This is the part where he plants a fist on my jaw for saying yes. I look him straight in the eyes. “Yes.”
“Why?” Quincy asks.
What the fuck is this? “What do you mean, why?”
“As in a nice piece of ass for tonight or as in an amazing woman for life?”
My anger surges at the mention of her ass. “If you ever speak about her like that again I’ll break your arms and legs.”
Rhett and Quincy look at each other with big grins.
“I think he’ll do,” Quincy says.
Rhett looks me up and down. “Worth the shot, maybe.”
“What’s your fucking problem?”
“Here’s the deal.” Rhett comes closer and lowers his voice. “Valentina’s had a real tough time, lately. Her life’s been pretty much shit. If you checked her out because you think she’ll be a nice diversion, we’re going to bust your balls and break your dick. If you’re good husband material, we’re prepared to set you up on a date.”
I can’t believe my ears. “Set me up on a date?”
“Consider it a preliminary testing,” Quincy says. “We’ll hang out with you, you know, check you out. If you meet our criteria, we’ll let you see her.”
Rhett pushes a finger in my face. “Only if your intentions are serious. You play with her, you play with me.”
“She’s a young mom, recently widowed,” Quincy continues, “so show some respect.”
“What are you guys? Her dating agency?”
“Friends,” they say in unison.
“I see.” I don’t. I want to bash their heads in for setting Valentina up on a date with a man she doesn’t know, even if that man is me.
“Aren’t you supposed to keep men like me away?”
“She’s a good woman,” Rhett says. “She deserves to have someone.”
As much as I’d like to jump at the opportunity, it will make me the man I used to be, the man who manipulated her into wanting and loving him. The whole idea of dying was to set her free.
“Some friends you are,” I bit out. “Keep men like me the fuck away from her, do you understand?”
“You’re not interested?” Rhett asks.
“Damn.” Quincy wipes his brow. “That’s a damn shame. I like him.”
“Guys?” Valentina walks up to us. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Rhett says. “We just talked men stuff.”
“Shall we go find Kris and Charlie? Connor is hungry.”
“Yeah.” Quincy takes the bag of fruit from her. “Let’s go.”
As nonchalantly as I can, I walk away, focusing hard on not showing the slight limp that remained.
Don’t look back. Keep going.
Shit, I can’t do it. When I turn, Valentina stands quietly between the hand-dyed tablecloths, watching me.
20
Valentina
The breath is trapped between my ribs. I can’t draw in enough air to make my lungs work. There’s something about Gregor Malan. His face is not Gabriel’s and his walk is different, but he has a limp, albeit slight, and his build is the same. Everything about him screams Gabriel. If Gabriel himself didn’t tell me he couldn’t risk more plastic surgery, I would’ve bet my life the man who bumped into me is my husband. Either that or the angels had pity on me and sent me a lookalike to relieve the burning pain always present in my chest. Only, no substitute will ever do. If I can’t have Gabriel, I don’t want anyone. My love for him is too complete. Too perfect. I guess he finally broke me. Ruined me. For everyone but him. Yes, I’m damaged beyond repair, the broken toy destined for the garbage dump, but I’m his toy, and broken or not, he will take me back. As soon as I can find him.
“Everything all right?” Kris asks when we get back to her and Charlie.
My smile is automatic. “Fine.”
“We’ll put the stuff in the car,” Rhett says. “Come on, Charlie, give us a hand.”
The men walk off with our shopping and Connor, considerately leaving Kris and I alone.
“Out with it,” she says, pulling me down in the chair next to her. “I know that look.”
“What look?”
“You’re brooding.”
I clutch my hands together. “I just saw someone who reminded me a lot of Gabriel.”
Caution flickers in her gaze. “Val, don’t go looking for him in another man, because you’ll only end up disappointed. No two people are the same.”
“Exactly. I can’t be with anyone but him.”
She cups my hand. “It’s only been ten months. Give it time. Someone else will come along.”
“My mind feels screwed up. The things Gabriel did to me, I hated him for them, and now I crave the pain that brought me pleasure. What other man in his right mind will understand what I need?” I rub a finger over my amputated thumb. “My body is mutilated and my stomach scarred with the stretch marks of his baby. Don’t you see, Kris? I’m damaged in every possible way. No one else can ever want me. Gabriel was my monster, and he made me imperfect and broken in his image. We’re perfect for each other.”
“Don’t talk like this.” She pats my hand. “You fell in love with him. It’s natural for you to feel this strongly about him, even if what he did was wrong.”
“I didn’t fall in love with him. I’m addicted to him, but if––when––I find him, I’m planning on falling head over heels for him like I couldn’t the first time. This time, there’ll be no holding back.”
“Oh, Val.” Her look is concerned. “You need to see a psychologist who can prescribe antidepressants to help you cope. There’s no shame in relying on medication. You don’t have to get through this on strength and willpower alone.”
“I don’t need a doctor.” I push out my chin. “What I need is a date.”
“I thought you said you didn’t want anyone else.”
“I don’t.”
Her eyebrows pinch together. “I don’t understand.”
“I need a date with the man I met here.”
“No, no, no. You’re not going on a witch-hunt for a Gabriel incarnation. That’s just plain unhealthy.”
“Told you I’m damaged. There’s not a healthy thought left in my head.”
“I don’t know what you see when you look at yourself, but I see a beautiful, strong, generous, and loving woman, a woman who’ll unselfishly do anything for her brother and child.”
Quincy calls from across the field. “Val, let’s go.”
I give Kris a quick hug. “You’re a good friend. Have I told you how much I appreciate you?”
“All the time.”
Quincy comes jogging toward us. “I changed Connor’s diaper and gave him his bottle, but he’s starting to complain.”
“It’s his nap time. He must be tired.” I get to my feet. “Thanks for meeting us, Kris.”
“See you Saturday?”
“Sure. Come over for dinner and a board game in the week.”
Walking back to the car, my step is lighter than what it has been in ten months as a plan takes shape in my head.
Tracking Mr. Malan is easy. From what I can find on the internet, he runs a one-man, obscure insurance company specializing in high-valued gemstones. It’s a risky business, but with only a handful of topnotch clients such as De Beers and Anglo American he must be making a good living. According to his social media profile, he grew up in central South Africa, near Kimberley, which, on paper, explains his connection to the diamond industry. I have my doubts about the bland and straight-lined history mapped out on my computer screen. Mr. Malan obtained a business degree from the University of Bloemfontein, after which he ran a small jewelry manufacturing business that dissolved with the owner’s death, hence his new project. There’s only one way to find out if my suspicion is founded.
Closing the office door for privacy, I balance Connor on my lap and dial the number listed for Dimension Insurance.
He answers with a short-breathed, “Yes?”
Everything about
that voice makes me go still inside. The way the deep baritone vibrates through my body sends sparks to my nerve endings. Every follicle contracts. Every hair stands erect.
“Hello?”
I jerk back to life. “It’s Valentina Louw. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
The pause on the other end of the line lasts only a millisecond, but it’s enough to notice. “No. I was just working out.”
I can hear the uncertainty, the questions, and the hunger in his voice. We’re too much in tune, the nuances too clear for me to imagine them all. “I can call back later.”
“That won’t be necessary. What can I do for you?”
“I looked you up on the internet.”
He utters a dry chuckle. “I gathered.” More caution. “Why?”
“You run an insurance company.”
“That’s right.”
It sounds as if he’s opening the fridge. A can pops. The sound is followed by soft swallowing. My imagination does wicked things to me, putting images in my mind of Gabriel leaning against the counter, drinking beer. His Adam’s apple moves as he swallows. All the while he watches me with the sexual intent that tells me he’s going to bend me over the counter and take what he wants, but not without giving me what I crave, first.
“Mrs. Louw?” I swear there’s a cocky grin behind the carefulness in his tone.
I fan myself with a piece of paper from my desk. “I have business for you.”
“What kind of business?”
“Diamonds. I prefer we meet to discuss this in person rather than over the phone.”
“I…” His sigh is filled with regret. “I’m not the right man for the job.”
His words can’t be further from the truth. “I’ll be the judge of that. Tomorrow, four o’clock?” I close my eyes and hold my breath.
“I work from home.” He makes it sound like a protest.
“Not a problem. I have your address.”
“Of course you do.” This time, he sounds downright amused, but then his tone changes, again. “Mrs. Louw, I––”
“See you at four tomorrow, then.”
I hang up before he has time to conjure a reason why I shouldn’t knock on his door. If Gregor is Gabriel, I plan to expose him. He better be ready. I’ll barge through his door like he once did through mine, swinging a weapon much more powerful than a gun.
All through the next day, I have a lump of concrete in my stomach. Since we’re fumigating the office, we have to close early––the perfect excuse to go home and get ready. While Connor naps, I shower and change. My hands shake when I apply make-up and dry my hair. Even the weather plays along for ambience with a powerful thunderstorm, probably one of the last before the dry winter spell. The thunder wakes Connor. I feed and change him, and get in some quality cuddle time. At three-thirty, I button up my trench coat and grab an umbrella. Connor should be good for a couple of hours. Carrying him downstairs, I go in search of the guys and find them playing poker in the kitchen.
Rhett gives a wolf whistle when he sees me. “Wow. You cleaned up nicely.”
“It’s only make-up.” I shift Connor to the other hip, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Have I gone overboard?
“Pre–pretty.”
“Thanks, Charlie.”
Quincy’s gaze runs over me. “Stockings and heels? I didn’t know we’re going out.”
“Ou–out.” Charlie looks at the window where thunder lights up the sky. “It’s rai–raining.”
“We’re not going out. I am.”
“Uh-uh.” Quincy pulls his mouth in an obstinate line. “You’re not going anywhere without one of us.” He pushes back his chair. “I’ll come.”
“You can’t come.”
He gives me a baffled look. “Why not?”
“I’m going out.”
Rhett stops stuffing his mouth with potato chips to look at me. “Out as in on a date?”
“I guess you could call it that.”
“Oh. Wow. Yes. Okay.” Quincy and Rhett exchange a look. “Great.”
“That’s cool.” Rhett says. “I’ll drive you.”
“Rhett.” I lift my brow.
“What?”
“I’m not going to relax knowing you’re sitting outside in the car.”
He scrunches his forehead and rubs his lips together, as if he’s thinking. “It’s dangerous, out there.”
“You taught me how to handle myself, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but––”
“Don’t you have confidence in my ability to defend myself?”
“You’re mean with those tiny fists and a gun, but…” He rubs the back of his head. “I don’t know.”
“I appreciate how well you’re looking after me, guys, really I do, but if you want me to go out and meet people, you’ve got to give me a bit of freedom.”
“She’s right,” Quincy says on a sigh. “We can’t chaperone her on a date.”
“I’ll be out a couple of hours, max.”
“All right.” Rhett seems simultaneously happy and uncomfortable with the words. “Call us if you’re running late.”
“Do you mind watching Connor? I would’ve asked Kris, but she’s working.”
“Of course not.” Quincy holds out his hands. “Come here, big guy. Uncle Charlie is going to teach you how to play poker, and Uncle Quincy is going to teach you how to win.”
“Be careful on the road with the rain,” Rhett says, his expression worried.
“I’ll be fine. Thanks for Connor.”
“Don’t mention it.” Quincy winks. “Go on. Have fun.”
“There’s a bottle in the fridge if Connor gets hungry before I’m back. If he gets difficult, call me.”
“We know how to handle a baby.” Quincy balances Connor on his knee and shoos me away with one hand. “Off you go.”
“You guys are the best. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“You’re making me all emotional now,” Rhett complains.
“Later, Charlie.” I blow him a kiss and leave before my nerves fail me.
On the drive to Gregor’s place, I contemplate the outcome. If he’s not Gabriel, he may not appreciate my approach, but I’m certain it’s him. I can’t help but feel sure of myself.
Gregor’s house is in a neat, raw-brick security complex. I have to sign in at the gate, and the guard has to call his unit for permission to let me through, which warns him of my arrival. Gregor may still refuse me, but after talking on the intercom system, the guard pushes a button that lifts the boom.
As I take the long driveway up to his house, the electronic gates open. I drive in and park in front of the garage. The front door opens before I’m out of the car. Gabriel––Gregor––stands in the frame, dressed in dark slacks and a fitted shirt. The sight of him takes my breath away. This new model of Gabriel has a shorter beard and hair, but the color is the same. His face is strikingly handsome, throwing me somewhat off kilter and adding the spark that fuels my doubt. Beneath the clothes, I can guess the lines that define his muscles.
His stance is casual, but his shoulders are tense. He watches my approach with a boredom that’s feigned, because his eyes miss nothing. They look at me in the way Gabriel first looked at me in Napoli’s and the way he did when he broke into my flat. Like that first time, he tears open my soul and looks right through me, but there is one difference. The roles are reversed. This time, I’m coming to him as the hunter, and he’s the vulnerable prey.
He doesn’t speak until I’m right in front of him. “Mrs. Louw.”
“Mr. Malan.”
His green eyes scrutinize me. The color is disconcerting, not the iced blue I’m looking for, but he’s wearing contact lenses.
“I think this is a mistake. Whatever you think my company––”
I climb onto the step, putting my body flush against his. “I’ll have a glass of water, please.”
The sharp intake of his breath is all I get before he backs away, giving me cl
ear entry into his house. Prowling around, I take in his domain. The lounge, dining room, and kitchen are open-plan. The space is furnished with nothing but a reclining leather chair and a fridge.
He regards me from hooded eyes as he walks to the fridge and retrieves a bottle of mineral water. Taking a glass from the cupboard, he pours the water and hands it to me.
“Thank you.” I make sure our fingers brush when I take the glass.
His eyelashes flutter. “About your business––”
“So, you’re from Bloemfontein.”
His eyes narrow, and his lips twitch. He doesn’t like it when I defy him by interrupting and controlling the conversation, but he lets it slide.
“What else did you read about me?”
I take a sip of the water. “Everything I could find.”
For a second his gaze fixes on my lips as I drink, but then he drags it away.
“How about you, Mr. Malan? Did you read everything about me?”
“I didn’t have to.”
I take another sip. “How so?”
“You’re a known figure in this town.”
“I am?”
He walks around the island counter, stopping short of me. “You said you had business. I did my homework, too. Your specialty is high-risk investments. I didn’t see diamonds in your portfolio.”
I lift my left hand and show him my wedding ring. “I’d like to insure this. It’s very valuable to me.”
He stares at it. “I don’t deal in personal insurance. For that, you’ll have to call Auto and General.”
Leaving the glass on the counter, I place my palm on his chest and slide it down his rock-hard stomach to his even harder erection. When I cup his length, he remains motionless, regarding me with expressionless eyes, but his cock twitches in my hand.
“And for this?” I whisper. “Do I have to call someone else for this, too?”
His green eyes darken at my words, but he doesn’t take the bait.
Gently, he removes my hand and puts a step between us. “As there seems to be nothing I can help you with, I think it’s better that you leave.”
“Nothing?” I start to unbutton my coat. “It’s been a long time. Ten months, to be exact.”
Consent (The Loan Shark Duet Book 2) Page 26