The Man In The Mirror: A Billionaire Romance

by Georgia Le Carre

  “That’s easily fixed,” I said and took the brush from him. I scraped the white away, repainted the face black and gave the brush back to him. With his little tongue poking out of his mouth he carefully added another white smile on to his father’s black mask. Then to my surprise he used the brush to connect his tiny stick hand with that of his father. He smiled up at me, to announce the completion of his task.

  “Your dad is holding your hand?” I said.

  He nodded. “I haven’t seen him for a very long time. Mummy says he is very busy.”

  “Do you miss him, Zackary?”

  His answer surprised me. “He makes me cry.”

  He rose to his feet then, lifting the kite up and handed it over to me.

  We put it away to dry and I reached for the water balloons. The next twenty minutes were spent filling them up by the tap. By the time we were done he was already half soaked, his cheeks rosy from all the laughing at his struggle in tying up the balloons without the water spilling out.

  “We need a songstress,” I said.

  “What’s a songstress?”

  “Someone who can sing.”

  “You can’t?”

  I puffed up my chest and spurts of laughter escaped my throat. “Well, I mean, I’m not too bad.”

  “Go on then. Sing something,” he urged.

  I waved my hand as though there were a crowd waiting just holding their breaths to listen to me and bless them with my talent. Zackary just stared at me curiously.

  “London bridge—” I screeched.

  “Nooooo,” he screamed, his hands flying to his ears.

  My eyes nearly popped out of my sockets. “Your voice can get that loud?”

  He started giggling then.

  “You sing then.” I pulled the bucket of balloons towards us. “We’ll pass this between us and when the song stops the person who’s holding it, will get a balloon squashed on their heads. He squealed with excitement at the prospect of squashing balloons on my head, and once again I was taken aback by how completely different he had become in the space of one morning.

  “I’ll start,” he yelled and began to sing Baa, baa, black sheep.

  I considered letting him win the first round, but since he’d never squashed a balloon on anyone’s head before it would be safer if I won the first round and let him see how it is done. So with more excitement than I should have had, I squashed the neon green ball on his head. It drenched him all the way down to his clothes. His laughter rang out to the skies, and his eyes sparkled with glee. I let him win the next round and he was brutal with that balloon.

  We kept at it until we were both soaked to the skin.

  “Come on,” I said taking his hand. We headed out to the garden to pass the balls between ourselves. “Whoever lets it drop will be blasted.”

  We played until we abandoned the game all together, and it turned into a full out balloon fight.

  We ended sprawled on the grass, exhausted. There were pieces of blasted rubber all over the grass. “Are you cold?” I asked him.

  “No,” he said, but I could see he was.

  “Come on, let’s get you in the bath. We rose up and found to our surprise the entire staff had gathered by the door to watch us, amusement all over their faces.

  “We took pictures,” Carrie yelled out.

  “Take this one.” I yelled back and lifted Zackary as far up in the air as high as I could. He yelped in startled joy, his legs flailing.

  The shot captured was pure perfection.

  Chapter 17

  Brett

  This was the first time I had traveled to London, or for that matter, anywhere, ever since I left the hospital, but it had worked out well. I only met with Logan and worked on a new investment projection alone, but it still felt good to leave the castle. Even my back didn’t hurt. I ran my hand along the large raised scar on my thigh. Actually, even my leg was feeling a lot stronger. Though I’d had a long day it did not throb or ache.

  Perhaps all my pain was in my mind.

  By the time I arrived home it was nearly midnight. The first thing I did was pull apart my drapes to see if Charlotte’s light was still on. It wasn’t, but the little bedside lamp in Zackary’s room must have been on, because it’s greenish light filled his window.

  I frowned. Surely, he was not still awake at this time.

  I picked up my phone and called Barnaby to ask him to go check on Zackary. But as if on cue, the light in Zackary’s room went off and seconds later the light came on in her room. Her curtains were open and I could see her walking around her room. She must have been with my son until now.

  “Sir?” Barnaby’s voice came through.

  I had been so engrossed watching Charlotte I had forgotten I was still holding the intercom phone. “Sorry for the trouble, Barnaby,” I said. “I thought I needed something, but it turns out I don’t.”

  “That’s quite all right, Sir. Goodnight,” he said formally.

  I wished him goodnight and disconnected the call. Slipping my hands into my pockets I watched her. She had a curvy figure. The kind I liked. Or I used to like. It was so many years ago that I last had even the desire for a woman, I had forgotten how my body felt when I was craving a woman. From this distance she did not look middle aged. She looked to be in her twenties.

  I dialed her room number and waited for her to respond.

  “Hello?” she said, and I noted the thrill that raced down my flesh.

  “Did Zackary just fall asleep?”

  “No, he didn’t,” she said. “I was reading him a story, but somehow I ended up putting the both of us to sleep.” The amusement in her tone filtered through and it made me long for a bliss I had never known.

  The words left my lips before I could stop them. “I wish I could fall asleep that easily.”

  “You have trouble falling asleep?”

  “Yes,” I said slowly. This was not exactly the conversation I wanted to have with one of my staff.

  “My mother has insomnia too. It is a remnant from the months before my father passed away.”

  “I’ve never been compared to someone’s mother before.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I didn’t mean in that way. “I mean …”

  “Charlotte, relax. It was a bad joke. I’m afraid I’m not used to talking to people anymore.”

  “Oh,” she said, the relief in her voice was obvious.

  “What did your father pass away from?”

  I could hear her hesitation but she eventually said, “Cancer. It was a long and painful battle.”

  “My condolences.” I could have kicked myself for probing. What was wrong with me? I was behaving like an insensitive prick.

  “It’s all right. It’s been almost seven years now so the pain is no longer as devastating.”

  “No longer as devastating,” I repeated turning the statement over in my mouth. “Is that really true? Does it ever completely heal?”

  “No,” she replied quietly. “It doesn’t. Even when you think it has … it comes back … as fresh as ever, to taunt you with what you lost and can never have back.”

  We both knew we were no longer talking about her father. There was an awkward pause. Neither of us knew how to fill it. I heard her take a quick intake of breath.

  “You took Zackary out to play today?” I blurted out.

  “I did,” she said quickly. “We made kites and harassed each other with water balloons. We had a blast, literally.” She chuckled to herself.

  I found my lips stretching into a smile. It was something that happened often when I was talking to her and hardly at all when I wasn’t.

  “I have pictures,” she said, “but … how do I send them to you?”

  “Do you have a USB stick?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Save the pictures on it and pass it to Barnaby.”

  “I’ll give it to him in the morning,” she said.

  “Do you mind if I … er … send him to you to tonight?” />
  “Of course. I’ll be awake for at least another hour.”

  “Thank you. Have a goodnight then, Charlotte.”

  “Wait … I mean.” She laughed nervously, “I just wanted to say thank you for allowing Zackary to spend time outside. He had a wonderful time today.”

  “It was your suggestion. It is I who must thank you,” I said.

  “I’m glad to be able to help,” she said softly.

  At that moment, all I wanted was to see her face. Know who I was talking to. That was also the moment I knew I had to end the conversation. I was getting too close. “Well, goodnight then.”

  “Brett?” she called, there was a hint of desperation in her voice.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think … would it be possible for you to make some time to spend with Zackary?”

  The idea was like a knife in my heart. She had no idea how much I wanted that. In the tense silence she rushed to explain herself. “It’s just that he drew you today. We made a kite and he drew you and his mother. I told him that perhaps the three of you could fly it together someday soon.”

  “Zackary is terrified of me,” I said, my voice sounded harsh with pain.

  She did not hesitate. “It didn’t seem that way,” she said. “In fact, he said … he said that he—” she stopped.

  “What did he say?” I asked, and even I could hear how desperately eager I sounded.

  “That you smiled a lot. He drew you with a big smile, but he said he had not seen you in a long while.”

  “Half my face has been gouged out. Did he somehow include that in his drawing?” I asked bitterly.

  I heard her draw a sharp breath. “No,” she replied. “He drew you with a mask, and painted the smile on top of the mask. You are his father and he loves you.”

  I think I cried once in my adult life. One night when I didn’t want to fight anymore. When the pain was so great and the end seemed so pointless. That one night in a dark pit of despair I thought about ending it all, but it was my love for Zackary that kept me going. Through it all it was him. Hearing her say those words, made a single tear run down my face. I lifted my hand and touched it. Always it was him that could make me cry. “If you can, tell him I love him,” I said and cut the connection.

  Chapter 18

  Charlotte

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lcOxhH8N3Bo

  Time passed and I stared at the silent intercom. God knows how long I stood there leaning against the wall.

  My chest seemed eerily clogged as I went over the details of the call. At first it was to ensure I had not in any way stepped out of line, but as I ran over his responses again and again, my cognizance of the words began to fade and I recognized only the intense and relentless desire to be close to him. To hold him. Touch him. Comfort him.

  I looked out towards his window. It was lighted, but the curtains were drawn shut. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine the man in the photo with half his face gouged out, but I couldn’t.

  What had given him the impression Zackary was afraid of him?

  Especially when Zackary did not behave as if he was. He wouldn’t have drawn him, and definitely not with them holding hands. I frowned when I remembered that Zackary did mention his father had made him cry. Were his scars really that awful? Not knowing felt like it would suffocate me. I nearly jumped out of my skin when the knock came on the door.

  Shit.

  I ran to open the door for Barnaby. He was dressed in the way he always was. Not a hair out of place.

  “Just a minute, please,” I said and ran back in.

  He did not come in, but waited politely outside while I found my spare USB stick and quickly copied the photos onto it.

  “There you go,” I said, placing it on the little silver plate he held out. It was like a scene from a different century and it made me smile.

  “Goodnight, Miss. Conrad,” he said with a nod. Then he was gone, his footsteps steady and silent, until he was swallowed by the shadows in the corridor.

  I closed the door and got ready for bed. Crawling into bed I sought sleep, but it wouldn’t come.

  “Insomnia …

  He said it plagued him. All I usually needed was ten minutes of idleness and my eyelids would become as heavy as wet blankets. But tonight, restless, swirling thoughts kept me wide awake. I punched the pillow and lay on my stomach. Nope. I turned back and stared at the ceiling. I wondered if he was in bed. I turned on my side and waited for sleep in that position. That didn’t work either. I got out of bed and padded over to the window.

  His light was still burning.

  I sighed and went back to bed. Switching on the bedside lamp I tried to read, but I was too distracted to concentrate. I made my way back to the window. Now I was angry with myself. This was completely stupid and I was behaving like a complete idiot. If my mother knew what I was doing she would be disgusted. God, my father would be turning in his grave if he could see me now.

  “He’s a married man. Stop lusting after him,” I said aloud.

  He’s married only in name, a voice in my head corrected.

  “Well, he’s still married.”

  He’s unhappy. Horribly unhappy. She doesn’t deserve him.

  I slumped on the bed. The craving to go to him was so strong it shocked me. I had never been one to be addicted to anything. I could take or leave chocolate. I tried smoking once and hated it. I went to a club and was given an ecstasy tablet and while I really enjoyed the feeling of being high I never again wanted to have it after I found out that it kills brain cells. But this man was like a drug I had no resistance against. I didn’t know why he had such a strong pull over me. It was like he was a giant magnet pulling me to him. I buried my face in my hands.

  What the hell have I got myself into?

  Chapter 19

  Brett

  Barnaby was preceded by a quiet knock. He held out his silver plate with the USB stick on it as if it was the most precious thing in the world. He did not know it, but it was. I took it and thanked him. He wished me goodnight and was gone. The first thing I did was bring the stick to my nose. She had held this in her hands. There was no smell. I put it into my laptop and the photos jumped to life on my screen. My hands were shaking as I reached out to touch his face. He was laughing. His clothes were wet and full of dirt and he was laughing!

  My son was laughing.

  I hadn’t seen him laughing in a long time. I enlarged the photo and moved nearer.

  “Oh, Zackary, Zackary. My life, my heart. How I love you,” I whispered.

  I went through the photos. Sometimes I smiled, sometimes I laughed out loud, and then I came across the last one and I froze. Someone else had taken this one. A blonde woman was holding Zackary up in the air, as high as she could. I could see her muscles straining. He was laughing and so was she.

  They were both drenched. I could see the shape of her full breasts through her wet clothes. Her nipples were erect from the cold, but that was not what grabbed and refused to let go of my attention.

  I stared at her face in amazement.

  Charlotte was beautiful. Her blue eyes shone with warmth and intelligence. She was the kind of girl I would have loved to have met before the accident, before I talked myself into marrying Jillian.

  Chapter 20

  Charlotte

  The next morning, I walked down from the kitchen with Zackary to find the courtyard brimming with people. Upon inspection I realized that the playground had already been purchased and was being installed.

  I was amazed at the speed in which he had acted, even as I tried to ignore the prick in my chest that he hadn't called to inform me of it.

  Zackary slipped his hand into mine and tugged to get my attention. “What are they doing?”

  “They're building a playground for you," I answered.

  His eyes widened. “Like in the park.”

  I smiled. "Exactly. I think you will love it, and you'll have such a blast playing in there.”

&nb
sp; “Wow. Is all this just for me?”

  I nodded. “You're the luckiest boy in the world, do you know that?" I lowered myself down to his height.

  "You have your own personal playground, and a father who loves you so very much. He bought it all, you know? So the next time you see him, you tell him how much you appreciate them, alright?"

  He nodded in response and I ruffled his hair. He froze suddenly and jerked away. Taken aback by his response I stared at him as he carefully slicked his hair back.

  "But what about Mummy?" he asked.

  That was a great question. No doubt Mummy would be very unhappy with this new development that she had no say in. I smiled at Zackary. “I don’t see why Mummy won’t love it too, can you?” I grinned. “What’s not to love? It’s swings and slides and sandboxes.”

  I settled Zackary for breakfast and hurried up to my room. As I approached the intercom, I felt a frisson of anxiety, but I convinced myself that there was no need to be nervous. Perhaps he was no longer even at home. I heard Mrs. Blackmore say that the helicopter had come and taken him to London yesterday.

  I pressed the main button, and spoke. “Hello? Brett?"

  There was no response.

  “Brett," I called again, and already a sensation of longing was settling in the pit of my stomach. I so wanted to hear his voice again. I was just about to disconnect it when his voice came through. My heart jumped to my throat and I could feel my blood rushing in my ear. And this was just the sound of his voice. I had it real bad for this man.

  "Charlotte?"

  I cleared my throat. "Uh, I just wanted you to know Zackary loves his playground. Thank you for doing that. You make my work so much easier."

  “Not at all," he said. "The men will be gone by lunchtime so be sure to create some time for Zackary to use them after his lessons this afternoon."