The shopkeeper returns with a pitcher of ice tea and glasses, but Gabriel doesn’t let go of me.
She measures our stance. Depositing the tray on the table, she says in a professional tone, “Have you chosen anything yet?”
An hour later, I walk out with a new dress, designer jeans, two T-shirts, a casual trench coat, a pair of ballerina flats, five sets of pretty underwear, and a cute off-shoulder sweater. Gabriel pushed me to take more, but this is already more than I need.
He loads my parcels in the back of his car, and when we’re seated, he turns to me. “Where to, beautiful?”
I’m sure he already knows, but I give him Kris’ address. On the way there, I try to figure out what just happened. By the time we pull up in front of the practice, I’m still nowhere near understanding Gabriel.
He switches off the engine. “Your flat has been sold.”
“Wow, that quickly?”
“I arranged for the money to be paid into your bank account. I hope that’s in order.”
“Gabriel...” I’m at a loss for words. “Thank you.” The words don’t express my gratitude, but they’re all I can muster.
“No need to thank me. I said I’d handle it.”
He reaches over me and opens my door, his arm brushing against my breasts. Before I can object, he gets my parcels and carries them to Kris’ house. Charlie meets us by the door, taking me into a bear hug.
“Va–Val!”
“Hey, big brother.”
Gabriel holds out his hand for Charlie to shake. “Hi, remember me?”
“You’re the ba–bad ma–man.”
Gabriel chuckles. “I guess you can say that, but I prefer Gabriel.”
Charlie takes a step back and looks at me with big eyes.
“It’s okay, Charlie. Gabriel isn’t going to hurt us. I work for him, remember?”
After contemplating my response, Charlie’s good manners finally win. “Want a jui–juice?”
“Sure.” Gabriel flashes me a smile and makes himself right at home in Kris’ kitchen.
I’m wary of having him around my brother. I watch him like a hawk while he makes small talk with Charlie, but Charlie quickly warms up to Gabriel. When he leaves an hour later, you’d swear they’re best buddies. What game is Gabriel playing? He can toy with me if that’s the price I have to pay for Charlie’s freedom, but I won’t let him disrupt my brother’s life.
* * *
Gabriel
Since Carly is at her mother’s this weekend, I have the evening and tomorrow to myself. Magda is out with friends. I ensured that no business meetings were scheduled and gave Rhett and Quincy the weekend off. I pour a whiskey and settle into an armchair in the reading room with Valentina’s file in my lap. There’s not much in her history I don’t already know. Her father, Marvin, was involved in a car cloning syndicate. Her mother, Julietta, was a housewife. Valentina grew up in Rosettenville, in the south. When she was thirteen, their Chevrolet went off a bridge. Marvin was killed on impact. Valentina survived, and Charlie incurred serious injuries resulting in brain damage. One year later, her mother was killed during an armed bank robbery. An aunt took care of Valentina and Charles, moving into the flat her parents owned in Berea when their house was auctioned to cover the outstanding accounts and funeral costs. The aunt died after Valentina’s nineteenth birthday, leaving her to take care of Charlie alone.
My earlier question remains. Why did no one take care of Julietta and her kids? In our business, family is everything. We take care of our own. Marvin wasn’t at the top of the hierarchy, but he wasn’t a petty thief, either. He had enough influence and support to guarantee his widow and children protection, a roof over their heads, and food. Instead, they lived from hand to mouth after his death.
I put the file aside and wipe a hand over my face. The second folder contains Valentina’s bank activity of the day. Half of the money I paid her for her flat was transferred to Kris’ account. The other half, she paid into an account registered to UNISA. Following up the lead on the University of South Africa, I confirm my assumption. Valentina is enrolled in a correspondence degree in veterinary science. Using my contacts, I have a number for Valentina’s mentor at the university within minutes. Even if it’s late, I dial the number. It doesn’t take me long to convince Mrs. Cavendish to have breakfast with me tomorrow.
* * *
I sit at a table tucked away in a private corner on the Rosebank Hotel rooftop when Aletta Cavendish arrives. She’s not the old prude her voice made me imagine. The only reason I know it’s her is because she walks onto the rooftop at the exact time we agreed. The tall platinum blonde is in her late thirties. Wedding ring. Big diamond. The husband must have a cozy job, because university professors don’t earn that much. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and there’s not a trace of makeup on her face. Even without the help of cosmetics, she’s attractive. She wears a white T-shirt and flowing, Indian-print skirt with leather sandals. There must be twenty bangles on her arm. The flower-child type. From her straight back and square shoulders, I gather she has confidence. Her walk is easy and light. Clearly the type who sleeps well at night.
She gives her name to the waiter, and when he motions in my direction, she meets my eyes with a level and friendly stare. For a moment, there’s shock on her face when she takes in my features, but her smile doesn’t unravel. Her earrings dangle as she approaches my corner. I’m on my feet before she reaches the table.
She greets me with a firm handshake. “Mr. Louw.”
“Gabriel, please.” I pull out her chair and seat her. “Thank you for meeting me.”
Dropping an oversized bag next to her chair, she gives me a scrutinizing look. “I have to admit, if the student concerned wasn’t Valentina, I wouldn’t be here.”
“I appreciate your time.” I nod at the waiter. “Shall we order?”
As she studies the menu, I observe her. Aletta is intelligent and doesn’t beat around the bush. I like her. She’s passionate and dedicated. Must make a good teacher.
We both order coffee and eggs benedict. When the waiter’s gone, she says, “You said on the phone you’re Valentina’s new employer. I didn’t know she’d changed jobs.”
“It’s very recent.”
“What does she do for you, exactly?”
“House management.”
She tilts her head. “Like a maid?”
I smile, keeping my expression even.
“I’m surprised,” Aletta continues. “She loved the job at the vet practice, and it was good experience.”
“I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.” No lies there.
The waiter returns to serve our coffee. Aletta stirs in one sugar and milk. “In that case, it must be for better money. God knows, she can do with every extra cent.”
“I’m concerned about her financial welfare, which is why I wanted to meet. Valentina doesn’t know about it, of course. She’s proud. I’d appreciate it if we can keep this discussion between us.”
She blows on the coffee, watching me from over the rim. “What are you asking me?”
“How much does she owe?”
“Isn’t that a question you should ask her?”
“All right. I’ll rephrase that. How much does a veterinary degree cost these days?”
“You’re looking at roughly fifty thousand a year, excluding books and material.”
“I know how much she earned before she started working for me. How did she manage?”
“She has a partial bursary, but it’s not enough to cover everything.”
“Is she a good student?”
“Honestly? She’s hands-down the best I’ve ever had. Her grades are top, but that girl has a natural vet in her. I’ve never seen animals react to anyone like they behave toward her.”
You bet. “Then how come she secured only a partial bursary?”
“With the financial collapse and political unrest there’s very little left in the university coffers. There are no
full-time bursaries for vet students. I’m donating her books, but as you said, she’s proud. Luckily, Valentina is also strong. Becoming a vet is her dream. She’ll find a way.”
The food arrives. The waiter arranges the salt and juice, shifting it around several times before he can fit the plates.
I’ve never had to worry about money. If I want something, I go out and buy it. I can’t imagine what it’s like to work your fingers to the bone and worry about covering your bills, which is ironic coming from a man who makes money from other people’s financial troubles.
I lean back in my chair. “If I’m to create a bursary, can I choose to who it’ll go?”
The knife stills in her hand. “Yes.” She looks at me with mild surprise. “You can name the beneficiary.”
“The beneficiary doesn’t need to know who the sponsor is?”
A smile warms her eyes. “You can call the bursary whatever you want. It doesn’t have to carry your name, and it can certainly be anonymous.”
I lean my elbows on the table and tip my fingers together. “In that case, I’d like to offer a full bursary, all expenses paid.”
Her smile turns ten degrees warmer. “I’ll put you in touch with the right person in finance.”
“Monday.” I want to pave this road for Valentina as soon as possible.
“Gotcha.” She takes a bite, chews slowly, and swallows. “You know, I had my doubts about you.”
“Yes?”
“I thought you were going to tell me Valentina’s studies are interfering with her job.”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that.”
“I’m glad I was wrong.”
She has no idea.
* * *
After breakfast, I text my private banker and give instruction for the bursary to be set up. Then I head to Rosettenville. I drive past the address in my file, the house in which Valentina grew up. It’s a humble miner’s house, the cheap, cookie-cutter type the gold mines constructed for their workers and later sold to private owners. In this street, everything looks the same. It’s hard to imagine someone like Valentina walking the streets of this average and dull neighborhood. She belongs someplace exotic, someplace beautiful. The main street that houses most of the commercial businesses is quiet. The shops are closed on the weekend. At the mechanic workshop, I park my car and tuck the gun into the back of my waistband. Lambert Roos lives in a house adjoining the workshop. The simple dwelling has a low wall in front, an easy target for thieves. With the fall of Hillbrow and downtown, Rosettenville became a dangerous neighborhood. The fact that he hasn’t raised the wall and fitted it with electrified barbwire tells me one of two things. Either he’s too poor or he’s powerful enough for criminals not to fuck with him. Judging from the peeled paint on the walls and the missing roof tiles, I’m putting my money on the first option.
I jump over the wall and bang on the door. Footsteps shuffle inside.
“Who is it?” a male voice calls.
“Gabriel Louw.”
There’s a moment’s hesitation before the door swings open on a crack. A short, bald man dressed in a vest and a pair of boxer shorts regards me with skepticism. He shoots a look over my shoulder, his gaze traveling up and down the street.
“I’m alone,” I say with a cold smile.
“Well, well, if it ain’t Owen’s ugly duckling. Howzit?”
I should kill him for that remark, but I need information. Shoving past him, I make my way into his house. The place smells like old socks and stale cabbage. The carpets are worn, and the furniture has seen better days. Business must be slow. Or maybe not. On the table, there are several bags filled with white powder. Coke or maybe cat.
His eyes follow mine. A thin layer of perspiration shines on his forehead. “What can I do you for?” he asks with humorless slang. “Want a beer?” He shifts his weight.
He’s hospitable enough, but he wants me gone.
“Remember Marvin Haynes?”
Cocking his neck, he blinks twice. “Yeah. Who doesn’t?”
“You must’ve known him well, seeing that you were supposed to marry his daughter.”
His puffy eyes narrow, and he utters a forced chuckle. “He lived down the road, but we weren’t thick with each other. Saw his missus from time to time in the pharmacy. Why do you ask?”
“If Valentina Haynes was promised to you, why didn’t your family take her and her brother in after her mother died?”
He scratches the back of his neck. “With her daddy gone, the deal was off.”
“You didn’t want to honor the agreement?”
“She’s not my type.”
Bull fucking shit. “She’s a very pretty woman, isn’t she?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t like pretty? Or you don’t like women?”
“Look, she didn’t do it for me.”
“You backed out because she didn’t do it for you?”
“Yeah.”
He’s lying through his crooked, yellow teeth.
“Why do you want know?” he asks, trying to look nonchalant, but his voice breaks on the last word.
I shrug. “Curiosity.”
With a nod, I go back to my car. Before I’m inside, the idiot has his cellphone in his hand, looking at me through the tattered lace curtains as he makes a call. I should’ve tapped his phone before my visit. It doesn’t matter. I’ll find out. I text Anton with Lambert’s name and address, as well as the date and time, instructing him to get a recording of the conversation and send it as an encrypted message to my private email account.
* * *
Valentina
When I step outside Kris’ house on late Sunday afternoon, Rhett is waiting across the road next to the Mercedes. He opens the backdoor in silent instruction for me to get in. Not a word passes between us during the drive to Parktown. My heart is sad to leave Charlie. I feel guilty for not being able to take care of him, but more than that, I miss his presence. His joy is innocent and genuine. He’s the only piece of uncomplicated truthfulness in the twisted emotions of my life.
Despite my sadness, my body starts humming when we get nearer to the house. Like a conditioned animal, my body becomes aroused at the knowledge that it will soon be with my captor, while my brain condemns the reaction. I hate this division between my thoughts and physical reactions. I’m at constant war with myself.
Gabriel himself waits on the porch. My heart gives an unwelcome lurch at the sight of his muscular shape. He gets the door and my parcels, the new clothes still unpacked and the price tags intact. Rhett disappears to wherever. The minute he’s gone, Gabriel brushes his lips over the shell of my ear.
“Welcome home.”
The words grate on me. This isn’t my home. My home is with Charlie. What Gabriel is doing to us as a family is wrong. I hurry inside and make my way to my room. A minute later, Gabriel steps inside, standing like a menacing, dark energy at the foot of the bed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Aren’t you happy you got to spend time with your brother?”
I give him a hard look. “Of course I am.”
I start unpacking the clothes, taking my time to fold each item meticulously.
He lets me carry on like this for a while before taking the pile from my hands and leaving it on the bed. “Let’s go for a swim.”
My jaw drops. He’s inviting a house servant for a dip in his pool?
“What do you say, Valentina?”
“I don’t have a bathing suit.”
“You don’t need one.”
Without waiting for a response, he takes my wrist, pulls me through the kitchen and out the backdoor. On the deck, he starts stripping his clothes.
I glance around to make sure we’re alone. “What are you doing?”
“Swimming naked with you.”
“Are you crazy?”
“We’re alone. Magda’s out, and Carly won’t be back before tomorrow.”
Gabriel stands star
k naked and hard in front of me. His scarred body is terrifying in its brutal beauty. The marks on his foot and knee don’t diminish his physical perfection. To me, they add to his appeal, making him breathtakingly perfect in a broken kind of way. Is it the warped attractiveness of imperfection, or is a part of me is just attracted to everything that’s dark and destructive?
Flashing me his rock-hard ass, he walks to the deep end and dives. Water splashes onto the side, the sound reminding me of holidays and stress-free times long gone.
“Come on,” he calls. “The water’s good.”
It’s tempting. It’s been a hot as hell day, and my body feels sticky. I can’t remember the last time I swam.
My gaze travels in the direction of the staff quarters. “Rhett––”
“Rhett won’t come near the house unless I give him an order. Now I’m giving you one. Get in.”
“All right.”
Pulling off my trainers and clothes, I walk to the edge of the pool. The minute our gazes lock, there’s a shift in his. The ice in his eyes makes way for a molten look of heat. Unashamedly, he ogles my breasts and lower. His cock grows enormous under the water. I wish I wasn’t tingling between my legs or that my nipples hadn’t hardened, but I’m as helpless to my reaction as I am to his wordless command when he curls a finger at me. Stepping into the cool water at the shallow end, I leave my guilt and judgment behind. No matter how hard I protest, Gabriel will do whatever he wants. The crazy, unequal power play gives me a measure of absolution.
When I’m up to my waist in the water, he swims to me and grabs a fistful of hair. Pulling my head back to arch my upper body, he latches onto a nipple, and sucks my breast deep into his mouth. I cry out as pain assaults the sensitive tip. Immediately, he pulls back to look at me.
“You usually like that.”
I cup the sore curve. “It’s almost that time of the month. They get overly sensitive.”
He studies my breasts with new interest, taking both into his hands. “They’re bigger.” He jiggles them, making me groan with the discomfort. “And heavier.” His hands move down my sides to my hips, and over my swollen stomach. “When’s your period due?”
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