She’d laughed it off but under the bonhomie she’d turned into a wreck. His words had terrified her.
If he’d loved her so much then why had he given up on her so easily? Two years of silence had said it all.
He’d made her into the perfect Cazorla wife but as soon as she’d denied him what he wanted, a child, he’d given up on her.
Just as her father only wanted her when he needed money.
Charley was disposable.
Nothing similar had been mentioned in the subsequent weeks but those words had stayed with her.
Then he’d gone off to Brazil, the land of beautiful women, leaving her alone for the first time since they’d got back together—got back together temporarily, she reminded herself—and found herself alone in his huge bed with a brain that refused to switch off.
They were only temporary, her brain had screamed. In less than a couple of months they would head their separate ways.
Oh, why had he said it? Why had he mentioned the L word?
He hadn’t said he loved her now. Just that he’d loved her then.
But he didn’t love you then. If he had he would never have tried to change you.
In defiance, she’d rolled over to the middle of the bed.
Come the morning and after a few hours of broken sleep, she’d been back on her own side with his pillow in her arms. She’d had to stop those same arms throwing themselves around him when he’d arrived at Poco Rio late that afternoon, as they were clearing up after a long day. She’d wanted to hug him even harder when he’d taken her briefly to the new centre so she could see how all the renovations were going.
‘Oh, stop pretending to be nice about it,’ she snapped now, suddenly and unbelievably on the brink of tears. ‘We both know my dad couldn’t give a stuff about me.’
To her horror, she only noticed her hands were shaking when Raul took one of them in his own.
‘Do you know my dad’s the only person not happy that we’re back together?’ she said, speaking the words before she could call them back. ‘He’ll want to meet up when he knows you’re out of the picture. Either then or if he runs out of money before our time’s up.’
He didn’t answer, his blue eyes holding hers, sympathy and not a little anger in them.
Raul had got the measure of her dad right from the start.
She jerked her hand out of his grasp, picked up her refilled glass and held it aloft. ‘Happy birthday to me, eh?’
‘Charlotte...’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ she dismissed, putting her glass back down. ‘This isn’t the first of my birthdays he’s missed and I’m sure it won’t be the last.’
Twenty-six birthdays and her dad had only made two of them.
‘Charlotte,’ he repeated, speaking quietly, ‘this isn’t your fault.’
She attempted a smile, now really scared that she would cry. ‘I know.’
At least, it wasn’t her fault she’d been born a woman. She’d always known that if she’d been born with male genitals her father would have wanted to spend more time with her, just as he did with her half-brothers. Deep down she’d always known it, just never acknowledged the painful truth.
She was a mere woman. Disposable.
A waitress arrived at their table with their first course.
Charley stabbed a piece of chorizo with her fork. Before she could pop it in her mouth, more unbidden words spilled out. ‘I’ve never mattered to him. I look back on my childhood and all I can clearly remember is the waiting. I used to get so excited when I knew he was coming over. Half the time he’d be late—at the very least an hour—the other half he wouldn’t turn up at all. When he did bother, he’d always have a great big present for me that cost the earth, then tell my mum he didn’t have the money to buy me a new pair of school shoes.’
She took a breath and another sip of wine, wondering why she was rehashing a tale Raul was already familiar with. But there was one story she’d never shared...
‘I have never spent a single Christmas with him,’ she said, keeping her eyes on her glass of wine, ‘and I only got invited to celebrate one of his birthdays—his fortieth. I was about nine, I think, and Mum and I went together. I remember being really excited about meeting my two half-brothers. Dad had told me all about them. I knew he lived close to them and saw them a lot.’
Now she dared look at Raul. ‘They didn’t know who I was.’
‘I suppose that’s understandable, seeing as they’d never met you.’
‘No—I mean they didn’t know of me. My dad had never told them they had a sister.’
Raul tried to keep his features composed, not to let Charley see the anger her words were provoking in him.
He had little doubt that if her father should walk into the restaurant at that moment he would connect his fist to his face with all the force in his possession. How that man had the nerve to call himself a father...
How Charley had managed to grow up into the warm, compassionate woman she was today stumped him too.
‘Can we go home?’ she asked. ‘I’ve got a headache.’
She did look pale.
He called for the bill and discreetly told the waitress to cancel the cake waiting in the kitchen that was to have been brought out when their meal had finished. Getting to his feet, he felt in his pocket for the square box. He would give Charley her present when they got home, after a relaxing massage and a bottle of champagne. He would spoil her rotten and make this a birthday to remember for all the right reasons.
But first he had to get them home.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE STREETS SURROUNDING the restaurant were gridlocked, the pavements packed with people spilling out of the nearby theatre, Teatro Olympia.
Wedging them comfortably in the stream of the traffic, Raul put the car in neutral and rested his head back.
His chest filled to see Charley gaze out of the passenger window, chewing her little finger, her silent pain pulling at him, making him want to hold her tight and stroke all the heartache away.
‘How much money have you given him over the past few years?’ he asked quietly.
She raised a shoulder but didn’t look at him. ‘I didn’t keep track. A quarter of a million in all, I think.’
‘On top of the house?’
A sharp nod.
He sighed, feeling even more strongly for her.
A cacophony of beeping cars broke through the silence and, with a start, he realised they were beeping at him.
He put the car into gear and pressed gently on the accelerator. ‘What did you do with the rest of the money?’
‘What do you think I did with it?’ she asked, turning her head to look at him, a curious expression on her face.
‘I don’t know.’ Every single one of his assumptions about her had been wrong, that much he did know. ‘I don’t think you spent it all on yourself.’
‘I bought some houses.’
‘You went into property?’
She let out a muted bark of laughter. ‘No. I didn’t go into property. I bought houses—one for my mum...’
‘I bought your mum a house,’ he interjected. Unlike Charley’s father, who he wouldn’t spit on if he were on fire, her mum he did like and he’d been happy to buy her a decent place to live. He’d bought it as a Christmas present for her, keeping it a surprise from both her and Charley.
He knew Charley’s mood would be lighter if her mum could have been here to celebrate her birthday too, but Charley’s grandmother had had a hip replacement the week before and Paula was staying with her.
‘That was in England. I bought her a holiday home here in Valencia so she could visit whenever she wanted and have a place to stay; my home is a little cramped for two. Also,’ she added as an afterthou
ght, ‘I thought it unfair my dad was getting a Spanish home when she couldn’t have the same.’
He grinned, liking her way of thinking.
‘Who else did you buy houses for?’
‘My half-brothers and—’
‘Why on earth did you buy them homes?’ Raul had never met her half-brothers and had no wish to. Like her father, they only bothered with her when they wanted some money. ‘Let me make an educated guess—your dad told them we’d separated and that you had some money in your own right so they took the opportunity to get in touch and played you with a good sob story?’
‘Wrong.’ She scowled at him. ‘I bought them because I wanted to. They might keep their distance but they’re the only siblings I’ve got.’
‘Did you buy them cars too?’
She nodded.
‘Who else?’ he asked, with a sigh. There was no point in arguing about the wrongs or rights of it. There was truth in the saying that blood was thicker than water. Charley had been right in her criticisms of his own family but that hadn’t stopped them needling him like barbs in his skin.
‘My grandparents and my auntie Beverley.’
‘Is that it?’
‘Isn’t that enough?’
She wasn’t being facetious. Her question was genuine.
‘Enough? Charlotte, that money was for you.’
‘And I did spend some of it on me. I wasn’t completely selfless, you know. I bought myself my villa and a car, and until recently I’ve been taking monthly visits to the hairdresser. They all needed homes of their own far more than I needed another exotic holiday.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to buy your family houses?’
‘I couldn’t have asked you to do that,’ she said, clearly horrified at the idea.
‘Why not? We were married.’ He didn’t know what was worse: knowing he’d thought the worst about her or learning that she hadn’t felt secure enough in their marriage to think she could ask him for anything.
He’d thought he’d given her everything she’d wanted and needed.
Suddenly it hit him with force, like a punch to his solar plexus. It had all been a lie.
‘You never opened up to me at all, did you?’
She must have caught something in his tone because her eyes became wary. ‘What do you mean?’
‘In the whole of our marriage you never trusted me, did you?’
‘I did trust you. I told you before I knew you wouldn’t cheat on me...’
‘That is not trust!’ A fraction too late, he saw the flashing brake lights of the car in front and slammed his foot down, missing the car in front by inches. ‘You trusted me not to cheat but you didn’t trust me with what was going on in your head.’ He took in a breath. ‘I loved you but you were never honest about anything, were you? You started all those businesses without having any real interest in any of them but didn’t have the guts to tell me. If you’d had an ounce of the passion for them that you have for the centre, they would have succeeded.’
He took in her red checked silk top, black crepe trousers and short black heels, a classy combination that, with her blonde hair twisted in a simple knot, looked stunning on her but was markedly different from the clothes she used to wear.
‘You even wear different clothes.’ He shook his head and breathed deeply, struggling to comprehend.
Dios. Even her clothing had been a lie.
‘What did I do that was so bad you couldn’t trust me with the truth about yourself or your feelings? Did I ever mistreat you in any way?’
‘Of course you never mistreated me...’
‘Then what? I loved you.’
Her eyes became pincers. ‘If you loved me as much as you say you did, then why did you try to change me?’
‘I didn’t try to change you.’
‘Well, that’s what it felt like,’ she said, a tremor carrying in her voice. She rubbed her forehead. ‘Before we’d even exchanged our vows you’d thrown tutors at me to teach me elocution and all that other stuff. You got your sister to take me shopping to all the best places, you hired me my own personal trainer and dietician... The only reason you went to all that effort was because I wasn’t good enough for you and your perfect family as I was.’
‘For the last time, I was trying to help you fit in.’
‘And why was that? It was because I didn’t fit in.’
He slammed his fist on the steering wheel. ‘I was trying to protect you!’
Astonishment crossed her features. ‘Protect me from what?’
‘From my world and the people who live in it. I didn’t want you in social situations where you felt intimidated or unable to hold your own.’
Silence rang out between them, the only sound their ragged breaths and the pounding in his head.
‘From now on, no more lies,’ he said when he felt more in control of himself.
‘They weren’t deliberate lies,’ she whispered. ‘I was just so desperate to fit in and make you proud. I was terrified you would meet someone more suitable and drop me like a hot rock.’
‘That would never have happened. When I married you it was for ever, not until someone better came along.’
‘But I didn’t believe it—how could I when I spent my whole life believing I was so insignificant my own father only wanted to see me when he had nothing better to do? That I wasn’t good enough to even deserve a mention to his other family?’ She blew air out of her mouth and rested her head back to gaze at the roof of the car. ‘How can you understand what that feels like when everything you touch turns into gold?’
He swallowed, her words like claws gripping at his skin.
Not understand how she’d felt? The boy who’d grown up having every tiny mistake and digression magnified under his father’s totalitarian disapproval?
‘I know what it looks like on the surface but my life hasn’t been totally charmed. I know what it’s like to feel useless and inferior.’
‘When have you ever felt inferior?’ she asked, twisting to face him, her eyes wide.
‘My father...’ He cut his words off and attempted to gather his thoughts. If he was demanding honesty from her, then it was only right he give it in return, however hard it was to get the words out. Without honesty, they had no future. ‘I could never please him. Nothing I did was ever good enough.’
Her brows drew together.
‘He was a cold, cruel man—a hard taskmaster. He had exacting standards he expected me to live up to and if I failed in any aspect then he made his displeasure known. I don’t remember doing anything that pleased him or raised a smile to his face. If he felt any affection for me he didn’t show it, whereas Marta could do no wrong. He doted on her.’
‘Is that because she’s a woman?’
‘Probably,’ he admitted with a sigh. ‘Just as your father treated you differently to your brothers. I struggled for a long time to live with the double standards and his disapproval of me.’
‘And now?’
He shrugged, clenching his teeth together. ‘And now he’s infirm. For years I wanted to take him aside and demand answers about his treatment of me but now it’s too late and I will never know.’
‘Can’t you ask your mum?’
‘There isn’t any point,’ he dismissed. ‘My mother always turned a blind eye to it. She turns a blind eye to anything that can be construed as negative. When I left home and set up on my own, her only concern was that I wasn’t going to do anything that would bring shame on the Cazorla name.’
‘That’s a huge assumption you’re making about her,’ Charley said softly. ‘She might surprise you.’
‘We’ll see,’ he said, non-committal. ‘The reason I’ve shared this with you is because if we’re going to have any kind of lasting future, we need
to always be honest with each other. If you’d been honest about your feelings before, I would have understood, but I’m not a mind-reader.’
A wary, almost frightened expression came into her eyes. ‘What do you mean about having a “lasting future”?’
‘If we talk and keep the lines of communication open, then these problems won’t occur again.’
‘You make it sound like we’re getting back together properly.’
‘Would that be such a bad thing?’ he asked in a much calmer tone than he felt. Ever since La Tomatina he’d experienced an awful sickening in the pit of his stomach whenever he thought of the day they would say goodbye for good. Those couple of days away in Brazil, when he’d called her a dozen times just to hear her voice, had convinced him they had what it took to make a new start. He’d missed her so badly he’d been on the verge of jumping into his jet the first night and demanding to be flown home.
Being with Charley felt very different this time too. Easier somehow. Stripped back.
‘Get back together?’ she asked in a tiny voice.
‘We’ve proven these past few months how good we can be together with a little compromise and sacrifice on each side. We understand each other a lot better too—you must feel that.’
‘And would I still be expected to have a baby?’
He could hear the edge in her voice but couldn’t place it.
‘Cariño, you will make a wonderful mother.’ And she would. Whatever motherhood threw at her, she would handle it magnificently.
‘Are you mad?’
His head reared back at the vehemence of her words.
‘I can’t believe you’re talking like this.’ The colour had drained from her face to leave her ashen.
A bang on his window brought them both up short.
He turned to find a man there, gesticulating and hollering abuse at him, and saw that traffic was moving again, had most likely been moving for a good few minutes, all bar the cars stuck behind them.
Raising a hand in apology, he was about to put the car back in gear when Charley opened her door.
The Perfect Cazorla Wife Page 14
