That afternoon, Gabriel goes out on a job and doesn’t return for dinner. I’m already in bed when I hear his uneven gait in the kitchen. Rummaging sounds come from the pantry. If he’s hungry, I left his food in the oven. I’m not ready to face him, but I can’t put it off indefinitely. Rather now, than later.

Entering the scullery, I forget my apprehension. Gabriel is removing a bloody shirt over the basin, the medicine kit balanced on the edge.

“Gabriel!”

I run to him, my eyes doing a quick evaluation of his state. There’s a cut in his shoulder through which blood is oozing and several scrapes on his stomach and ribs.

He presses the shirt to the wound and opens the tap. “Shh. Where’s Carly?”

“She went to bed after dinner. What happened?” I take the shirt from him and dump it in the trashcan. It’s torn and stained beyond saving.

“Business.”

He flinches when I touch the wound to assess how deep the cut is.

“This needs stitches. Where are Rhett and Quincy?”

“I sent them to bed. It’s not that serious.” He flashes me an amused smile. “But your concern is flattering.”

“This is no time for jokes.” Taking disinfectant and sterile gauzes from the medicine kit, I start cleaning the wound.

“Good thing blood doesn’t make you queasy.”

I don’t return his smile. I don’t even want to think what sinister activity earned him these injuries.

“Give me a needle and thread,” he orders.

Only Gabriel will keep sterile needles and surgical thread in his medicine kit. I locate the items and hold them out to him. He takes a vanity mirror from the shelf and balances it on the counter. I watch as he pulls the thread through the eye of the needle, but when he angles himself toward the mirror and pushes the needle through the skin at the top of the cut, I take over. He lets me, studying me as I work to sew him back together. I’m no nurse. I’m not even a vet, but I’ve watched Kris stitch up cuts plenty of times. He winces, but he doesn’t say a word until the cut is closed and dressed.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I dispose of the used materials and scrub the basin and my hands with disinfectant. When I’m done, I give him a painkiller and anti-inflammatory with a glass of water. He drinks the pills without protest. Fine lines of fatigue mark his eyes and the corners of his mouth. His permanent frown lines run deeper than usual. Taking his hand, I lead him to my bathroom.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Getting the blood off you. You should be worried about catching AIDS.”

He grins. “Next time, I’ll wear surgical gloves.”

I snort. He lets me undress him while the water runs warm. I have to undress as well so my clothes don’t get wet, but the shower in my bath is too small for both of us to stand comfortably. When I’m with him in the shower, he has to drape me over his body or hold me in his arms. I angle the water away from his wound, and wash the rest of his body, trying to be gentle on his abdomen where he’s bruised. When he’s clean, I wrap a towel around his waist and take another to pat him dry. I have to stand on the toilet to reach his hair. Judging by the teeth he flashes me, he finds my care amusing, but he doesn’t interfere or take over. I dry his back, chest, and arms, and then I go down on my knees to rub the towel up his legs. There are so many muscles on these legs. They knit together in rigid lines, defining the man’s hard exterior with an accurate mirror image of what lies inside his soul.

As I’m pushing to my feet, he prevents me with his hands on my shoulders. I look up. He’s devouring me with his eyes, his cock tenting the towel at my eye level.

“Valentina.”

There’s a plea in the way he says my name. I can’t help but want to please him. My reply to his unspoken question is to tug on the towel and let it fall to the floor. I take him in my mouth, and like always, he lets me do whatever I want. I suck him as deep as I can take, eating him hungrily. He groans and dips his knees, giving himself over to me. I take his pleasure like I own it, like it’s his duty to give it up to me. He’s breathing hard when I’m done, but so am I. He hooks his hands under my arms to help me to my feet, pressing our lips together, and dipping his tongue into my mouth like he always does when I’ve swallowed his seed. He growls deep from his chest as he sucks on my tongue. The primal sound makes liquid heat gather between my thighs. I’m impossibly slick, my body preparing itself for his invasion, an invasion that’s yet to come.

After drying the water that splashed on me while I washed Gabriel, I take him to my bed, and make him lie down on his back to avoid putting pressure on his shoulder. I curl up against his side with my head on the uninjured side of his chest.

“Why did you do it?” he asks.

“Do what?”

“Take care of me.”

“I don’t know.” Deep inside, I wanted to. It frightened me to see him hurt.

“It doesn’t matter.” He cups my sex, stroking a thumb over my clit. “It was sweet.”

He delves a finger into my wetness, teasing and torturing me until he drags a long and slowly detonating orgasm from my body.

Later, as he holds me in his arms, I say, “Gabriel?”

“Mm?”

“Are you ever afraid of dying?”

He answers without hesitation. “Every day.”

The big, strong man next to me suddenly seems too vulnerable for my liking. “The scars, are they from fights like today?”

He gives a low chuckle. “You didn’t think I was born all ugly, did you?”

I cup his cheek. “That’s not what I said. I just tend to think of you as indestructible. Untouchable.”

He places his hand over mine and rubs his cheek against my palm. “I’m not untouchable, Valentina. I’m far from it.” He moves my hand to his chest. “I do have a heart.”

I kiss the flat disk of his nipple and put my ear on his chest, just for good measure. The beat is strong and rhythmic. It sounds sure and secure. I have to believe nothing will happen to him. If he’s gone, our nine-year deal is off, and I’m dead. Magda won’t honor the agreement. Of that, I’m certain.

I push up on one elbow to trace the embossed lines on his face. “Tell me how it happened.”

He catches my hand. “Not tonight.”

“Nothing?” I ask with a tinge of disappointment. I want to know his history. I want to understand the man inside the sadist.

“All you need to know is that I regret them.” He moves my palm to the bandage strip covering the cut on his shoulder. “For this scar, on the other hand, I’m eternally grateful. I hope it never fades.”

“Why?”

“Now it’s a reminder of you.” He kisses my temple. “Go to sleep. It’s late.”

The balance that started shifting between us from the day he bought me food tips to the one side of the scale, the side where affection surpasses the physical. There’s no denying it, any longer. I’m starting to care for my jailer. Maybe I’m suffering from Stockholm syndrome. Not that it matters how or why it happened. Whatever sparked my feelings, they’re real.

When I wake up sometime in the middle of the night, he’s gone. I don’t even have a scar to run my finger over, no raised tissue on the surface of my skin that can make me feel closer to him. All I have are the marks he’s leaving on my heart.

My period is over. My breasts and womb are no longer sensitive, but my body is primed with a powerful arousal that won’t grant me relief. The orgasms Gabriel gives me are no longer enough. He made me like this, a pathetic addict who needs, craves, and aches, and still he denies me the remedy, even when I beg. I lie in the dark for a long time, trying to make myself come. It’s not my fingers, my touch, I need. It’s not even Gabriel’s touch. I want him inside me. I don’t care that he’s ruined me or that he still holds my life in his hands. He’s conditioned me, and I’m at the end of how far I can go. I’m at the edge of a dark abyss, and even if I fear the plunge, I can’t turn back. Getting out of bed, I pad barefoot through the dark house.

He won.

Again.

---

Leaving Valentina in her bed is becoming harder. I want her next to me all night. It’s an impractical and dangerous notion. If Carly sees us or Magda suspects I’m taking it further than the game I claim, I stand losing both my daughter and the woman who dominates every minute of my waking hours and even my dreams. The alarm beeps, pulling me from my thoughts.

The red dot on the bedside monitor warns me of movement in the house. Our security is top-notch, but even the best systems are breached. I check the doors and windows on the monitor. No entrances have been compromised. It can be Carly or Magda. Still, I’m not taking any chances. Whoever is moving through my house is at my door. The creak of a floorboard confirms the information on the screen.

I reach for the gun on the nightstand. When the door opens with a soundless swing, I take aim. My finger freezes on the trigger. It’s Valentina’s slender form that fills the doorframe. A bolt of shock runs through me for how easily I could’ve shot her. I lower the weapon. The fight leaves my body, but my muscles don’t relax. They’re tense with a different kind of anticipation. Her white negligee glows pearly in the moonlight. She’s staring at me, biting her lip. Putting the pistol back on the nightstand, I flick on the lamp for a better view.

I know what she wants. We both know why she’s here.

I told myself I couldn’t do it, and yet, I’ve never wanted anything more. I’ve belted and spanked her without breaking a molecule on her skin, but if I take her tonight, I won’t only break her virgin body, but also my promise. Call me a weak man, but I already lost the battle the night Rhett locked me in the gym. It was only a matter of time. Tonight is a night for broken promises.

I hold out my hand. “Come here.”

She walks to the bed and crawls over me. Every inch of my skin catches fire. By the time her pussy is resting on my crotch, I’m a live wire, ready to explode, but I hold back, giving her control, because she came to me and it’s the sweetest moment of my entire fucked up life.

I’m not a man to make small talk or beat around the bush. Especially not when something as serious as this is about to happen. When she doesn’t move for several beats, seeming uncertain of where to go from here, I roll us over, pinning her underneath me.

“Get rid of the clothes.” I give her just enough space to pull the negligee over her head.

Impatient, I pull the panties down for her, and she kicks them free. She wiggles my pajama bottoms over my hips to my knees. I have to lift first one and then the other leg to get rid of them. Stretched out on top of her, naked, static sparks detonate in every cell of my body. My cock is heavy and painfully hard, cushioned between her soft thighs. My balls ache from too many weeks of celibacy and not enough hand and blowjobs. The need to drive into her is so fierce that I have to grit my teeth.

I slip my hand down our bodies and dip my fingers between her legs. She doesn’t need foreplay. She’s dripping wet. For me. The nights of training her body to want and need me are like one long endless stretch of foreplay, and finally, it’s about to explode. I’ve sucked and tweaked her tits, eaten her pussy, and played with her clit for weeks. What’s left is to give her every inch of my cock. Once I’m inside her, there’s no turning back. Her body belongs to me, but when I’m done fucking her, her soul will be mine. Once my seed spills in her womb, no other man will touch her again. Not tomorrow. Not when her nine years are up. Never.

Spreading her pussy lips with my fingers, I push the head of my cock against her entrance. My head spins as if I’m on a high. I keep my eyes open. I want to see her face the moment I sink into her. I want to remember her expression. I want to know what she looks like when she comes on my dick, and what she feels when I mark her inside with my cum.

She meets my stare head-on, as bravely as I thought she would, and takes my face between her hands.

“Gabriel…” She inhales deeply.

There’s hesitation in her voice. I’m ready. So is she, or she wouldn’t be here. The only thing preventing me from tearing into her is the air trapped in her lungs along with her unspoken words.

“Say it,” I grit out, my need painful.

Placating my libido, I grind down on her pubic bone. The tip of my shaft edges forward, dipping into the slick heat that waits. Almost violently, I jerk back before I lose all reason and fuck her before she’s spoken.

“I know you think I’m a virgin,” she says softly, “but I’m not.”

For a moment, I’m shocked to a pause. How could I have been so wrong? My judgment concerning a woman’s body is always on the mark. All this time, I punished myself, withholding from her, making promises I couldn’t keep. To think I almost let Quincy have her. I shake the thought. It’s not where I want to take my mind, right now. Whoever her lover was, the asshole didn’t know how to get her off. In that regard, I’m definitely her first. Anyway, I don’t care who her first was. It doesn’t matter, because I’ll be her last. It makes no difference to me if she’s a holy virgin or a whore.

“I don’t care,” I say gruffly, grabbing my shaft and directing it to the place that will give me access to her soul. It’s when you take a woman, when you make her fall apart in your arms, that you see the nakedness of her heart, and all the truths she hides from the world.

“It doesn’t matter to you?” she asks with a tinge of disbelief.

“Of course not.” I nip at her ear. “Why would it? I’m no virgin, either.”

“I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”

Disappointed? Is she crazy? “Believe me, nothing about this,” I rub my dick over her slick folds, “can be disappointing.”

A sob tears from her throat. It catches me so off-guard I almost miss the flash of terror that sparks in her eyes.

“Valentina.” I pull back an inch. “If you’re not ready, you have to tell me now.” I used seduction as my weapon to lure her into my bed with good reason. There’s no pleasure in it for me if it’s by force.

“Is that why you waited? You thought I’m not ready?”

“You know why I waited. What are you really asking?”

“Do you…?” She bites her lip. “Do you want me? I mean, do you want me like this?”

“Goddamn, Valentina. This isn’t an act of kindness or a favor. The reason you’re here is because I wanted you from the moment I first saw you, and a second from now I’m going to fuck you like I’ve been wanting to for a very long time, so you better tell me if you’re having second thoughts.”

“It’s not that.” She sounds ashamed. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Wait…” If she’s not a virgin, but she doesn’t know what to do? A cold feeling of rage unfurls in my gut. Bitterness fills my mouth. The truth lodges like a stake in my heart. “You were raped.”

“Yes,” she whispers, “but it was a long time ago.”

The pace of my breathing quickens, changing direction. I go from turned on to raving mad. Fucking furious. I’ll kill the son of a bitch with my bare hands, peel his skin from his body, and cut his muscles from his bones. Forcing back my emotions, I let go of my cock, easing up to cup her cheek.

Calmly, so as not to frighten her with the force of my anger, I ask, “Only once?” while holding my breath for the answer.

“Only once.”

“When?”

She turns her head to the side.

I won’t let it go. I need to know. “Look at me.”

She obeys, her eyes begging me not to push, but the more she holds back, the more uneasy I get.

I brush my thumb over her cheek. “When?”

She purses her lips and stares at me with big eyes, as if I’m going to judge her. “I was thirteen.”

When I lay my hands on that motherfucker he’s going to suffer. There’s only one question left to ask. “Who?”

“I don’t know.”

She’s not lying. She doesn’t blink or look away, and her pupils don’t dilate. She was a random victim. I’ll find and kill him for her. If she wants to, I’ll give her the gun and let her shoot him herself. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make the bastard pay.

I kiss her lips. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know.”

I’m glad she told me. This will require a different skill and attitude. Technically, she may not be a virgin, but physically, emotionally, and mentally she’s the virgin I took her for.

Easing over her body, I cup her jaw and hold her in place for my kiss, bruising our lips together. She gasps into my mouth, but lets me take control. As she can’t move her jaw, I’m the one nipping, sucking, and molding my lips around hers, taking and giving and making the moment mine. After a while, she starts fighting me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me down for a deeper kiss, her tongue tangling with mine in an urgency that sets me ablaze. I shift my palm from her jaw to her neck, squeezing with dominant control. She embraces the touch, arching up into my hand. I pin her to the mattress with that commanding hold while I shift to her nipples, starting a slow seduction of tongue and teeth on every erogenous zone of her body. I nip the insides of her elbows and bite into the flesh where her pussy meets her thigh. I drag my tongue over the insides of her legs and dig my fingers into her ass, pulling the curvy flesh apart so I can lick down her crack to her pussy. By the time I’ve kissed my way from her feet to her mound, her legs are wrapped around me, and she’s sliding her wet sex over my cock, seeking the friction that will bring her release.

“I want you,” she whispers, breathing beauty into my room. “I want you, Gabriel. Please.”

A low groan vibrates in my chest. She’s begging me. She wants me like no other woman has wanted me before––not for my money or protection, but to ease the need I so carefully planted and nurtured inside of her. Her pleasure is mine, and I’m keeping it forever.

“Oh, God, please.” She digs her nails into my back. “Fuck me, already.”

We’re both out of control. I need to be lucid, or I risk hurting her, but she has me by the balls––literally––dragging her sharp nails from my sac up my ass and sending me way beyond sanity.

I grip my shaft and squeeze the root hard, praying the bite of pain will keep me within reason. Pushing up on one arm, I pull myself from the vice of her thighs and part her legs with my knee. When she’s wide and open, I take only a second to enjoy the sight before I lodge the head of my cock in her pussy. Her lips spread wide around my girth, stretching to accommodate all of me. I have precious little control left.

“Look at me,” I demand.

She opens her eyes. They’re hazy with desire and smoky with need, but they’re focused on me. I rest my elbows on the mattress so I can cup her face between my hands, needing to catch her expressions like a prayer between my palms. The movement shoves me another inch into her. She gasps, and her eyes widen. She’s tight and hot, her unused channel already pushing to expel the foreign object lodged in her entrance. I push deeper, feeling her like a velvet fist around me. I’m big, and she’s fragile, small. Her slickness helps, but it’s like pushing into a narrow chamber of hot, melting lava. The deeper I go, the more she squirms. I see it all in her face––the shock, pain, trust, and all-consuming need.

Sweat beads on my brow and torso. My skin is on fire. Her breaths explode from her chest.

“Gabriel…”

It’s a plea for mercy. It’s moving too slow. I can drag out the discomfort or make it hurt hard and quick before fucking it all better. Pulling back until only the head of my cock is held in place by the stretching muscle in her opening, I hold on to her face tightly and drive home. Tearing through feminine tissue, I bury myself inside her body as far as I can go. It’s the moment I’ve been dreaming of, of hearing her sounds, seeing her surrender, inhaling the scent of our sex, and feeling her body stretch for my cock. She’s shaking, her fingers digging into my hips.

“It’s almost over, beautiful. It won’t hurt for long.” I kiss her jaw and move, taking her with long, careful strokes until her body surrenders just like her mind, her tight channel embracing my dick rather than pushing it out.

Her moans turn to panting. It’s music to my ears. When she throws her head back, I let go of her face, holding only her eyes. I play with her body, petting her breasts and clit as I stroke deeper and faster, taking everything she can give, everything that makes Valentina a woman. I knead and massage until she’s soft and pliant in my arms. She molds like wet, earthy clay under my touch, until her hips start moving to the rhythm of my fingers on her clit.

And then it’s over.

She breaks.

Her body sucks me deeper, catching my cock in a trap of painful ecstasy. Her pupils dilate like shooting stars, and her gaze flies away from me like a comet as she comes and leaves a burning trail in my soul. In this moment, she can ask me anything, and I will bust my balls to give it. I’ll fetch her the moon and the stars, if that’s what she wants, but she only says, “Hold me,” and I give her what she desires.

---

Gabriel’s arms are safe around me. He’s given me uncountable orgasms, but this one was different. This one was deeper and more intense, stirring the buried emotions I haven’t had the courage to look at for so long. After my assault, I shied away from men. The event prevented me from exploring my sexuality. I was afraid to go down that road in the fear of uprooting everything I experienced that awful night, but what I shared with Gabriel was nothing like that. It was a carnal, guilt-free, and necessary need. He took my freedom and made my body a slave to his, but right now, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. This is where I belong. This is where he belongs. As much as he took me, I took a part of him, too. I took something of him for myself, and I’ll always keep it in my heart. I feel connected to him as I lie in his embrace, enjoying the afterglow of my orgasm. Now that I’ve had him inside me, I’m hungrier than ever for more. I’m starving for information that goes beyond the sex we share. I want to know why his beautiful physique is broken. I want to know everything about him.

I slide my hand down his body to trace the scar on his knee. Maybe he’ll tell me tonight. “How did this happen?”

“Got my kneecap shot away by one of our rivals,” he says matter-of-factly.

“And this?” I stroke his hip.

“Baseball bat.”

“And this?” As I’m about to cup his cheek, he catches my hand.

“Shrapnel. Explosion. A debtor tried to blow us up with the building where he was laundering the money he stole from us.”

“Did he survive?”

He gives me a forced smile. “What do you think?”

“Have you ever considered having it fixed?” I ask as gently as I can.

He replies in a cold voice. “This is fixed.”

Horror, not because of the ugliness, but because of the sadness, invades me. How did he look before, if this is after?

He utters a small sigh. “My bones were crushed. Underneath the skin, there’s mostly metal. The risk of the muscles collapsing with more plastic surgery is too high.”

I wrap my arms around his waist, holding him tight to me. Saying his mask of pain doesn’t bother me will only sound frivolous, even if it’s true.

I rest my cheek on his chest. “Your foot?”

All of his muscles go tense. It takes him several seconds before he relaxes under me again. Just when I thought he wasn’t going to tell me, he says, “My mother shot me.”

I barely manage to swallow my gasp. “Why?”

His tone is flat. “When I turned twelve, she gave me a gun and told me to shoot a man. I couldn’t.”

A lump in my throat restricts my speaking. I can’t imagine the kind of childhood he had. A part of me relates to that and understands. There’s quiet accord between us as we hold and comfort each other, two damaged people with different scars.

---

It’s still dark when Gabriel wakes me with a kiss on the mouth. I stretch, feeling the roughness of his loving in the tenderness between my legs, even if he’s been as gentle as I guess he can be.

“Good morning.” He nips my bottom lip.

His cock is hard against my hip, a reminder of last night and of what I can have again.

“Gabriel.” My voice is breathy.

He chuckles. “If I weren’t so concerned about not letting you sleep enough, I would’ve been buried between your thighs an hour ago.”

I shiver at the thought, desire making me wet.

A shadow creeps into his eyes. “You have to go. Carly will be up soon.”

It’s a logical comment, but it hurts, and that’s a surprise. Maybe it’s because creeping down the dark hallway like I have something to hide, like what I did with Gabriel belongs to the shadows, kills the emotional upsurge of last night.

“You’re right.” I sit up, clutching the sheet to my breasts.

Groping around under the sheets, I find my nightgown and underwear and pull them on. As I swing my feet off the bed, he grabs my arm. I pause, but I don’t look back at him. I’m scared he’ll see what I feel in my eyes. That I care.

He kisses my shoulder and brushes his lips up the curve of my neck to my ear. When he releases me, I take it as my cue to leave. I close his bedroom door quietly behind me and glance down the hallway to make sure it’s clear before I sneak back to my room. The room looks empty and cold. Out of nowhere, I have an attack of inexplicable loneliness, followed by a bout of guilt because Oscar is sleeping alone on my pillow.

I pick him up and hug him to my chest. “Poor baby. I’m sorry I left you all alone last night.”

He purrs and rubs his face against my jaw, not halfway as unsettled as I am.

---

There’s not much information in the country Anton can’t lay his hands on, so when he tells me Lambert Roos’ phone records have been wiped, I know the rat I smelled is real. I order Anton to dig into Lambert’s history, present and past, and to flag anything suspicious that comes up, especially pertaining to the Haynes family. Lambert did business with Marvin. I want to know why he stopped brokering the car cloning business after Marvin’s accident. I also want to know who Valentina’s rapist is, but I’ll have to get more information from her, a delicate situation I don’t look forward to. I already checked the police records. The family didn’t report her rape. My own research produced nothing helpful.

The remainder of my time is dedicated to preparing for tonight’s dinner meeting. Despite her protests, I ship Carly off to Sylvia for the weekend. I don’t want her around for the dinner party, not with the guests Magda invited. We’ll be catering for the Ferreira drug cartel men, Jeremy, the owner, and his son and future heir, Diogo. It’s tough enough stomaching the political pawns Magda likes to entertain. I don’t like hosting drug thugs in our home, but Magda is wheeling a deal to open a new financing franchise in Westdene, the heart of Jeremy’s territory.

From the minute they walk through the door, I dislike them. Jeremy has the close-set eyes of a crocodile who acts asleep to snatch his non-suspecting prey. He grabs my hand in a jovial shake, treating me like his long-lost son, while Diogo, a smooth, handsome man in his late twenties, gives me a measuring look that tells me he finds me too short, not in the literal sense, of course. He may be ten years younger than me and blessed with a whole body, but I have years of experience over him and a darkness he can’t begin to understand.

They kiss Magda’s hand and accept the cocktails and hors d’oeuvres she offers in the lounge. Their chitchat and pretense at civility irritate me. If it was up to me, I would’ve cut through the bullshit and gotten to the point. We want exclusivity in their area. They want our money. Simple. We pay a kickback, and no other loan sharks get in. A deal also guarantees that we don’t fuck with them, and they don’t kill our men.

Magda navigates through a whole family tree of questions about their wives, kids, grandmothers, and whatnot before she finally announces dinner is served. The tux I’m wearing for the occasion, these affairs being sordidly formal, is too hot. I hook a finger between my neck and the collar of my evening shirt and tug. The bowtie gives marginally, but I only breathe easier when Valentina walks into the room in her somber black dress and hair pulled back in a neat bun in the nape of her neck.

I watch her unabashedly as she serves our starters. The curve of her neck is long and elegant. Her fingers are slender, but they serve with efficient and sure movements, not spilling a drop of the gazpacho soup. A smell of raspberry fills my nostrils as she brushes past me, the fabric of her dress touching my chair. She’s present in all of my senses, even in my thoughts with a memory of how her body surrendered to mine last night. My cock hardens. It’s a good thing we’re seated.

It’s hard to tear my attention away from her, but I need to concentrate on the negotiation and the subtle nuances of the conversation. I’m good at reading body language. I may not say much, but if our partners try to fuck us over, I’m always the first to get the hunch. With difficulty, I return my attention to the people seated at the opposite side of the table, but as I lift my eyes, I notice the way Diogo stares at Valentina. Anger explodes in my body and courses through my veins. The only thing that prevents me from reaching over the table and drowning him in his bowl of soup is that Valentina leaves the room, cutting his ogling short. I can’t wait for this night to be over.

Halfway through the main meal, we come to an agreement. The minute we shake hands on the deal, Magda’s tenseness evaporates. She becomes the engaging hostess she’s known for, drawing Jeremy into a friendly argument about the opposing rugby teams they support. Diogo asks for directions to the bathroom and excuses himself.

The skin between my shoulder blades pinches. I push back my chair. “Excuse me. I’m going to check on dessert.”

Magda shoots me a look, but I’m blind to the annoyance in her eyes. My soles are quiet in the carpeted hallway. In the entrance to the kitchen, I come to an abrupt halt. Valentina has her back pushed against the wall and a kitchen knife aimed at Diogo.