulse quickens.
“Yeah. I don’t think she thought it was going to be so fast, but I’m sure she knew what she was doing.”
I follow Camila’s lead, draping my arm across the back of the sofa. She immediately relaxes her head against my forearm like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Camila, look at you,” I whisper. “You’re stunning.”
She chuckles, and her cheeks warm, but there is a hint of disbelief in her eyes.
“What? You don’t believe me?” I tease.
She bites her lip before shaking her head.
I lean in, voice low and steady. “Do you think if I were lying, I would be this hard for you?”
Before she can answer, I guide her hand to my undeniable bulge. To my surprise, Camila doesn’t flinch. Instead, she squeezes, making me groan.
“Is this really because of me?” she whispers, her face just millimeters away from my lips.
Instead of answering, I close the gap to kiss her, claiming her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. My hands cradle her face, and in one fluid motion, she straddles me
The moment her core aligns with mine, heats coils in my stomach, and it takes everything in me not to lose control. The feel of her against me—soft, yet urgent—sets every nerve ending on fire. My instinct screams at me to pound into her right here, against the massive windows overlooking the city. To tell her how beautiful she is in every way I can.
But if this is her first time in over five years, she deserves to set the pace.
Her hands explore my chest, while mine go directly to her arse—that damn arse I’ve been ogling for weeks now. She’s fucking perfect, and I can’t wait to taste her. To make her mine. I slowly start to pull up her dress, and she lets me.
“Camila, let me look at you.”
I break the kiss, and when I look at her, she’s smiling—radiant, breathtaking. I help her to her feet, and holy fuck , she’s a vision.
Lace bra and panty set. Black. Delicate and barely there.
For a moment, all I can do is take her in, my pulse hammering as I admire every inch of her. But the more I look at her, the more uncomfortable she gets. She wraps her arms around herself, covering her belly.
“No, what are you doing?” I ask, standing and pulling her into my arms.
“Vicente, I’m a mom. I have stretch marks.” Her voice hitches, and I press her closer to me.
She won’t meet my eyes. “You only date models and beautiful women. I don’t feel like I measure up to your standards,” she adds.
My jaw clenches, anger coursing through me. I hate that she sees herself that way.
“That might be true of the old me. But if you notice, I didn’t ask any of those women to marry me. I asked you . I want you.”
“Yeah, well…maybe because you feel pity for me and Ava.”
Pity?
Instead of trying to convince her how much I’m into her, I decide to show her.
“No, Camila. I don’t feel pity for you or Ava.”
I capture her lips again, this time kissing her with everything I feel—hunger, need, possession. She melts into me as I walk us backward toward my chair, lowering myself into the seat as I guide her to straddle me again.
Her hips start moving, and I thank the gods the moment isn’t ruined. I need this woman as much as I need my next breath.
My hands travel up her spine, fingers reaching for the clasp of her bra, ready to strip away one of the last barriers between us—
And then her phone rings.
Camila jumps up, scrambling off my lap. She rushes over to her bag, yanking out her phone.
“Hello?” she answers breathlessly.
I watch as her body stiffens, her free hand trembling as she takes a few slow, deep breaths.
“I’m on my way. Thank you for calling.”
She hangs up and immediately starts dressing, her hands shaking.
“What happened?” I ask as I pass a hand over my hair, trying to take a few deep breaths to get myself under control.
“Ava fell at school, and I might need to take her to the hospital,” she says frantically, getting her clothes sorted.
Immediately, I remove my tie and button up my vest. Patting my pockets, I make sure I have my wallet and car keys.
“Let’s go,” I say, already heading for the door, but Camila stops in her tracks. Lunch forgotten.
“You’re not coming with me. I can handle it,” she insists, grabbing her bag and stepping in front of me.
I meet her gaze. “Camila, you’re not alone anymore. I can help you.”
She pauses and looks me in the eyes for a bit, searching for something. Finally, she nods and resumes walking toward the door.
We rush to the car park, and this time, I unlock my Rolls-Royce instead of the Aston Martin.
When she glances at me, I shrug. “We need a bigger car so Ava can fit safely.”
Her smile is small, sweet—but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s worried shitless about Ava. And so am I.
By the time we reach the school, Camila bolts as soon as I turn the car off, and I’m right behind her.
“I’m here to pick up Ava,” she says urgently as we enter the school’s administration office.
“Ms. Flores, hello. Ava is with a teacher’s assistant.”
The secretary points in the general direction where I assume Ava is, and Camila gives her a tight nod before marching off. I’m terrified to see how badly Ava must have fallen for the school to call her mother. I can’t imagine how many times Camila must have done this—alone.
Fuck.
When we enter a small room, Camila rushes to the chair where Ava is sleeping. I follow her closely, even though I still want to give them some space.
The teacher greets Camila, and after exchanging a couple of words, she leaves us alone with Ava.
“Ava, sweetie. Mummy is here,” Camila says in a low voice as she caresses Ava’s cheek.
It takes her a couple of minutes to wake up, but the moment Ava opens her eyes and sees me standing behind her mum, her face lights up.
“Boss Man, you’re here,” she says.
I relax a smidge. She’s fine, she’s okay, I keep telling myself. “Yes, duckling. I’m here.”
Ava giggles at the nickname, and Camila sits next to her.
“That’s what Mummy calls me,” Ava adds, and a grin forms on my face.
“Baby, what happened?” Camila asks, concern dripping from her tone.
“The same thing always happens, Mummy. I was running too fast, and I fell.”
I look at her shoes, and she’s wearing Mary Janes. I guess they are cute, but they aren’t meant for running.
“Maybe you should wear more comfortable shoes,” I say.
She frowns. “No, Boss Man, these are the only shoes I like.” She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.
I cover my mouth, trying to hide my smile from Ava. Camila stands to her full height, and when she looks at me, she’s smiling too. I can see the relief in her eyes—she’s not as worried now that it’s clear Ava is not in danger.
“Are you ready to go, sweetie? Do you think you can walk?” Camila asks gently.
Ava nods, but the slight hesitation in her movement doesn’t escape me.
“Nonsense. Here,” I say, stepping forward. I lean down to scoop Ava into my arms, cradling her like a baby.
“Thank you, Boss Man,” Ava murmurs as she rests her sweet little head on my chest.
The way she snuggles into me tugs at something deep inside me—just like her mom did when I held her close.
“You got it, duckling,” I reply softly, my throat tightening.
Camila walks beside us, her hand brushing Ava’s back before she glances up at me. As she opens the door to the exit, she mouths, Thank you .
I simply wink, not trusting myself to speak. The words aren’t there, but the emotions are—this fierce protectiveness for these two hit me like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart.
As I carry Ava out of the school, her small hand rests on my shoulder, and I feel love seeping through my pores.
And something else I haven’t felt in a long time: peace.
After settling Ava on the sofa, I notice the band-aid on her knee is red—she’s still bleeding. A wailing siren goes off in my head, but I force myself to stay calm for her sake.
I head to the kitchen, where Camila is putting a snack together.
“Ava’s still bleeding,” I blurt out instead of telling her gently.
Camila’s face goes pale as I squeeze my eyes shut. I need to learn to deliver news better. At this rate, I’m going to give her a heart attack.
“What?” she asks in disbelief, rushing to the living room.
When we reach Ava, there is a red stain on the blanket where her knee rests. She’s asleep, but I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.
“Vicente, please grab my bag. We need to take her to the hospital. I don’t have anything here to stop the bleeding,” Camila says, scooping Ava up.
I snap into action, grabbing her bag and closing the door behind me.
“Which hospital?” I ask after helping Camila into my car, Ava still cradled in her arms.
“Saint Mary’s,” she says, rocking Ava gently, murmuring words meant only for her.
I punch the address into the navigation system, sending up a silent prayer when I see it’s only an eight-minute drive.
By the time we get to the hospital, Ava is awake but groggy. How much blood has she lost?
The moment we enter A&E—the emergency room— I don’t hesitate.
“We need a doctor—immediately,” I shout.
Heads turn in our direction, but I don’t give a fuck if I’m making a scene—my little friend needs help.
“Calm down, sir. I’ll be with you in a moment to take your details, then we’ll get you in the queue for a nurse in triage,” the receptionist says.
I need to take a deep breath because I don’t have patience for this bullshit.
“Vicente, come on,” Camila murmurs next to me.
There’s no way I’ll sit down and do nothing while Ava is still bleeding. I help Camila and Ava into a seat in the row of chairs that line the waiting area. Once I know they’re settled, I stride to the triage station in two quick steps.
“Ava Flores is a five-year-old who suffers from thalassemia. She fell at school and her bleeding hasn’t stopped. She needs a doctor. Now.” I practically growl the last word, but the receptionist remains impassive.
“Here. Use this for whatever you need,” I say, taking out my black card and placing it on the counter.
The receptionist scoffs as she looks me up and down. “I’m not sure who you are, sir, but that’s not how things work here.” She moves the card back toward me, her tone dismissive.
I fist my hands. It takes everything in me not to lose it. The only reason I’m restraining myself is because I don’t want to startle Ava—or Camila.
“Listen,” I say, my voice rising. “I do not give a flying fuck how things work here. I need a doctor. Now!”
My outburst draws the attention of several nurses and doctors in A&E, who quickly gather around me.
A doctor who looks to be in his sixties, with white hair and deep wrinkle lines on his forehead, steps forward.
“I’m Dr. Harris. What’s going on?” he asks, his tone authoritative.
“Ava Flores,” I repeat urgently. “She’s five years old, suffers from thalassemia, and she’s bleeding.”
The doctor’s eyes widen, and he nods immediately. “Right this way.” He scans the waiting room for Ava, but Camila is already on her feet, following close behind him.
I turn back to face the receptionist, lowering my voice with a deep growl. “Pray that little Ava makes it out of this without any complications. Otherwise, you can kiss your job goodbye. We don’t need incompetents in the medical system.”
She gasps, her face pale as I grab my card. Without another glance, I follow Camila, Ava, and the doctor down the hallway.
“Only family can stay with the patient,” the doctor says.
I raise a brow in challenge. Unless Camila tells me to go, there’s no fucking way I’m leaving them alone.
“It’s okay, Dr. Harris. He can stay,” Camila says softly.
My inside warms at the thought of being part of their family. When Camila’s eyes lock with mine, something inside me stirs. They are carving a permanent spot in my heart.
Ava lies in a bed in a large room filled with rows of beds, only thin curtains separating them. Beside her bed, there’s a chair where Camila sits, and a tall table I assume is for the patients’ food.
I make a mental note to offer Camila to take Ava to a private hospital next time. I want only the best for this little angel.
Dr. Harris evaluates Ava, then calls a nurse in. She appears a second later, and he rattles off the name of some medications. The nurse nods and leaves in a hurry. I can only hope the bleeding can be stopped quickly .
Camila holds Ava’s right hand, and her head is leaned against the bed. She’s murmuring something—it looks like she’s praying.
Not wanting to disturb her, I place my hand on her shoulder and squeeze gently, letting her know she’s not alone.
The nurse returns and starts an IV on Ava’s left arm, then she administers a couple of medicines through the line.
“Ms. Flores, we would like to monitor Ava overnight, just to make sure she recovers well,” Dr. Harris says.
She tries to smile, but it comes out crooked. I wish I was the one in pain, not Ava. I hate this sense of helpless I feel—not to mention I hate seeing Camila so defeated.
“Thank you,” is all Camila manages to say before the doctor and the nurse leave, closing the curtains and cocooning us in a small, quiet space.
“Camila, what do you say? Do you want to head home, and I’ll stay with Ava?” I already know her answer, but I thought I would offer anyway.
“Thank you, Vicente. Your support means the world to me, but I need to stay with my baby,” she says, her eyes filling with emotion.
I crouch to meet her gaze, and a beautiful smile spreads across her lips.
“I know. I know. I just wish there’s something else I could do,” I admit, my hand sliding from her shoulder to the crook of her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
She places a hand on top of mine. “Trust me, you’ve done enough. And I can’t thank you enough.”
I inhale a deep breath, knowing there’s nothing else I can do for them at the moment. But I relish the fact that we’re getting closer. If something positive can come from today, let it be this.
I kiss her hand before rising to my full height. After a lingering look at Ava, I turn my gaze to Camila and give her a wink. She smiles softly, and I slowly make my way out of their makeshift room.
As much as I wanted to stay with them, I knew it wasn’t my place.
Not yet at least.
But deep down, I know they belong with me.
After spending the whole day with Camila and seeing Ava, my house feels like a mausoleum. I need to speed this marriage up. I need them to move in with me.
Whenever I’m with them, my life bursts with color. With excitement.
And after seeing how fragile Ava is, I need to keep them safe. Even though I know Camila will fight for Ava to get the best care possible at St. Mary’s, I know I can help. I want to help.
After taking a shower, I dry off and throw on a pair of sweats. Once I’m comfortable in bed, I grab my phone and text her.
Vicente : Is the duckling asleep?
Camila doesn’t reply immediately, so I decide to text Gabo while I wait.
Vicente : Any chance you and Isa are free next week? I need a favor.
My brother’s reply is instant.
Gabo : Hello, brother. How's it going? I’ve been thinking about you. How was your trip to the motherland?
Vicente : I came back a month ago, and you didn’t make the time to check on me? No, I don’t believe even for a second “you’ve been thinking about me.”
I love bickering with my siblings, especially with Gabo since we’re the closest in age.
Gabo : Fine. I’ve been busy living my best life with my girlfriend, but the moment I saw your text, I thought about you and your trip to Chile. Better?
Vicente : Yes. Thank you for your honesty.
Gabo : So how was the trip?
Vicente : Eye-opening. Let’s say—and this is between you and me—Father was right to send me home. I connected with the employees in ways I never could have remotely.
Gabo : Wait—don’t tell me you hooked up with one of the employees there. That’s rule number one of the Godoy Code of Conduct.
Vicente : Right. Just like you followed it when you hooked up with Isa who was an intern at your firm?
I can picture Gabo’s face getting hot and him pacing the floor.
Gabo : That’s different, and you know it. Bella has always been my endgame. From the moment she landed in Bologna, I knew she was it for me.
Ha! I scoff at my brother’s bullshit.
Vicente : Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Whatever helps you sleep at night.
Vicente : But no, I didn’t hook up with anyone in Chile. I listened. I learned. I feel like I’m finally ready to head back south and let Father rest.
Gabo : Wow, man. Honestly, I never thought I’d see the day. But I’m happy for you. Dad told me about his ultimatum, though.
Vicente : Yeah. Don’t get me started. I found someone, though. Her name is Camila.
Just typing her name and telling my brother about her brings a smile to my face.
Gabo : And where did you meet? Are you paying her to marry your sorry ass? I can’t believe this shit. I can’t wait to tell Luca.
Vicente : Don’t you fucking dare tell Luca. You know how much of a gossip he is, and I don’t want Father to know about any of this until I show up in Chile in August.
Gabo : Okay, fine. But tell me the deets. Where did you meet her?
The deets? My brother is dating a twenty-two-year-old, and it shows. I scoff as I continue spilling my guts to him.
Vicente : She’s my assistant.
Gabo : That old lady that looks like a granny? LMAO. I’m definitely telling Luca.
Vicente : No, you idiot. Mrs. Evans retired, and she hired her replacement. I didn’t really meet Camila until I came back from Chile last month. But the more I got to know her, the more I realized she was the right person to marry.
Gabo : How much are you paying her?
Vicente : I’m having a prenup drawn up for everyone’s sake, but I’m really into her, Gabo. This might have started as a marriage of convenience, but I want to be with her. I NEED her.
I leave out the part about her daughter needing better medical care. That’s not the reason anymore—at least not for me. I want to take care of them because they matter to me, not because I’m fulfilling my end of the bargain.
Gabo : Are you sure you’re my brother? This doesn’t sound like my “perfect oldest brother.”
Vicente : Fuck you, Gabo. I’m telling you, that trip and Camila made me see life in a different light.
Gabo : Damn, you’re serious?
Vicente : As a heart attack.
Gabo : Well, I said I’ll support you, so I will. I got your back. Just send me the details, and Bella and I will be there.
Vicente : Thank you, Gabo. It means more than you know.
After closing the text thread with my brother, I check the one with Camila again. She hasn’t even read my message yet.
Maybe she fell asleep in that chair next to Ava? Or maybe she’s trying to figure out how she feels—about this, about me .
I shake my head to push those thoughts away. This is exactly why I need to marry her. I need them here , under my roof, where I can protect them and provide for them.
I put my phone away and head to my home office, determination hardening my resolve.
In seven days, Camila Flores will be my wife, and Ava will have all my protection—and my love.
Nothing—no doubt, no fear, not even her hesitations—will stop me.