Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I take a few deep breaths and get a hold on myself. One thing at a time. Dinner first and then packing. I’m breaking the eggs in a bowl when a shadow moves across the curtained window. My heartbeat picks up and warning prickles pop over my skin. Maybe it was someone passing by in the street. Holding my breath, I prick up my ears and sharpen my gaze. No sound comes from outside. There’s no further movement. Several seconds pass with nothing happening. I’m almost letting the air out of my lungs in relief when the doorknob turns.

The action is quiet and ominous. Someone is trying to break in.

I can’t move. Escape. We need to escape, but the door to the shop is locked, and Ru is the only one with a key. Five more seconds and then the adrenalin takes effect. I drop the whisk, looking for a weapon. At the same time, I gauge Charlie’s position. He’s still on the bed, which puts him closer to the door. Grabbing the vegetable knife, I put myself with quiet steps between Charlie and the door. Thank God for Rhett’s self-defense training. My experience is limited, and my physical state is weak. My only chance is to catch our attacker off-guard. As soon as the door opens, I’ll stab. My hand holding the insufficient weapon shakes. Charlie looks up and notices the knife. Before I can silence him, he yells. His scream breaks my concentration. A loud thud falls on the door. The doorframe rattles. Whoever is outside now knows we know he’s there. The element of surprise is lost. There’s no more breaking in quietly. He’s kicking down our door.

When the door flies into the room a horrible spell of déjà vu washes over me. For the second time tonight I’m frozen, but this time I’m frozen in a moment in the past. Like in my memory, Gabriel steps over the broken wood into the room. Rhett and Quincy are on his heels, but I can only focus on the man I ran from and the gun in his hand.

He found us.

He’s going to kill us.

Charlie stares at the three men, confusion marring his features. Since our first violent encounter with Gabriel, after all the visits to Kris’ place, Charlie considers Gabriel a friend. Quincy and Rhett block the only exit while Gabriel crosses the floor with his characteristic limp. He wears a black suit and white shirt without a tie. His body is as broad and big as I remember, and there’s menace in every line of each rigid muscle. The dull light of the room isn’t enough to wash out the scars on his cheek. He missed a haircut or two. Wisps of curls reach his ears.

He stops in front of me and looks down at me with the darkest expression I’ve ever seen. From the way his chest heaves, whatever is going on inside his head is intense. Retribution is intense. So is killing. There’s only one thing I can do to try and save our lives.

I fall down on my knees and fold my arms around his legs. Looking up at him with all the begging I’m capable of, I whisper, “Please, Gabriel.”

The gun in his hand shakes.

I can’t control my shivering. Even my voice trembles. “It’s not Charlie’s fault. Please don’t hurt him.”

“Come on, buddy,” Rhett says, taking Charlie’s arm, “let’s go grab a milkshake.”

“Milk–milkshake.” Charlie doesn’t hesitate. He trusts Gabriel and therefore his friends.

They’re going to shoot my brother in the back alley. I start to cry, hugging Gabriel’s legs harder. “Please don’t hurt him. I’ll do anything, anything you want.”

His stance is passive as he regards me. The only movement is a tick in his temple. “They’re just taking him for a drink.”

So that Gabriel can shoot me without Charlie bearing witness?

Rhett and Quincy exit the room with my brother, leaving me alone with Gabriel. My tears fall faster. My pride won’t let me grovel for myself, but I’ll do anything for my baby. Degrading myself like I’ve never done, I kneel down farther and kiss his feet, my tears spoiling his expensive shoes.

“Please, Gabriel, I beg you. Please, don’t kill us. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry for running, but I didn’t have a choice.”

My breath catches in fear when he grips my hair and guides my head up to meet his eyes again. Caressing my scalp with the barrel of the gun, he takes a plastic bag from his pocket and dangles it in front of my face. “Is this why you ran?”

As my eyes focus on the object, an involuntary gasp escapes my throat. He knows. I lift my gaze slowly back to his. The ice in his blue eyes pierces my heart.

I shake my head, forcing out through dry lips, “I didn’t fall pregnant on purpose. I swear to God. Gabriel, you have to believe me. I don’t know how it happened, but I promise you it was an accident.”

He hooks his hands under my arms and pulls me to my feet. His voice is quiet. Dejected, almost. “I believe you.”

I sag in his arms. How can he be so blasé? The life I carry means nothing to him. He’s still going to kill me. The only question remaining is how. Gathering inhumane strength, I push away and stand up straight. “Are you going to shoot me?”

He regards me with a strange light in his eyes. “No, Valentina, I’m not going to shoot you.”

I lift my chin a fraction, ignoring the warm tears that trickle down my cheeks and drip on my sweater. “How are you going to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Kill me. Strangling? A knife? Poison? Or will you break my neck?”

The ice in his eyes splinters. The fragments turn dark. “I didn’t say I was going to kill you.”

My thin bravery slips. “What then?” I throw the words at him. “Torture me?”

“I prefer to call it punishment.” He grabs my face and digs his fingers into my cheeks. “For running. For putting your life in danger. For not talking to me before stupidly fleeing.”

More tears spill from my eyes, running over his fingers. “I thought you wouldn’t believe me. I knew you’d be angry about the baby.”

His hold slackens. “I am angry about the baby.” His shoulders drop as he lets me go. “You should’ve talked to me.”

He’ll force me to do what I feared all along.

“What now?” I whisper.

“Now I take you back to where you belong. We’ll work through the rest when we’re home.”

Meaning he’ll make me get an abortion. Cupping my hands over my stomach, I take two steps back.

“I beg you, Gabriel.” My lips tremble violently. “Please, don’t hurt my baby.”

When the last word leaves my mouth, the moment freezes. Gabriel’s eyes widen, and his face pales, the color making the embossed scars on his cheek stand out with an angry red. Time stretches as he stares at me in shock. The horror I never wanted to see is etched on his face, giving me insight into his soul. No, he wasn’t taking me home for an abortion. He hoped I would’ve taken care of it, by now. He’s disappointed the problem is still here, growing in my belly.

The spell keeping him immobile breaks, and he limps back to me. We’re two broken people in a twisted situation with an innocent life trapped between us, a life I already love more than my own.

“Please,” I beg when he towers over me, “I’ll take your torture or punishment, and I promise to never run from you again, no matter what, if you let my baby live.”

“Our baby,” he says harshly.

He’s right. It’s his baby, too, but we aren’t two people in a relationship who make consensual decisions. Gabriel decides.

“Yes, our baby,” I agree. “Don’t make me do something I can’t live with. Please.”

“You want this baby,” he says with a tinge of disbelief, “knowing how it’ll complicate your life?”

“It’s not his fault he was conceived. It can’t be undone, and I’ll deal with it, whatever it takes.”

His left eye jumps, and his nostrils flare. I have no idea what he’s thinking, only that it’s upsetting. I understand why he’s unsettled. I know how this must look. Many young girls in my neighborhood got themselves knocked up to catch a man or to escape a debt. It must be hard for him to give me the benefit of the doubt and to battle the idea of becoming an unwilling father.

“I won’t ask anything from you,” I continue hastily, biting back my tears. “I won’t make this problem yours. You have nothing to worry about. I don’t expect your money or time. I will take care of everything. You won’t even know the child is there.”

All I see is incomprehension as he digests my words. For some reason, he seems confused––it’s a lot to take in––but as he doesn’t object immediately, I allow myself to feel hope.

“Please?” I ask softly.

“Why?” is all he asks in return, as if he can’t get his head around my request.

“Because I already love him.”

“Him?”

“I have a feeling it’s a boy.”

He says nothing. We stand, facing each other, while unnamable emotions play off between us. I hold my breath as I wait for his answer. My life, Charlie’s life, and my baby’s life are in Gabriel’s hands. The next word that falls from his mouth will be the verdict that decides my child’s future, the difference between life and death, and I can’t do a goddamn thing about it, because I’m still Gabriel’s property for the next nine years.

The sound I’m waiting for doesn’t come, but he gives me better. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me to his body. The minute his strength envelops me I collapse, my knees caving in while my hands fist in the shirt under his jacket. It doesn’t matter that I can’t stand, because he is there to catch me. I breathe in his spicy and clean scent, enormous relief making me dizzy and, now that I’m no longer alone, also leaving me weak.

“I was so afraid,” I whisper, letting out a tremulous breath and clutching his clothes as if they’re my lifeline. “I was so afraid every day.”

“Shh. I’m here now.”

His hands are broad and strong on my back, and I sink deeper into the strength he provides. The way he holds me is hesitant. I sense he wants to say more, but after another heartbeat, he scoops me up in his arms, snatches my bag from the makeshift table, and carries me to his car.

I know men like him, and I know the gift he just offered is greater than any I could’ve hoped for. More than believing me when I said I didn’t fall pregnant on purpose, he forgave me for running, and he’s allowing me to have a baby he doesn’t want. He didn’t have to. He could’ve dropped me off at a clinic with instructions and fetched me back as his toy. Men like Gabriel don’t do well with pregnant toys. A big belly won’t serve his needs. Or maybe I’m done being his toy. Whatever the case, I’m filled with relief. I lean my head on his chest in gratitude.

He opens the door, lowers me in the passenger seat, and fits my seatbelt. He removes his jacket and dumps the gun in the cubbyhole. The jacket goes on the console between our seats and my bag at my feet. When he takes the wheel, I dare to ask again, “Charlie?”

He squeezes my knee. “Don’t fret, beautiful. He’ll be fine.”

After fastening his seatbelt, he steers us into the traffic and dials Rhett on the hands-free kit with a single instruction. “Take Charlie home.”

I lean my head back, for the first time in three months not worrying about dying. With the earlier adrenalin wearing off, I feel like a washed-out ragdoll. I don’t care about what waits for me at home. All that matters is that we’re safe.

Gabriel cups my neck and pushes my head down in his lap, my body cushioned on his jacket. I keep my eyes open and absorb his power. His thigh muscles bunch under my cheek as he steps on the clutch and changes gears. I watch his enormous hands as he grips the wheel and takes charge of my destination. The feeling I once had of placing myself in his hands, trusting him to be a good driver who’ll bring me safely to my destination, is now real. I rely on him to drive us six hours straight through the night and deliver us home. There’s not a doubt in my mind he’ll navigate any pitfall without falling asleep or crashing the car. Gabriel is too decided, rational, and faultless for that. His chest rises and falls with steady, deep breaths, the reassurance I need that he’s securely on his course and knows what he’s doing. I can let my guard down. For once, I can rely on someone else to take control.

I nestle deeper into his lap, letting his warmth enfold me. Masculinity radiates from the flex of his muscles as he manipulates the powerful engine of the car. He doesn’t break the speed limit, and this further reassures me. He turns up the heater and puts the radio on a classical music station that helps soothe me.

Once on the open road where he doesn’t have to change gears, he brushes a palm over my head, tangling his fingers in my hair. For a while he rubs the tresses between a thumb and forefinger, and then he strokes my shoulder and arm. He runs his hand over my back and comes to a stop on my waist, his fingers playing gently over the side of the bump that used to be my flat stomach. I turn slightly to find a more comfortable position, and Gabriel doesn’t change his hold on me. He keeps his fingertips on the curve of my belly, lightly, yet protectively.

The moon is visible from the passenger side window where it breaks through the clouds. It moves with us, bringing along the milky-way stars. There’s something soothing about the sound of the tires rolling on the tar and the music playing softly in the warm background while I’m cocooned in a strong man’s lap as the cold, dark night speeds past outside. Finally, the comfortable, luxurious safety of it all lulls me to sleep. I fall down a rabbit hole of deep, exhausted, crazy dreams where property like me is cherished.

* * *

All the way from Durban to Johannesburg my insides shake. How easily I could’ve lost her. She’s a survivor, one of the strongest I know, but even survivors eventually run out of luck. This is my fault. This is my backhanded, conniving doing. Valentina ran to protect our baby. She believed I wouldn’t want it. I can’t blame her. From her perspective, I’m the monster, and it’s true. Only a monster would kidnap her, train her to fuck him, and then make her pregnant without her consent. Only a monster would believe the worst of her, expecting her to run to get rid of our child. A good man would’ve seen things for what they are. Valentina isn’t capable of hurting an unborn child, even if that child is a monster’s.

The guilt mauls my mind to pieces all the way home. I hate myself for who I am and for what I’m going to do, because I won’t tell her. I won’t tell Valentina why she fell pregnant. I’m too needy. I want a small part of her affection and approval too much. Why make her hate me more than she already does? Why make it harder on her? It’ll be best for both of us to keep the untruth alive. She never needs to know. This is what I tell myself when I park the car in the driveway.

While she was sleeping, I called Magda to let her know the status of the situation. I also checked with Rhett on how Charlie was doing. They were behind me by one hour. I instructed them to let Charlie sleep at the guardhouse when they arrive. It was a long twelve-hour drive to Durban and back, but I barely feel the strain. Superhuman strength drives me where my woman and child are concerned. A glance at the dash clock tells me it’s three in the morning. The house is quiet, everyone asleep. Just as well. I want time alone with Valentina before facing Magda and the rest of the staff.

My precious bundle stirs when I lift her from the car and carry her inside, but I press her face to my chest, urging her not to break her sleep. I take her upstairs and lie her down on my bed, trying not to disturb her too much when I remove her clothes. After undressing, I get under the covers beside her and pull her to my chest. My body molds around hers, every part just like I remember, except for the soft curve of her stomach that presses deeper into my groin. The rest of her has lost weight. Her bony shoulders and thin arms cut straight into my conscience, and still I’m perverse enough to grow hard. I want to both possess her and revere her by not touching her. With all the willpower I possess, I force my dick down. For now, her mind is in a subconscious world, and like the bastard I am, I hold her naked body close while she can’t deny me.

* * *

Wakefulness pulls at me, but I’m not ready to open my eyes. I’m still in my cocoon, warm and safe, only, now it’s softer and more comfortable. Slowly, reality returns. I’m in a bed, in a pair of strong arms. Naked. I lift my eyelids to find Gabriel watching me. Immediately, I tense. When is he going to order me to the gym for my punishment? As stiffness invades my muscles, his eyes grow hard, and his deformed face twists into a cold mask, but he doesn’t loosen his hold.

His voice is clipped. “How do you feel?”

I sweep my hair behind my ear, self-conscious about our nakedness. It’s been three months and my body has changed. “Fine, thank you.”

“Stay.” He throws the duvet off his body, but makes sure I’m covered.

His chiseled ass bunches, and the muscles in his broad back flex as he walks to the bathroom. A second later, the water in the shower comes on.

Not sure what to do, I look around the familiar room. The same medical equipment from before is still here. I’m not going to lie in bed awaiting my punishment naked. I get up and walk to the closet to borrow one of his T-shirts so I can make it to my room with my modesty intact, but when I open the top drawer my T-shirts are neatly folded on the shelf. So are my underwear, shorts, and nightdresses. Drawer after drawer holds my clothes as well as new garments I’ve never seen. I lift a blouse to read the label. Everything is in my size, or at least my pre-pregnancy size. Baffled, I go through the closet. My jeans, dresses, jackets, and pants are organized by colors.

“Those won’t fit, now,” his deep voice says behind me.

I jump and twirl around. Gabriel stands in the door, a towel wrapped around his waist and his chest wet with drops of water. Instinctively, I cover my breasts and below my stomach, a warm flush working its way over my body. Without looking at my naked parts, he takes a T-shirt from the top shelf and hands it to me. It’s one of his.

“We’ll have to do some shopping,” he says.

I pull the T-shirt over my head hastily. Thankfully, the hem reaches my knees. I motion at the cupboards. “I don’t understand.”

“I had your things moved over.”

“Why?”

He takes down a shirt and drops the towel. I have to look away as he starts to dress. “We’ll rectify the clothes situation as soon as possible. I apologize about that.”

More confused than ever, I say, “You couldn’t know. That I’m still pregnant, I mean.”

The look he gives me is a strange one. A shadow invades his eyes. He pulls on a pair of slacks, not bothering with underwear.

“How did you find out?” I ask carefully.

“Rhett was worried about you.”

“Ah.” It’s a nice way of telling me Rhett ratted on me without blaming Rhett.

Feeling increasingly uncomfortable, I find a pair of panties and borrow one of Gabriel’s sweatpants with an elastic waistband that accommodates my rounder waistline. I have to roll the pants up several times.

“Back to bed,” he says with a dark expression.

I can’t stand the tension, any longer. “Gabriel…”

He turns to me. “Valentina?”

“Just take me to the gym and get it over with.”

For one second, two seconds, three seconds he stares at me, then he crosses the floor and puts his hands on my shoulders. “I’ll never hurt you while you’re pregnant.”

The air leaves my lungs in a gush. I’m relieved, but not reassured. “Only after?”

He doesn’t answer. He only points at the bed and makes me get back in.

“Don’t move.”

“Charlie?”

“Later.”

He kisses my forehead and leaves the room. What am I supposed to do? Sleep? Not ready to test Gabriel’s patience, I stay put. The door opens not five minutes later, and Marie enters with a tray. She gives me a scowl and dumps it on the nightstand. There are eggs, bacon, toast, baked beans, and coffee. The smell of the food makes me feel sick, but I fight it down. Before I can say thank you, she’s gone.

Gabriel doesn’t leave me alone for long. When he returns, it’s with Dr. Engelbrecht. A frown runs over his features when he looks at the untouched food, but he doesn’t say anything. The doctor runs tests similar to the ones I took in Durban and notes everything on his computer.

“I know it’s hard when you’re feeling sick,” the doctor says, “but if you don’t want intravenous feeding, you’ll have to eat something.”

“She’ll try,” Gabriel says.

Once the doctor is gone, Gabriel gives me a piercing look. “Put on your coat and shoes.”

“Where are we going?”

He takes his jacket off the clotheshorse, but doesn’t answer.

I don’t have a choice but to obey and follow him to his car. Before starting the engine, he kisses the knuckle of my amputated thumb and places my hand on his thigh. We drive in silence. It’s only when we park outside a redbrick building that I dare to question him again.

“Gabriel, what’s going on?”

He turns off the engine and faces me squarely, his body a block of hard muscle that takes up all the space on his side of the car. Tightening his fingers on mine, as if he’s expecting me to pull away, he says in an unwavering voice, “We’re getting married.”