In Love With Mr. Billionaire - Chapter 35: Chapter 35

I was in a much more cheerful mood by the time lunch was served. Margot had prepared another one of her exclusive, original delicacies for us. It was hard to think it was possible, but her dishes got better with every bite we savored.
Throughout our lunch I told Aaron stories of painting with my mother. I told him how we used to sneak all the stuff around the house, away from my father, and pull them out while he was away. I told him stories about how we used to sneak out of the house to visit art exhibitions and museums. The memories were precious to me, melancholic and some of them were funny. He didn't laugh at it though. Not even once. Not even a smile.
Just when I had started to feel he was getting bored of my rambling, he placed his hand over mine, looking me directly in the eye. "What was so bad about working on your hobbies that you had to sneak around?"
That was when I realized he had seen through the humor of sneaking out of the house like criminals and the excitement of getting to see more paintings. He had recognised the sadness of not being allowed to do the one thing that gave me and my mother solace. He had realized how painful it was to not be allowed to be the unfiltered self in our own house. He had seen the fear looming over our heads, screaming and warning, that we were going to get caught. And I saw the hatred he held for James grow in his eyes.
And for the first time, I wondered what would happen if I told him about the things that had happened on the occasions where James had caught us. The things he had done to my mother. The way he had treated me all my life.
That was a painful door to be opened.
"He didn't like it," I answered his question. He didn't like a lot of things.
Art.
My mom.
Me.
"Well," Aaron said, squeezing my hand. "That doesn't matter now, does it?"
I shook my head and smiled at him. It doesn't matter now at all.
Tobias returned from the main island by the time we finished our lunch. He had gone to fetch canvas papers and paints for me.
"This arrived for you, Mr Woodwords," he passed a white envelope to Aaron. Aaron took it and excused himself to the balcony to make a call.
I helped Tobias take the dish to the kitchen. Margot was there, cleaning the counter. I could smell the sweet, delicious aroma coming out of the oven.
"What is it?" I asked, taking a peek through the oven window.
"A pudding cake," Margot smiled at me, proud of her creation.
I tried to help her with the cleaning, but she simply pulled out a chair and pushed me in it. "You sit. I'll clean."
"You don't allow people in your territory?" I teased as she swiped the area clean.
"It's your territory, Mrs Woodwords. I hope you don't mind me trespassing," she smiled back at me and I laughed.
"Caroline please," I requested. No amount of request seemed to take away the formality of her addressing me. "You could easily be a high profile chef any time you want. Why do you still work here?"
Though Aaron had told me many of Margot's exclusive dishes were available in his restaurants, they were replicas learned and created by the top chefs there. Margot had taught them. The dishes were credited to her. But she had never made a public appearance. Never took a public claim, any more than her name as the original chef.
"Because Tobey and I wanted an ordinary life for us and our children," she told me. "We both were looking for stable jobs when Tobey and I were offered to look after this island. We accepted it without a second guess. It was the best decision of our lives, it changed everything for us. The first time Mr Woodwords came to this island with his friends for vacation, they loved my food so much that I was offered a job as the top chef in one of his restaurants. I always wanted a quiet life, and when I told him the same he offered me another arrangement. I could invent new dishes, share the recipe with the chefs in his restaurants, have it under my own name and still live a quiet life. Guess what I did?" Margot was beaming by the time she finished her story.
"You rejected being the top chef and decided to school them instead," I smiled at her.
Margot laughed, a cheerful, hearty laugh. "I get paid more than they do and I get to cook in peace on a private island. I could not have asked for more," she agreed.
I was smiling as I made my way to Aaron after the conversation with Margot. She was a delight to talk to. Before I had only been impressed by her cooking skills, but now I was projecting her love for cooking to my love for paint. There were a lot of doubts still in my head, screaming at me, scaring me. But talking to her gave me the confidence that I needed to try.
Aaron was standing near the window, looking out at the beach when I found him. He appeared to be lost in thoughts. I tiptoed to where he was, intending to catch him by surprise.
"I can see your reflection in the window," he said as he turned to look at me. His lips tried to hide his amusement, but his eyes gave it away.
Aaron smiled as he walked towards me. "This is for you," he said. He was holding the envelope that Tobey had got for him from the main island.
"What's this?" I asked.
"Open it."
I tore one edge of the envelope and frowned when I looked inside. The frown was soon turned into an audible gasp when I pulled out the contents of the envelope. Oh no!
Not knowing what to do with it, I simply stared at the golden credit card lying on the top of my palm. My name was engraved on it in block, gold letters. When I raised my head from staring at the gold card that looked too precious to be touched, Aaron was looking back at me. Unlike the shock that had left me speechless, he had voluntarily decided to stay silent and wait for my reaction.
"Why?" was all I could manage to ask.
"Why not?" he countered.
"This is outrageous, Aaron!" I complained.
"I knew it," he shook his head, a disappointed expression adorning his handsome features. It was insane how he could still look attractive while expressing his discontentment. "I knew you would make a big deal out of this. What's so hard about accepting a simple gift from me and saying a thank you in return? A smile would be enough for me. Why do I need a reason to buy gifts for my wife?"
My stance became defensive with that claim. He wanted me to accept a gold credit card with a smile on my face? This was not a simple gift as he said it to be. It was hundreds and thousands of dollars, maybe more. I shook my head not wanting to even think about the 'more'.
"Aaron, have you ever thought about the gifts you give me?" I asked but did not wait for his reply before continuing. "You bought me a Lamborghini because my father banned me from using his cars. You bought a pair of shoes worth 5700 euros because you saw me look at them, not to mention the dresses when we went shopping in Milan. Now you give me a credit card and expect me to accept it with a smile? I would have smiled if this was a..." I looked around myself for inspiration, "a flower! Or chocolates, or anything that was not this extravagant."
"Extravagant? It's just a credit card, Caroline." He mimicked my pose by folding his arms across his chest.
"Just a credit card?" I deepened my voice to mimic his in return. "What's the limit of this card?"
"It's from your new account and it's connected to mine so..." he shrugged at the end, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I sighed and gave the card back to him. "I don't need this."
"Just keep it, Caroline."
"I don't need it, Aaron. If I want something, I can ask you for it. I know you'll get it for me. I don't need this card. I don't need your money, it creates a rift between people. This is what destroys relationships. I didn't marry you for your money. I-"
"Hold on. Where did that thought come from?"
My hands were no longer wrapped around me, but were in the front. I fidgeted my fingers trying to push back the memories that threatened to come to the shore. Unable to look up at Aaron, I kept my eyes down.
This was what had destroyed whatever fragment of relationship my mother had still left with my father. He had chosen wealth and luxury over her, over me, over everything else. Aaron wasn't James. This credit card had nothing to do with my past, but I still could not accept it. Not when I knew this was what James and Lahaina were aiming for. I could not, would not, walk their path. I would not be like them.
Aaron tossed the credit card away and took my hand. I silently followed him as he made me sit on the edge of the bed. He knelt in front of me, his thumbs caressing the back of my palms until I looked up.
"Did Lahaina or Juliea say that to you? Or worse, James?" He did not wait for me to confirm and continued. "I don't know what happened to make you think like that, Caroline, but I never thought of you that way. I gave you this card so that you don't have to depend on me for your needs. If you like something, if you want something, go get it. You don't have to ask me for everything. And money doesn't destroy relations, people's greed does. People who become so short sighted that they are unable to see anything beyond. People like James."
He waited for me to say something. The sincerity in his emerald eyes screamed at me to talk to him.
"James and Lahaina always try to be around you, acting nice because they want to trap you and get a hand on your wealth. Would it not be the same if I start doing exactly that?" I asked him.
"Don't compare yourself with them. If it was the same then we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. You're not with me because of my wealth, Caroline. In fact, I believe that's one of the downsides for you. So they can never be like you. The only reason they try to push you down is because they can never become like you. They are the last people you should care about," Aaron took my hands to his lips, kissing both.
"Why are you scared of James?" he asked. When he looked at me this time, I saw the hatred for him overpower his affection for me.
I stared back at him, trying to find words to answer his question. There were a hundred reasons why I was terrified of my own father, every new reason worse than the earlier. And yet, I could not give him even one.
"Someday you're going to trust me enough to share all your worries, all your problems, all your past with me. Until then, I'll wait," Aaron said, leaning forward to kiss my forehead.
I blinked away the tears of gratitude that surfaced with his declaration. "I trust you," I told him.
"I know you do." Aaron stood up and grabbed the card from the table, stuffing it back in my hand. "Will you keep this with you if I promise that no problem between us would ever be big enough to not be solved by just talking it out like this?"
I looked at the card, then back at him. Gone was the assertiveness in his tone that had once been a part of him. 'I didn't ask' was what he had told me before our first date. The man in front of me was not only asking me to accept his gift, but was assuring me—in the softest tone—that nothing was ever going to break us down.
It was at that moment I figured that the gifts that I believed to be extravagant for me were only a normal part of his life. He had done so much to fit into my small world and I knew I was going to do my best to fit into his.
I gave him a nod and closed my fingers around the card. "Thank you."
"Finally!" He chuckled.
"You're going to spoil me," I shook my head as I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my head on his chest.
"That's the plan, love," he kissed the top of my head, his hands wrapping around me to snuggle me closer.
Later that evening, we walked out of the villa to the beach where Aaron set up the canvas on the sand. As I took out the paints and brushes to arrange them on the side table, I felt the nervousness crawl back in me. When Aaron sat back on the beach chair to watch me paint, I had to take several deep breaths to calm my racing heart.
It doesn't have to be extraordinary, I told myself. Getting to hold a brush and coloring the canvas with every stroke would be enough for now. It doesn't matter that Aaron was watching me. He was going to be disappointed when my skills won't be par to his expectations. But it was all fine as long as I was getting to do this.
I closed my eyes and thought back to the countless hours I have spent with my mom teaching me how to think like a true artist. She used to say that it was not the paint or the skill to color a canvas that made a person an artist. It was the ability of channeling their raw emotions, their feelings, their view of the world and expressing in the form they know best. For her it had been a still image.
She used to ask me to close my eyes and think, and feel, and let the emotion overpower every bit of rationality. Diving into the madness was the only way to do it.
A painting was nothing more than random colors on a piece of paper at the first glance to someone and yet, the glance should turn into a long stare, and the stare should crave to find the meaning behind the strokes. The still visual image was going to have an unsaid story behind it. It was going to have an unheard tune around it. No one might ever know the story, no one might ever find out the song, but it wouldn't matter because everyone who looked at it was going to interpret it differently. They were going to create their own story or song while watching it. They might miss the intricate detail at first, they might never find those details ever, but the artist should know that it was the little things that made the full picture worth a second glance. Worth something to be inspired from.
When I opened my eyes, I instantly knew what I wanted to paint. I picked up the brush and made the first stroke, my heart filling with the joy of the act. It took me several tries to get in flow, but once I did there was no stopping.
After a long time, I wasn't sure how long, I stepped back. The brush had been abandoned after the first few minutes and my hands were covered in paint by the time I finished. My vision was blurry, I was crying throughout and as I stared at the canvas, I could not hold back the overflowing tears.
Aaron's hand came to wrap around my waist as he pulled me back. He kissed my shoulder and neck, trying to soothe me.
"Who is she?" he asked, his head resting on my shoulder as he hugged me tightly.
The woman on the canvas was looking back at us with a happy smile on her face. The kind of smile she used to have before James had destroyed her life and crushed her soul.
"Mom," I whispered.
"She will be very proud of you, Caroline," Aaron said as I leaned back into him.
My eyes refused to move away from the canvas. She was smiling. She looked happy. It wasn't real, but for now, it was enough.