It was the first time he’d been anywhere other than to work since she’d dropped out of his life.
‘Is Charlotte here?’ his mother asked.
‘She’s around somewhere,’ he said, his heart clenching as it did every time her name was mentioned. Her name had been mentioned a lot in his office, especially by Ava, who seemed to have developed some kind of girl crush on her. Raul found this completely understandable.
‘So this thing is for her charity?’
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
It was at this moment that they were called into the main restaurant where the first part of the proceedings, the meal, would begin.
Turning away, he followed the crowd to the large board displaying the table plan. As was proper, he’d been placed at the top table with the captain, his parents, sister, and... Where was Charley?
Scanning the other tables, he finally found her name at a door near the entrance, as far from his table as it was possible to get.
He caught Ava’s eye and beckoned her over. ‘Why has my wife been placed down there?’ he demanded to know.
‘She’s sitting with the children and their families—she thought it best for them to be by the door so if any of them get upset they can take them out and calm them down. She’s fabulous, isn’t she?’ she added reverentially.
Seven children, the same ones who had gone to La Tomatina, plus a couple of others, had been selected to attend with their families. Raul would have had all the children there but for the majority of them it wasn’t possible. Rather than being a night they could enjoy, the unfamiliarity and break from routine would have distressed them too much. All their families had been invited, though, as had all the Poco Rio staff and their partners.
He was planning on getting every euro he could from the other guests but for the children, their families and the staff, the night was on him.
He spotted little Karin, the beautiful white-blonde-haired girl who had such an attachment to Charley, and a tall boy in a wheelchair whose name escaped him...
And then he saw her.
She was walking in his direction, deep in conversation with another child’s mother.
She must have felt his eyes upon her for she paused and lifted her gaze to meet his.
His chest clenched.
Beautiful. She was beautiful. Glowing.
She was wearing a royal-blue lace dress that fell to mid-thigh and displayed her gorgeous curves, her now even lighter blonde hair loose around her shoulders. She wore black heels, which made her fabulous legs appear even longer.
Even with the distance between them he could see the animation in her eyes.
A tall man he recognised—possibly a famous American singer—stepped in front of her and the contact was broken.
Everyone took their seats.
Wine was poured and the evening began.
Course after course was brought out to them by an army of attentive waiting staff, laughter filling the room, overshadowing the piano player in the corner.
Through it all, through all the conversations he had with the others at his table, Raul’s eyes didn’t stray far from his wife.
Her table of twelve looked as if they were enjoying themselves immensely, Charley chatting away happily as she ate her food. Every so often she would look over to him and catch his eye and he would feel that pull that had always been there between them, right from the very start. The pull he knew deep down in his soul would never leave him.
He gazed at the children on her table. To her left was the boy in the wheelchair, being fed by his father.
A wave of sadness washed through him to think that boy would never be able to feed himself or do anything for himself. With the sadness came a tiny flicker of pride that he was doing something to make that boy’s life a little brighter.
Then his eyes flittered to his father, sitting opposite him in his own wheelchair, being fed by Marta, locked in his own version of hell.
For the first time he felt a wave of compassion for him.
His father had been a hard man. He’d been cruel and demanding of his only son. But no one, not even Eduardo Cazorla, deserved this. And neither did his mother, who could easily have left him in that plush care facility but instead had turned their home and life upside down so he could remain part of the family.
Charley would do the same, he knew. Forget about keeping up appearances, which he knew had played a part in his mother’s decision; Charley would never abandon someone she loved. Not unless she had to—or felt she had to.
While all these thoughts were filtering through his mind, the empty dessert dishes were being cleared away and from the corner of his eye he saw Charley head to the corner of the room where a microphone stand and booth had been set up.
After fiddling with the microphone for a few moments, she tapped it, the thuds of her finger reverberating through the packed room.
‘Can everyone hear me?’ she asked in Spanish.
Cheers rang round the room.
‘Okay, then.’ She cleared her throat. When she next spoke, her voice was clear, fluent and full of warmth. ‘Before I start the auction, I would just like to say, on behalf of all the children, their families and the staff of Poco Rio, the most enormous thank you to each and every one of you for being here tonight and for spending your hard-earned money on our centre. I promise you, every cent will be spent wisely.’
Even more raucous cheers carried around the room. She stood there beaming, waiting for quiet. ‘I would like to extend especial thanks to the wonderful man who made this night happen.’
Suddenly her eyes were on him.
Prickles ran up his spine.
Her smile faded a little but the warmth in her voice grew. ‘If it wasn’t for Raul, we wouldn’t be here and nor would Poco Rio. Please, everyone, raise your glasses. To Raul.’
The word, ‘Raul,’ echoed around the room, everyone staring at him and drinking to him.
He wanted to smile and accept the toast with good grace but he couldn’t do it. It was all wrong. They were toasting the wrong person.
Before he could get to his feet, Charley had started talking again and the auction was up and running.
* * *
Once the auction was over, Charley disappeared. He was about to seek her out—he knew she couldn’t go far, not with the ship being in the middle of the Mediterranean—when his mother rose and took hold of his father’s wheelchair.
‘Can’t you ask your mum?’ Charley had said. He’d dismissed her suggestion out of hand.
But, since he’d driven her out of his life the second time, he’d had time to reflect and suddenly the conversation became imperative.
He followed his parents through to one of the lounges, where he helped his mother settle his father in a quiet corner.
Raul waited until drinks had been served to them and they were all comfortable before talking.
‘Why did you just let me walk away from the family business?’ he asked, addressing his mother. His father’s reaction hadn’t been any surprise but it had always played on his mind that his mother’s reaction had been negligible.
A look of surprise crossed her Spanish features. ‘Could I have stopped you?’
‘No.’
‘There is your answer.’
He stared at her. ‘You didn’t even try.’
‘But I knew you would be okay whatever you did.’
‘How?’
‘Because you are just like your grandfather, Nestor.’
‘I am?’ Nestor had created the Cazorla empire but his name was one seldom mentioned in the privacy of the Cazorla home.
‘Of course.’ She nodded at her husband, who was gazing at the pair of them, his eyes flashing as if he was desperate to join in with the c
onversation, then sighed. ‘Your father never got on with Nestor any more than he got on with you.’
‘But why?’ Now he addressed his father directly. ‘I always felt as if I were a huge disappointment to you. There were times when I felt as if you hated me and wished I’d never been born. Nothing I did was ever good enough and I need to know why.’
A grunting sound came from his father’s throat. His mother patted his knee with a manicured hand, and smiled at Raul. ‘I thought you would have worked it out by now; you’re an intelligent man. Too intelligent, just like Nestor. He will hate me for saying this but your father had to work hard for what came naturally to you. He struggled with the business. He knew there would come a time when you took over and it would show up the failures he’d made. You intimidated him.’
Now there was a flash of pain in his father’s eyes. Suddenly Raul wished he’d chosen to have this conversation out of his earshot. His father couldn’t defend himself.
‘I intimidated him? He treated me like dirt.’ He shook his head and looked at his mother. ‘And you allowed it to happen.’
‘Allowed what to happen? For your father to correct you, as was his right as your father?’
At least she wasn’t pretending not to understand.
‘My own father was far harder on me than Eduardo ever was with you.’ She lifted the sleeve of her arm and showed him the old silvery scar that ran along her biceps. ‘My father did this to me in a drunken rage when I was seven. For all his faults as a father, Eduardo never once lifted his finger to you.’
He felt as if he’d been punched. She’d always shrugged it off as a childhood accident. ‘I never knew.’
‘It was a long time ago when such things weren’t spoken of, especially amongst people like my family. Personal problems were kept behind closed doors. We both suffered at the hands of our parents and we tried not to repeat that with you and Marta.’
He laughed without any trace of humour.
‘You think your father was hard on you?’ his mother said, a sharpness in her voice. ‘Nestor would beat him when he failed at anything or disappointed him in any way. I accept we didn’t always get it right with you but it’s those mistakes you will try to avoid when you have your own children. But know, you will make mistakes. We all do.’
The irony almost made him laugh again.
His own children? The only person he wanted to have children with was Charley, and he’d damaged her. Just as his father had damaged him.
Looking back at his father, he could see a whole heap of emotion playing in his eyes and suddenly he knew exactly what the expression meant.
His father wanted to apologise.
A part of him wanted to turn around and walk away and leave the unsaid apology unacknowledged.
Instead, he leant over and covered his father’s limp hand and squeezed, then pressed his lips to his cool cheek.
Life had punished his father enough. What kind of man was he to condemn him for eternity when his own actions had driven away the woman he loved?
For the first time he had an understanding of what his own parents had lived through and, while it was too soon to speak of forgiveness, he knew the road to healing—for all of them—had begun.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LOT NUMBER FIFTEEN, a week’s holiday on Aliana Island, donated by Pascha and Emily Plushenko, went for a hundred thousand euros—but that was by no means the highest-selling lot of the evening. That honour went to lot number twenty-one, a portrait by the artist Grace Mastrangelo, which sold for a quarter of a million. Those of an artistic bent nodded wisely and said the winning bidder had got themselves a bargain.
The numbers were enough to make Charley dizzy. In one evening, they had raised over a million euros, and that was without adding the ticket sales. Looking at the dazed faces of Seve and the other Poco Rio staff, she could tell they were having trouble processing the figures too.
Now the auction was over and everyone was free to do as they pleased, be it head to the nightclub to dance or go to the casino to gamble or to make their way to the theatre where a top musical was being shown with the original cast...or they could head outside as she had done and stand at the railings looking out at Barcelona in the distance, a mountainous city illuminated magically under the black sky. She squinted, trying to remember where on the shoreline their old home had been. When she looked up, a million stars twinkled down at her.
She inhaled the salty air and tried to capture her thoughts. What she wanted, more than anything, was to find Raul and talk to him. She’d planned it all out, everything she wanted to say, but the look on his face after she’d raised the toast to him had stopped her in her tracks. He’d looked furious.
Doubt and her old friend fear had crept back in.
What if he rejected her? What if...?
What ifs didn’t matter. She would speak to him before the night was out. She had to.
‘May I join you?’
She turned her head with a jolt, her heart immediately racing off at a canter to find him standing there behind her, dazzling in his black tuxedo, carrying two glasses of champagne.
He held one out to her. ‘I thought you might be thirsty after all that talking,’ he said drily.
‘Thank you.’ As she took it from him her fingers brushed against his and her stomach somersaulted.
He stood level with her, his body almost touching hers, and gazed out at the same view.
‘You were wrong, you know,’ he said.
‘About what?’
‘That speech you made, toasting me. I didn’t deserve that. You did.’
‘No...’
‘Yes. Without you none of it would have happened. This was your vision, your passion. All I did was put your hard work into motion.’
‘But without you doing that it wouldn’t have happened.’
‘Without you doing all the hard stuff at the beginning there wouldn’t have been anything for me to do.’
‘We can argue over who should receive the praise all night,’ she said softly. ‘How about we accept it needed both of us to make it happen?’
A faint smile crossed his face and he raised his champagne flute. ‘To teamwork.’
‘Teamwork,’ she echoed, chinking her flute to his. She didn’t drink any of it.
‘You look beautiful.’
‘Thank you.’ She made her voice sound cheerful. ‘I couldn’t go back to dressing up every day but it’s nice to do it for special occasions.’
‘You always look beautiful, no matter what you wear.’
A lump formed in her throat.
‘I want you to know I’ve signed the deeds for Poco Rio over to you.’
‘But the renovations aren’t complete yet.’
He dropped his head with a sigh. ‘I should never have done what I did. It was a nasty stunt that I pulled and one I am deeply ashamed of. I just hope you can one day find it in your heart to forgive me.’
‘You had your reasons,’ she murmured, her head swimming.
‘No, I didn’t—not any reason that makes sense now I think back on them.’ He breathed heavily. ‘All it needs is your signature to make it official. You can either drop by the office to sign it or I can arrange for it to be delivered to you, whatever makes your life easier.’
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
He shrugged, turning his face back out to the illuminated city in the distance. ‘I’ve been thinking. With the amount of money raised tonight, there’s more than enough to fund another Poco Rio. How would you feel about scouting out suitable premises in Barcelona for me?’
‘For you?’ she asked, confused at the turn of direction.
‘I’ll pay for the building and any renovations that need doing. The funds raised can pay towards staffing and day-to-day running
costs.’ He must have caught her dumb silence. ‘I’m happy to pay outright for it all, staff costs, upkeep, everything. The money raised tonight has been earmarked for the centre and it’s only right it be spent on it, but it can also be used to help other children in the same position. If we keep fundraising we can raise more awareness of what these children are living with and help even more of them.’
‘And you want me to help you?’
‘I want you to run it all for me. I’ll pay you a salary—’
‘I don’t want a salary.’
‘I know but I’ll pay it anyway. That’s if you choose to accept my offer.’
She opened her mouth, not sure what to say, but he spoke forcefully before she could make a sound.
‘Don’t make a decision now. Think it over. Let me know when you come to a decision.’
If Charley had felt dazed before, that was nothing to how she felt at that precise moment.
He really did trust her. He truly did believe in her.
‘I wish I could turn the clock back.’
Her heart skipped.
Sadness had spread over his handsome features. ‘It’s that bubble we spoke of before—I’m used to living in it but I never thought of how it would be for someone like you, because you’re right, it is a different world from the one you knew. I just thought you would adapt and fit in, not thinking that I needed to adapt too. It put—I put—so much pressure on you it’s no wonder the weight of it was too much. I see you now, living back outside the bubble just as you did when we were apart for those two years, thriving.’
Charley stayed silent, letting him say what was on his mind.
‘I know my standards are high. Too high,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘I spent my whole life having every fault picked over by my father. I was always striving for perfection in the hope of making him proud and getting one word—that’s all I wanted, one word—of praise from him.’
‘Being less than perfect doesn’t diminish you,’ she said. ‘It just makes you human.’
‘I know. Being with you has taught me that.’ He bent his head and forked his fingers through his hair. ‘That’s what I hate the most about myself. I swore I would never be like him but in my pathetic attempt to punish you for not wanting my child and having the nerve to leave me, I became the very thing I despise the most. Because you were right—that marriage was no place to raise a child. Can you ever forgive me?’
The Perfect Cazorla Wife Page 16
