Consent (The Loan Shark Duet Book 2)

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Consent (The Loan Shark Duet Book 2) Page 21

by Charmaine Pauls


  With my bodyguards taking care of the shopping, I have time to go home and pack clothes for Valentina and Connor before stopping at a florist and jewelry store. Armed with a pair of diamond earrings, a chocolate bouquet, a humongous flower arrangement, and a giant stuffed crocodile, I drive to the clinic. Diamonds in my pocket, flowers under one arm, crocodile under the other, chocolates gripped in my hand, and an overnight bag swinging from the other, I walk through Valentina’s door.

  She’s propped up on the pillows in bed. I stop to take her in. Her long lashes fall over her cheek as she stares at her hands. Chocolate-and-wine-colored curls tumble over her shoulders, partially obscuring the soft curve of her breast under the hospital robe. The bronze glow is back on her cheeks, this morning’s paleness gone. The sight of her makes me weak. I must be turning into a big fucking crybaby, because I’m fighting back tears for the third time since yesterday. Just as I think she’s not going to look at me, her lashes lift, and her brown eyes meet mine. Rivers of sadness flow through their depths, leaving muddy traces I swear I can see all the way to her soul. Reluctant to start the unavoidable subject we need to discuss, I stall for time by placing the crocodile at the foot end of the bed. “For Connor.”

  A smile plucks at the corner of her lips. “You don’t think it’s too small?”

  I shrug, shifting the weight of the flowers. “I thought it would go with the jungle theme.”

  Her gaze moves to the white and blue lilies.

  “For you.” I put the flowers on the bureau against the wall. “They smell good.”

  “Thank you.”

  I leave the chocolates next to the flowers and unzip the bag. “I packed you and Connor some clothes.” I transfer the items to the closet. “If I forgot anything, just say, and I’ll bring whatever you need.” I finish by unpacking her toilet bag in the en-suite bathroom.

  When I return, I catch her big, questioning eyes on me. Unarmed, with nothing weighing down my arms, I’m exposed and vulnerable. I have no choice but to give her what she really deserves––the truth.

  My bad leg aches when I cross the floor and stop next to the bed. I can’t help myself from reaching out and cupping my woman’s cheek. For a heart-stopping moment, she presses into my palm, and then the heat of her skin is gone.

  I let go, my fingers trailing over her jawline and down her neck. “How do you feel?”

  Her lashes lower, half-moons obscuring her expression. “I’m good.”

  A wall breaks within me and emotions flood my composure. My voice trembles. “I’m sorry.” Flopping down on the chair next to the bed, I grab her hand and press her fingers to my lips. “I’m so fucking sorry.” For deceiving her, for the pain she suffered, for almost losing her to death. After Carly, I wouldn’t be able to cope with losing her or Connor, too.

  “Why?” Her breath catches on a sob. “Why did you do it?”

  The question is loaded. There are so many answers to that one, single question I don’t know where to start.

  “I know everything, Gabriel.”

  Not everything. And it will kill me to tell her. I nod and swallow, trying to find my voice. “I know you know, beautiful.”

  Tears make her eyes shine like gold nuggets in the clear water of a river. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her hand trembles in my hold. “Did you get a kick out of making me relay the whole, ugly affair? Why me, Gabriel? Did you need to finish what your father had started?”

  A wave of sickness rolls over me. “God, no. No, Valentina. I didn’t know it was him until I found the USB in my computer this morning. I’ve been chasing the men who did this to you since the moment you told me. You have to believe me. I swear to God, if they weren’t already dead, I would’ve killed them with my bare hands for what they did to you.” My tone drops to a whisper. “If I could, I would’ve made my father pay.”

  “How…?” Her voice breaks. It takes a moment before she can speak again. “How did Magda find the tape?”

  I stare at her for three full seconds. Longer. This is the part where she’ll hate me even more, if that’s possible. “Charlie.”

  “Charlie?”

  “Your father killed Barney for the tape. He gave it to Charlie to hide.”

  “Barney. He was with your father.” The color leaves her cheeks. “My father killed Barney? And Charlie remembered?” Her eyes grow large as understanding bleeds into them. “The hypnoses?”

  “Yes,” I say somberly. “That’s how Magda found out Charlie buried the tape in the graveyard, in the plot your father had bought for him.”

  Resolution marks the square set of her shoulders as she steels herself for what’s to come. “You better start from the beginning.”

  I tell her everything Magda said, leaving nothing out. I tell her my father was a sick bastard obsessed with an under-aged girl, and his obsession led to the destruction of not only her, but also my family. I tell her how the mafia paid and threatened Lambert Roos to call off the betrothal, and that I was supposed to take his place, ironically have taken his place. I tell her about Jerry, the trap Magda set for Charlie, and maybe the hardest part, that I was supposed to kill her, but that she already knew. She knew the nasty fact and still tried to build something with me. This is how big her heart is, but no heart can be big enough to process and forgive the depth of what I’m laying at her feet now.

  She hears me out to the very end, and when my words dry up, she asks, “Why did you trick me?”

  I rub her fingertips over my lips, back and forth, back and forth, pleading with my eyes for understanding as I gather my words.

  “It was the only way to save you.”

  “From Magda.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did she do it? Why show me the tape?”

  “Giving you the tape was her way of trying to drive you away. I don’t believe it was her intention to force you into early labor.”

  She stares at me for the longest time while silent tears streak her cheeks. Finally, she whispers, “What now, Gabriel?”

  There’s so much loss in her tone. The words sound broken coming from her lips. What now? How does one move on after something like this? How does she pick up the pieces of her life and build a new one? My heart aches for her, but my girl is strong. She’s loyal, determined, loving, and brave. She’ll make it.

  “Magda is dead. She put a gun to her head when I confronted her this morning.”

  Her complexion pales further. “No.”

  No longer able to keep my distance, I climb next to her onto the bed and pull her into my arms. The minute my body molds around hers, she snaps. Big, insufferable sobs shake her shoulders. I soothe her the only way I know, holding her close. I push Valentina’s head against my chest, willing her to purge her soul with bitter tears.

  Valentina’s cries must’ve alarmed a nurse who comes into the room and asks if we’re all right. Taking in Valentina’s state, she addresses me. “Post-natal blues. If it doesn’t go away within a couple of days, call her doctor.” She straightens the bed sheets and leaves without posing further questions.

  I take the box from my pocket and place it on Valentina’s lap. “I wanted to get you something memorable so you never forget how brave you were.” I kiss her lips. “Always remember that you fought and survived.”

  The words are charged. We both know what I really mean. She survived my family. If she can survive Gabriel Louw, she can survive anything.

  “Open it, please,” I say when she doesn’t reach for the box.

  After a second, she pulls the ribbon free. Painstakingly slow, she removes the wrapping paper and regards the golden logo on the velvet for what seems like ages before she lifts the lid.

  She bites her lip. “I can’t.”

  “Don’t say no. This is for me, not you.”

  “Will it make you feel better?”

  Nothing can make me feel better. “Yes.”

  She lifts the diamonds from the box and fixes them in her ears. They suit her perfectly. She looks li

ke she was made for flawless, brilliant stones. I take my time eternalizing the picture in my mind.

  “Thank you,” I say, feeling those two words to the bottom of my soul.

  I’m not ready to go, but there’s much to take care of. A lifetime’s planning needs to happen in five days. I take her telephone from my pocket and leave it on the nightstand. Cupping her face, I kiss her forehead. The past is a thick, dark cloud stifling the air between us. Nothing can be said or done to take it away. All I can hope is that my decision will make it better.

  Valentina

  Inside, I’m hacked to pieces. My soul is broken. There’s nothing left of the woman I once was or the one I could’ve been. I’m still a burnt-out volcano––ashes and black––but where that burn was fueled by fear and anger when Gabriel first broke down my door, now it’s the result of inconsolable sadness. The crater that used to be my heart is bubbling with emotions of loss, shame, deceit, and worthlessness. I’ve lost so much of myself I don’t know if there’s enough left to build myself up from the cold embers of destruction. Gabriel’s father took something from me I was supposed to save for the man I’d one day love. He took more than my innocence. He took my ability to have a normal relationship with a normal young man. Maybe that’s why I fell for Gabriel. Maybe I can only have unhealthy, unequal, anything-but-normal relationships with older, twisted men. Owen Louw took my joy for life and gave me nightmares and shame instead. Because of a moment in time when he took something he shouldn’t have wanted, I lost my parents and my future. I lost my beautiful Charles to a boy in the shell of a man. Because of Owen’s crime, we became outcasts who lived in poverty with the cruelty of people like Tiny. When the time came, we would’ve paid the ultimate price––our lives.

  Then there was Gabriel. Because of him, Charlie and I didn’t die the day he came for us. I’d like to believe there was more than lust. A small part of me likes to think it was the kernel of something greater, something deeper. I have to believe he feels more than a physical attraction or even a sick obsession, because the seed of pleasure and pain he planted in me germinated to undeniable attachment and care. The fragile stalk of affection that shot up in my heart from the rotten secrets of our past grew as thick and sturdy as a tree. That tree may have sprouted in the fermenting layers of deceit, but that very compost made the branches rise high and strong. The addictions Gabriel gave me are woven like ivy around that trunk. They are grafted with the plant and the roots. They are part of who I am. In the center of it all is one, encompassing emotion. Love.

  Despite everything, I love Gabriel. It’ll take time to forgive and deal with my past, and great effort to work toward trusting Gabriel again, but there’s positive in the negative. If not for that fatal day of thirteen February, I’d be married to Lambert Roos, living a loveless life in a run-down house in the south of Johannesburg with five or six kids, putting red lipstick on just to get through the day. If Magda hadn’t orchestrated Charlie’s debt at Napoli’s, I wouldn’t have walked in the night I laid eyes on Gabriel. If Gabriel weren’t supposed to have killed me, he wouldn’t have saved me. I’ll always mourn my parents and what happened to Charlie. My scars will never fade completely, but my past doesn’t have to dictate who I become. I choose not to be a victim. Owen may have broken my body and ruined my youth, but I won’t give him my spirit.

  Gabriel broke me, and he made me whole again. He taught me the meaning of love and gave me a beautiful baby who takes that love to a whole different level. When he took me from Berea, he didn’t give me a choice, and I’ve floated in the blameless absolution he offered for far too long. Gabriel’s prisoner or not, it’s time to take a stand. Back then, I took an unwilling vow to pay off the debt for nine years. Now I’ll make my promises willingly. I’d never want a killer as a father for Connor, but Gabriel works for Michael, now. There’s nothing left standing between us. I choose this love. It’s mine to have and to hold, and I’ll give it my damnedest best shot until death do us part.

  Gabriel

  The next few days pass in a blur. Between painting the nursery and arranging Magda’s funeral, I stay with Valentina and Connor as often and long as possible. Quincy, Rhett, and I have the baby equipment covered, or at least I think so. I have no clue if the milliard things we bought remotely covers everything, because I hadn’t been involved in preparations for Carly. That was taken care of by a nurse and interior decorator. Readying a room for Connor gives me immense pleasure. I install a baby monitor with webcam so Valentina can watch him from anywhere in the house. I put up barriers at the top and bottom of the stairs, protective covers on all the corners of the tables and counters, and baby locks on the cupboards with cleaning and hazardous products. I fix a lockable cover on the Jacuzzi, put bars in front of all the upstairs windows, and install an alarm and fence around the swimming pool. Certain that the house is baby safe, I pull out all the poisonous plants in the garden, as well as cover up the fishpond. I read on the internet a toddler can drown in as little as two centimeters of water. I take Charlie to visit Valentina and Connor and prep him on being a good uncle. Rhett and Quincy are at the hospital more than home, eager to try out all the contraptions they bought and disappointed when they’re told they’d have to wait until Connor can maintain his body temperature and has gained sufficient weight.

  Magda’s funeral is the day before Valentina comes home. I arranged it like this on purpose, not wanting her to be a part of the event. Magda doesn’t deserve her parting wishes, and I doubt Valentina would want to pay her any. The service is private, for family only, which means just me. It’s not that I don’t want her friends and business associates to pay their respects. I just can’t face the sharks who’ll circle the waters, waiting eagerly for bits of bait as to how I’m going to handle the business promotions, new appointments, pay-offs, and bribes. It seems fitting that it’s me alone to witness Magda’s weakest moment, when her coffin is lowered into the earth. Even in death, she takes her rightful place next to my father, the way she’d bought the plots years ago. The old graveyard in Emmarentia is full now with no more space for a soul. My body won’t rest here, and that, too, seems fitting. I said my goodbyes before she died. I cut my ties the day in Napoli’s.

  In the late afternoon, Magda’s attorney reads her will. It doesn’t come as a surprise that she’d added a clause. I’m still her sole heir, but the wealth can only be bequeathed or redistributed in the event of my death. Always thorough, Magda made sure I can’t give Valentina or my only surviving child a cent. Magda’s hate for the girl we ruined stretches beyond life, all the way to her grave. Valentina can’t lay a finger on the Louw family fortune, not even as my lawfully, wedded wife, since we got married outside of community of property. Not until I’m dead. Which poses a problem if I’m to give her the freedom I pledged on her life. There’s no way I’m sending her and my child penniless into the world.

  I guess I’ll just have to die.

  17

  Valentina

  Every day Gabriel visits us at the hospital. Kris, Charlie, Rhett, and Quincy are frequent visitors, too, but no one is as caring and considerate as Gabriel. I only have to mention thirsty, and I have a bar fridge in my room stocked with every imaginable brand of mineral water and fruit juice. Even when I don’t say anything, he spoils me with gourmet meals from my favorite Italian delicatessen and raspberry scented bath products. He massages my back and rubs my feet. When he’s not with me, he’s kangarooing Connor and changing his diaper. I see the good father who loved––still loves––Carly, and get a glimpse of how life can be.

  On the day of my discharge, Gabriel waits for me with a bunch of blue and white balloons. Such thoughtful and kind actions, but I want him to stop these exaggerated efforts to make up for the past and simply be himself. I just want us to be. In time, things will fall into place, and we’ll find our measure of normality. I have to hold onto this belief.

  To Gabriel’s protest, I decline the wheelchair. I started walking a bit every day, eager to ga
in back my strength. Rhett and Quincy help cart everything from the room to a pickup Rhett organized for this purpose. With the gifts I accumulated, it’s not a light task. Even if I’m happy to go home, it’s hard for me to leave without my baby. Clutching Gabriel’s hand, I pull back when we reach the main doors of the clinic. Being as in tune with my emotions as he is, he understands the reason for my panic.

  Strong arms fold me into a safe and warm cocoon. “He’ll be fine.” He kisses my lips. “He’s a fighter, like his mother.”

  That evokes a smile, which seems to please Gabriel, but his own is weak in return. I wish I knew what’s going through his head. Magda’s suicide and the knowledge of what his father did must be excruciatingly tough on him. It’s going to be hard to work our way to happiness, but I have a truckload full of determination and endless love in my heart.

  I intertwine our fingers. “Shall we go home?” I want him to know I’m ready, that I’m taking this next step willingly.

  He swallows and nods, but doesn’t move toward the door.

  “Gabriel?” I loosen his arms so I can step back and look up at him.

  His expression shifts. His scars scrunch up with the narrowing of his eyes, as if he’s studying a portrait to commit it to memory. His beautiful, disfigured face softens, and the set of his jaw slackens as his translucent blue gaze drifts over me. This is huge. I don’t know what this sudden look of sad affection means, but I know it’s the kind that can rip your feet from under you. Just as I’m about to speak, a smile wipes the dooming sorrow from his face.

  His voice is unfaltering and strong, washing away my fear. “After you, beautiful.”

  During the drive he tells me about the changes he made at home.

  “I know you want to breastfeed, but I got an electric steam sterilizer, just in case Connor has to drink from a bottle for a while longer.” He glances at me. “And a food processor for later when you want to make puree. If you want to, of course. There’s nothing wrong with buying ready-made baby food. I just thought––”

 
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