Page 81 of The Reluctant Billionaire

Until it was too late.

I stare at him, shocked. ‘What do you mean, they didn’t share data?’ I cry. ‘That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.’

Dad shrugs. ‘Patient confidentiality. The NHS had to prioritise that, and it didn’t have a way to make data available between individual trusts without risking a data breach. Until a young, precociously intelligent, and very, very angry young man decided to do something about it.’

‘Aide,’ I whisper.

I am shellshocked.

I had no idea there was such an emotive story behind Aide’s success. That the software, the massive company, he’s created was born out of anything other than the wish to scratch an intellectual itch.

‘Yep,’ Dad says. ‘He found a way to build data systems that were shareable while adhering to the strictest security standards. He found a way to have NHS trusts all over the country speak to each other, instantly, which is far trickier than it sounds, given the jumble of out-of-date, non-compatible systems our healthcare service uses. The name, Totum, meansallin Latin, of course.’

Of course it does. I’m a Classics graduate, and yet I haven’t thought about the meaning behind the name until now.All. Totality.Aide brought visibility, transparency, to our healthcare data, fuelled by his deep sense of injustice. Of frustration that anyone he knows should be left unprotected.

Or anyone at all, for that matter.

‘Most of its objectives are more prosaic, of course,’ Dad continues. ‘But that’s not to say they aren’t incredibly important. If you take a cancer patient being treated across various modalities and trusts, even, Totum’s functionality means every professional, oncologist or otherwise, can see all the clinical data and treatment history at a glance, no matter what hospital treated the patient. That may seem basic stuff, but I can assure you, in our dear, decrepit healthcare system, it’s not. And he’s sold the data globally. Most countries around the world have adopted Totum by now. It’s indisputably the market leader.’

‘He was so—what is the word—unassuming, that evening,’ Mamma muses. ‘But still very impressive. So impressive. And so handsome.’ She smiles fondly.

I’m still reeling at how deep Aide’s altruism runs, and how powerful a force for good this guy is, when Mamma asks with a devious grin and a shoulder shimmy, ‘So,tesoro, will you invite this very good-looking young man to Elle’s wedding?’

31

AIDE

I’ve put myself in Lotta’s work calendar.

The lunchtime slot.

It seemed appropriate given I plan to eat her.

Venus’ offices are, unsurprisingly, glossy and stylish and beautiful and expensive-looking.

Just like one of their founders.

It’s only been a few hours since we took our leave from each other, but I’m looking forward to seeing her in her working environment. The building’s lobby is white, sleek and flower-filled, with huge, muted canvases. White sofas flank low glass coffee tables on which rest big leather books. When I leaf through one, I realise they’re portfolios of Venus’ work, everything shot in black and white.

Fuck, these guys are good at what they do.

The pretty redhead behind the lacquered front desk blushes and smiles as she hands me a security pass and ushers me to the bank of lifts. I shoot her a grin that’s more apologetic than encouraging, because, more often than not, my looks tend to be a curse.

Sometimes they work in my favour, though.

Like on shitty building sites when glittering, captivating heiresses so far out of my league it’s not funny decide, for some unknown reason, that they like how I look wielding an electric drill.

Then I thank whoever’s up there for them. I might give a nod to my old man, too. He was the original black-haired, blue-eyed charmer with the gift of the gab and the roguish Dublin charm. I may have inherited his colouring, but the charm’s definitely gone astray somewhere.

No matter.

If Carlotta likes the way I look, and speak, and touch her, the way I can make her feel, then my cup is full.

I exit the lift and make my way across an open-plan floor of sleek desks, accompanied by a sleek young MBA-type. He doesn’t need to open his mouth to tell me he’s American—the white t-shirt peeking out from under his immaculate blue shirt gives the game away immediately.

The space is smaller than ours. At Totum, we went for a lateral layout in a huge repurposed warehouse in Kings Cross, whereas here at Venus they have several floors. But whereas our office is bright and friendly and screams creativity, the vibe here is more grownup. More sophisticated.

Carlotta’s standing in the doorway to what must be her office. I grin, because she’s a sight for sore fucking eyes. She’s in the same longish, floaty floral dress she put on this morning and some fuck-me heels that I’m a big fan of. The best thing about the outfit, though, is undoubtedly the tantalising row of buttons that run the whole way down the front of the dress. She’s got her arms crossed and bright red lips that instantly makes me want to wipe her lipstick off.

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