I cup his knee. “Thank you, Gabriel. Everything will be perfect.”
At home, he takes me on a tour to show me what he mentioned in the car, insisting on carrying me up and down the stairs. It’s as if he’s lecturing me before going on a long trip. Despite my earlier burst of energy, I’m tired by the time we finish and happy to take a short nap.
The men prepare a welcoming dinner of burnt lamb chops and lumpy mashed potatoes. I feel cherished and something I haven’t felt in a long time––welcome. This is home. This is our home.
After dinner, Gabriel carries me to the shower and washes my hair and body. He takes extra care with drying me, careful not to press on my stitches. Kneeling at my feet, he stares at me with a molten look in his eyes.
He plants a trail of kisses up my legs to my thighs, his palms following the path. “God, you’re beautiful.”
“I have a lot of flab to get rid of.”
“There’s nothing to get rid of.” His hands glide over my hips. “You’re perfect.”
I brush my fingers through his thick hair. “You’re a liar.”
“Not about this. Not about you.” He places a gentle kiss under my incision. “This amazing body gave me a beautiful son.” His eyes fill with regret. “I’m sorry, Valentina, but I’d do it all over again to keep you safe.”
“It’s okay.” I cup his cheek when he presses his face to my stomach. “What you did was wrong, but I don’t resent having Connor.”
There’s more to discuss, but we have time, and for now I forget everything as his fingers move to my center.
“We’re not supposed to…” I moan when he parts me gently.
“I won’t penetrate you. Just a taste.”
His tongue licks over my folds, finding my aching clit. The hot wetness of his mouth feels amazing, but the pleasure makes my womb contract, and that hurts. I groan in frustrated disappointment when he stops.
“Sorry.” He gives me a sheepish look. “I couldn’t resist.”
He picks me up and carries me to the bed as if I’m made of paper-thin glass. Shifting in behind me, he holds me to his body, skin against skin, until I drift off to the promise he made in the clinic when he whispered he loved me. When I said those same words to him, he didn’t believe me, but it doesn’t matter. I have all the time in the world to convince him. One day, if I’m lucky, I may hear those precious words coming from his lips again.
I wake up alone. The sheets on Gabriel’s side of the bed are cold. He can be in the shower or working out in the gym. Only, I know he isn’t. There’s an instinctive knowledge in my soul. A dark feeling folds foreboding wings around me. My heart flaps in the cage of my ribs.
“Gabriel?”
I get out of bed and pull on a robe. Making my way downstairs as fast as my stitches allow, I call his name again, but all I get is my echo in the empty space.
“Valentina?” Quincy steps into the kitchen, concern etched on his face. “Is everything all right?”
“Gabriel.” I walk to the kitchen as if I’m walking on pins. “Gabriel’s gone.”
“Hey.” He rushes to meet me and takes my arm. “He left early to take care of business. He’ll be back after breakfast.”
I sit down in the chair he pulls out for me. “Where did he go?”
“The Brixton office.”
“With Rhett?”
“Yes.”
Even knowing Rhett is with him doesn’t make me breathe easier. “Why?”
“With Magda gone, there’s a lot to iron out.”
We haven’t talked about the business or what his plans are, yet. Maybe he feels it doesn’t concern me. “He works for Michael. Does that mean he’s going back to the loan business?”
Quincy looks uncomfortable. “I don’t know about that. You’ll have to ask him.”
There’s still such a huge gap between Gabriel and I and where I stand in our relationship.
“Can I make you a cup of coffee?” Quincy asks with a scrunched-up brow. “Maybe tea?”
I clutch my stomach and push to my feet. “I need to speak to him. Now.” I can’t shake this horrible feeling crawling over my skin.
“Whoa.” He pushes me back into the chair. “Stay put. Gabriel will skin me alive if you tear your stitches. I’ll get your phone. Where is it?”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “On the night stand in the bedroom.”
“I’ll be right back.” He bolts up the stairs, taking them two by two.
I don’t care that the bed is unmade or that my clothes are scattered over the floor where Gabriel dropped each item last night after meticulously studying every inch of my body, not as if he was saying goodbye. Worse. As if he’d never set eyes on me again. My throat tightens. I grip the chair, battling to breathe.
Quincy comes bouncing down the stairs with my phone and holds it out to me. “Here you go.” He does a double take. “Jesus, Val. You’re as white as a sheet. Are you okay? Shall I call a doctor? Gabriel said I must call Dr. Engelbrecht if you don’t feel well.”
I take the phone with a shaking hand. “I just need to hear his voice.”
I scroll through my call list and push the dial. Pressing the phone to my ear, I wait impatiently for the call to connect. If only I can speak to him, this irrational fear will let me go. My world will be all right, my life aligned.
Hope plummets with an uneasy turn of my stomach when his phone goes straight onto voicemail.
“Gabriel,” I wet my dry lips, “please call me. I need to hear your voice. I need to tell you things, too many things I can’t say over the phone.” I start to cry. “I want to tell you how much I love you, and that I’m staying because I want to. I want to give this relationship my best shot. I want to make the vows I took real. Please, please, Gabriel, don’t take this chance away from me. Don’t leave without giving me a chance to say this. You owe me, do you hear me? You owe me this chance.” My tears run in rivulets down my face. “Please, call me back.” I hang up, utterly devastated. Lowering my head to my hands, I weep like never before.
“Val.” Quincy’s breathless voice reaches me through my sobs. “Good God. What’s happening? What can I do?”
Through my tears I see him crouch down in front of me.
“He’s at work, sweetheart. He’ll get your message and call you back when––”
The ringtone of his phone cuts him short. The sound is loud and obtrusive, like bad news.
His face freezes when he glances at the screen. His voice is ominous. “It’s Rhett.” He forces a smile on his face, but his heart isn’t in his words. “See? He’ll tell you everything’s fine.” He straightens and walks to the corner, keeping his back turned to me. “What’s up, Rhett?”
For a while he doesn’t speak. He only listens. The set of his shoulders grows tighter and tighter. They pull inward, and his head lowers between them until it hangs from his neck like a wilted leaf. He turns an inch, as if he wants to look at me, but he doesn’t. He cuts the call and drops his hand without saying a word. He doesn’t have to. It’s written in his body language. When he finally faces me, the sorrow I see on his face weakens my knees.
“Val.” He swallows and looks away, then returns his eyes to mine. “You have to be strong.”
18
Valentina
My head moves from side to side automatically, already denying the words Quincy hasn’t spoken yet. “No.”
He walks back to me, drops the phone on the table, and takes my hands. “There was an explosion.”
Heat boils through my veins and freezes over. I stare at Quincy in a silent stupor.
“I…” His Adam’s apple bobs, and his eyes blur behind a veil of moisture. “I’m sorry.” His voice lowers to a whisper. “Gabriel was in the building.”
I can’t think. I can’t process what he said. Only my body is reacting to the vicious words, starting to shake uncontrollably.
“Rhett is on his way with a police officer.” He blinks several times, but his tears overflow. “You�
I don’t feel strong. I’m not strong enough for this. This can’t be happening. From afar, someone calls my name.
“Val.” Quincy gives my shoulders a gentle shake. “I’m going to help you upstairs. You’re going to get dressed.”
I move on autopilot. It’s all I can do to keep myself together, but like a mended vase full of glued cracks, my foundation is already weak. Nothing is coherent, and nothing is powerful enough to protect me from this onslaught. It’s Quincy’s steady hand that gives me guidance, leaving me in the dressing room to finish a mundane routine so I can face the world.
Randomly, I take clothes from hangers, not giving thought to color or style. I don’t remember dressing or brushing my teeth, but my breath tastes like mint, and my hair is untangled when there’s a soft knock on the bedroom door. I open it to find Rhett standing on the doorstep, looking forlorn and haggard. His shoulders shake as he takes me into a brief hug, taking care not to press on my wound.
“There’s a sergeant downstairs,” he says when he manages to regain his composure.
“I know.”
Taking my arm, he helps me to the lounge where a woman in a blue uniform waits. Looking at her young face, I feel sorry for her. What a terrible task.
“Mrs. Louw,” her voice is steady, respectful, and filled with sympathy, “I’m terribly sorry to inform you that your husband perished in an explosion this morning.”
Perished. What a strange choice of words. Like food or a lifeless commodity. “Won’t you please sit?” I take a chair because my legs won’t carry me.
She perches on the edge of the sofa and glances at Quincy and Rhett who hover at my side. “Do you prefer we speak in private?”
I follow her gaze. Like a watch losing time, I’m a second late in making intellectual connections. “Oh,” I say as I catch her drift. “They’re employees and friends. You can speak in front of them.”
“Very well.” She shifts her attention back to me. “An investigation will have to be conducted, but we suspect foul play.”
Something inside my chest pinches. “You mean it wasn’t an accident?”
“We found evidence that says otherwise.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“Plastic explosives.”
I clamp a hand over my mouth. “Oh, my God.”
“Your husband had many enemies.” She says it like a statement. “Did he have any threats, of late?”
I can think of a hundred people off the top of my head who would’ve threatened Gabriel, especially with Magda gone, but that’s not where my thoughts are dwelling. “The body.” I sink my nails into the fabric of the seat when I think of him blown to pieces. “Did you find a body?”
“Not yet, but the debris hasn’t been combed through.”
I look at Rhett. “He could’ve gotten out.”
Rhett’s look is haunted. “I saw him go inside, Val. There’s no other way out. No backdoor or windows.”
Anger surges in me. “What the hell was he doing there? Why did he go back?”
Rhett places a hand on my shoulder and says gently, “He had to deal with the business after Magda’s death.”
The sergeant clears her throat. “What time did your husband leave the house this morning?”
I turn back to her. “I don’t know. When I woke up he was gone.”
“We left at six,” Rhett said, “as I already told you.”
She ignores him, keeping her attention fixed on me. “I’ll let you know what we find.” She reaches inside her pocket and pulls out a business card. “In the meantime, if you have any questions or information you think may be helpful, don’t hesitate to call.”
I take the card with numb fingers, staring at the name without seeing it.
“Good day, Mrs. Louw.” She gets to her feet. “Again, I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
Rhett sees her to the door while Quincy stays at my side.
“Who did it?” I ask Rhett when he returns.
“If I knew, Val, he’d already be dead.”
I hug myself to contain my shaking. “Someone knew he’d be going there.”
“Everyone knew,” Quincy said with a note of despair, “and the sergeant is right. He had many enemies.” His tone darkens. “As do you.”
“He’s not dead. I don’t believe it.”
“Val.” Rhett goes down on one knee, putting us on eye level. “He’s gone. He walked in there, and two minutes later an explosion rocked the place.” He shakes his head. “I’m so fucking sorry. No one and nothing could’ve survived the blast.”
The connection between us is still there. Could it be like a ghost limb? Would I feel the itch long after my soul mate has been amputated, like with my thumb?
Before I can analyze my thoughts, Charlie comes downstairs wearing his batman T-shirt and pajama bottoms. I go to him with outstretched arms, needing his comfort even if he doesn’t understand. I lean my head against his chest and whisper, “Gabriel’s gone.”
“Gabriel’s go–gone.”
At the affirmation, my whole being shatters. My legs cave in. Like a lump of dead weight, I plummet to the floor. All I want is to curl up and stay there, but at witnessing my distress, Charlie starts pulling at his hair. He needs me. Connor needs me. In a flash, Quincy and Rhett are there, helping me to my feet.
“We’ve got you,” Quincy says. “You’re going to be all right, do you hear me? It’ll take time, but eventually you’ll be all right.”
The words don’t soothe me, because I don’t believe them. Without Gabriel, nothing will be all right, so I put my strength in hope, in this strange connection that still seems to simmer between us.
“We’ll find him,” I say to Quincy, “and then I’ll be fine.”
A look passes between him and Rhett.
“There’s been too many damn funerals in this family,” Rhett grits out, “and I’ll be damned if we add another one to it.” He marches me over to the kitchen and calls for Charlie to follow. “First things first. You have to eat. I’m cooking.”
The police give clearance for the Brixton office two months after the explosion. It didn’t take two months to sift through the debris for evidence. They just didn’t have the staff to attend to it before. What they give me is a report and a plastic bag with Gabriel’s distorted wedding band, the only item they salvaged. This token––his ring––announces that he’s gone for real. Had I not believed so strongly he’s alive, I would’ve collapsed on the spot. The police report states human remains were recovered, but are unidentifiable. The only link to the body destroyed in the blast, confirming the deceased’s identity, is the platinum ring. Officially, Gabriel has been declared dead. Officially, I’m a widow.
Gabriel has always been a meticulous planner. It doesn’t come as a surprise that he has his funeral organized to the last detail, leaving nothing for me to do but mourn. Dressed in black, with Kris by my side, I stand at the edge of a grave as an empty coffin is lowered into the ground. As long as Gabriel is not inside that coffin there’s a chance he’s alive. Until I see his body with my own eyes, I refuse to believe it. Dr. Engelbrecht says I’m in denial, but he doesn’t feel the bond I feel with Gabriel. He says denial is the first step in the grieving process, and it’s perfectly normal, but he doesn’t know I’ve been grieving since I turned thirteen. If he knew my intentions, he’d say nothing about what I feel is normal and I should be locked up in an asylum. I intend to spend every cent at my disposal to find the man who stole me. In my heart, I’m certain he’s alive, even as Rhett assures me every day that Gabriel entered that building. Rhett went as far as to get the tapes from the street security cameras that monitor the building, showing Gabriel’s broad shoulders disappear through the door. My husband must be Houdini, then.
A touch on my arm pulls me back to the present. Diogo’s face hovers over mine.
“I’m sorry for your loss, my dear. Now that you’re alone, let me know if you need a shoulder to cry on.”
Rhett, who’s never far, steps forward, but I hold up a hand. “No, thanks. I tend to avoid rapists.”
Kris jerks with a start. She looks like she wants to say something, but Diogo places his body between us, blocking her from my view.
He laughs, the sound soft and hollow. “Careful with the accusations. I may decide to sue you for name slandering.”
“I’d never make an accusation without the evidence to prove it. As it happens, I have the footage from the security cameras showing you with your dick hanging out trying to jump me against the wall. Isn’t that how you put it?”
He glances around and lowers his voice. “No need to get your claws out. I’m only offering my support.”
“Your support is unwanted. If I find you and your support anywhere near me again, I’ll splash that tape in all the places that matter and turn you into an overnight news celebrity. I’m sure one of the boys will enjoy jumping your ass against a prison wall.”
He points a finger at me. “Watch it, little girl. I don’t take to threats kindly.”
“Oh, it’s not a threat. It’s your new reality. If anything happens to me or anyone related to me, those files go footloose. Call it my personal insurance against jumpers like you.”
Rhett and Quincy are enjoying the show, but their smiles don’t diminish the ferocity of the warning looks they fix on Diogo.
Fire shoots from his eyes. All that’s missing is smoke billowing from his nostrils as he twirls around and stalks away.
Inside, I’m shaking. Of course, it’s all bluff. I don’t have the tape. I don’t enjoy playing this game, but I expected it. When someone as powerful and wealthy as Gabriel goes down, the vultures move in.
Captain Barnard, who’s standing nearby, walks up. “I’m sorry about your husband.”
“Thank you.”
“This isn’t the time or place, but call me in a couple of weeks if you’d like to clean up the loan shark business. We’ll strike a deal. I’ll offer you immunity in exchange for information.”
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