The first digit of my thumb is gone. I cut it just above the metacarpal bone. My mind switches down, and my body goes into automatic functioning mode. I open the cold-water tap and hold my hand under the stream. Water-diluted blood swirls down the drain. The first thing in reach is a clean drying cloth. I turn off the tap and wrap the cloth tightly around my hand to stop the bleeding. I switch off the slicer by the wall and, careful of the blades, go through the reservoir until I find my severed thumb. I feel sick and dizzy, like I’m about to vomit and pass out, but adrenalin keeps me going. After putting the top of my thumb in the mini icebox, I retrieve an icepack from the freezer for my right hand. I grab my purse with my identity card and walk through the house, looking for someone, but only Carly is in her room.

“My dad’s out,” she says without looking up from her book.

I can’t afford an ambulance, and I don’t have medical insurance. Private insurance costs a fortune in this country. I’ll take my chances with the public hospital, but I need a ride.

I go out the front and find Rhett by the door. “I need a lift to the hospital. Can you please drive me?”

He takes one look at the bloodstained cloth around my hand, and takes the car keys from his pocket. He opens the door for me and helps me into the Mercedes.

“Joburg Gen is the nearest,” I say.

He nods and steers the car down the road with a speed that will most likely get us killed before we arrive at the hospital. On the way, he dials Gabriel on voice commands via the hands-free kit and is directed to his voicemail.

“It’s Rhett. I’m driving Valentina to the Joburg Gen. She…” He looks at me.

“Cut my finger,” I fill in for him.

“I’ll keep you posted.” He disconnects and dials another number to instruct a guard to take up his post by the Louw residence front door.

When he hangs up, he shoots me a sidelong glance. “You okay?”

“Yes.” As if on cue, the pain intensifies. I lean back and purse my lips. My hand is throbbing like a giant heart.

The emergency entrance drive is blocked with vehicles, so we go to the underground parking. The state of the place comes as a shock. Garbage litters the surface up to my ankles. We take the lift to the emergency floor, and when we exit, I’m halted by the rows of people sitting on the floor in the hallway, all looking ten times worse than me. Some of them have gaping wounds, and others have invisible ailments that seem no less fatal judging by the lifeless shine of their eyes. The corridor stinks of vomit and urine. I haven’t seen the inside of a hospital since the age of ten when I fell and needed stitches on my head. This makes me never want to come back. We walk past a man with a fracture, the bone sticking through his skin. Another one has a gush in his arm so deep, I can see the tendons. The woman next to him has a broken beer bottle still lodged in her cheek. Violence screams at us as far as we go.

I feel for Rhett’s hand with my good one, clutching his fingers as we make our way through misery and despair to a front desk where a bored-looking nurse looks up.

“What’s your problem, love?”

When I sway, Rhett catches me. “I cut my finger.”

She pushes a clipboard with a form across the counter. “Fill that out.” She scratches her head with a pencil and points at an area at the far back. “Waiting area’s over there.”

We pass an examination room. A naked man lies on a bare mattress. He’s handcuffed to the iron bedpost. A nurse is washing blood from his legs. The floors are dirty, and the walls are stained. There are no pillows, sheets, or dividers. Our eyes connect. I avert mine quickly, but feel his follow me until we’re out of sight.

All the seats are taken, but I don’t want to risk sitting on the germ-infected floor. Rhett takes the pencil from me and calls out the questions while I tell him what to write.

From the way the cloth is soaking up the blood, the bleeding hasn’t stopped. I’m starting to feel the effect of the blood loss, or maybe it’s delayed shock that’s making me feel like fainting.

“Come on,” Rhett says gently, taking my arm to lead me back to the reception desk when the questionnaire is completed.

The nurse takes the form, but is in conversation with a colleague and doesn’t look up to acknowledge us.

“How long does she have to wait?” Rhett asks tightly.

“What’s that, love?”

He jerks his head toward the long line of people. “How long?”

She chuckles. “See that man over there?” She points at the one with the gash in his arm. “He’s been waiting for twelve hours.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but there’s no point. These people are in as much need, if not more, than me.

I touch his arm and say softly, “I think we should do it at home.” I won’t be able to hold the severed piece in place and stitch. “Can you help me?”

The nurse’s attention is already on her colleague again. They’re laughing together, sharing a joke.

He nods at my hand. “Show me.”

I unwrap the cloth slowly to reveal my thumb. Blood pumps from the digit as if bubbling from an underground fountain.

Rhett blanches. “Jesus Christ.” He sweeps me up in his arms and starts walking with long strides back in the direction from where we came.

“Rhett! What are you doing?”

“There’s a private clinic in Brixton. It’s only seven kilometers from here.”

“I don’t have medical aid. I can’t afford a private clinic.”

“I’ll pay.” He shifts my weight in his arms. “Don’t worry about the money, okay? I’m not leaving you in this dump for one second longer.”

“We can do it at home,” I insist.

He doesn’t say anything, but the hard set of his jaw tells me he disagrees.

Twenty minutes later, we’re going through the same procedure at the Garden Clinic, but the change is remarkable. The building is clean and sterile. A nurse takes charge of me the minute we enter, and no less than ten minutes after Rhett put down the cash for my treatment—which was required upfront—I’m wearing a hospital robe, lying on a gurney outside the operating room. Rhett is pacing the hallway, his figure passing from left to right and back in front of the door window, his phone stuck to his ear. The doctor who introduces himself as the surgeon tells me the good news is that he can try to save my thumb, thanks to my foresight to recover and bring the missing piece. As they start pushing me toward the operating room, the door slams into the wall, and Gabriel rushes into the corridor, his limp heavy and his short hair messy.

“Excuse me,” the doctor exclaims. “You can’t barge in here.”

He doesn’t look at the doctor. He finds my eyes and holds them. “She’s with me.”

“I don’t care if she’s with the queen of England.”

Gabriel’s blue eyes grow hard. His face sets into a frightening mask, and when he turns it on the doctor he says in a cold voice, “I’m staying with her.”

Gabriel reaches for my uninjured hand, but the doctor cuts him short.

“Get out or I’ll have you removed.”

His gaze fixes on my covered wound, and like Rhett, he pales.

“Good thing you’re not squeamish, huh?” I smile at him, feeling a little high from whatever they injected me with to kill the pain.

“Call security,” the doctor tells the nurse.

Gabriel lifts his palms. “Calm the fuck down. I’m leaving.”

“I guess no one is eating meat tonight.” The thought sends a sudden rush of hysteria through me. “Oh, my God, Gabriel. The dinner.” I trip over my own words, trying to get them out. “It was a stupid accident. I didn’t pay attention. I’m so sorry. Please don’t let Magda kill me.”

“Forget about the goddamn dinner,” he says harshly. When the doctor shoots him a warning look, he continues in a softer tone, “I’m taking care of everything.”

He holds my gaze as the medical staff rush me toward the swinging doors. As I look back at him, standing there by himself, I have this weird notion that he’s alone in the world. Suddenly, I long for him, inexplicably and completely. In this scary moment, it’s him I want by my side. I reach for him, recognizing the helpless expression on his face, and then the doors shut out his image. Coldness washes over my body and invades my soul as the doctor pushes a mask on my face and tells me to count to ten. I get to three before the memory of Gabriel’s face fades.

---

The doctor keeps me overnight and discharges me the following day at noon. He tells me the operation went well, and that he gave me a tetanus shot. A tense and tired-looking Gabriel enters my room with a huge bunch of white lilies when the doctor leaves after examining me.

“Hey, beautiful.” He kisses my lips. “How do you feel?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Come on.” He helps me to get dressed, and even if I protest when a nurse pushes a wheelchair into the room, he lowers me into the chair. “It’s the chair or my arms.” He gives me a smile, but it’s weak. The expression in his eyes is shuttered, making it hard for me to read him.

“I have your prescription from the doctor,” he says. “We’ll stop at the pharmacy before we go.”

We leave armed with antibiotics and painkillers from the hospital pharmacy. On the way home, Gabriel clutches my fingers, and when he shifts gears, he places my bandaged hand on his thigh.

It’s only when we take the off-ramp to Parktown that he speaks. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

His anger sparks annoyance in me. It’s with difficulty that I keep my temper in check. “It was an accident.”

“You have no idea what you put me through.”

“I can guess. You were worried about your investment.”

He swerves and brings the car to such a quick stop on the shoulder of the road that my body is thrown forward, and the seatbelt cuts into my chest. I utter a shocked cry, but it’s lost in his mouth when he grabs my shoulders and presses our lips together. His kiss is frantic and brutal. His teeth cut my tongue, and the force of his caress bruises my lips. My jaw aches when he finally lets me go. We’re both breathing hard, our chests rising and falling rapidly. I can only stare at him, both turned on and frightened.

“Valentina…” A flash of something tightens his eyes and makes his nostrils flare. “You have no idea…” He drags a hand through his hair, messing it up more.

I swallow away the constriction in my throat that makes it hard to speak. “I said I was sorry.”

He cups my cheek and brushes a thumb under my eye. “Not as sorry as I am.”

In that moment, he lets me see his anguish. I remember what he said about having a heart the night I asked him about his scars. Compassion replaces my irritation.

I place my hand over his. “It’s going to be all right.”

A flicker of a smile plucks at his lips. “I’m supposed to say that, dammit.”

“Then say it.” I dare him with my eyes, urging him to let go of whatever darkness took hold of him.

“It’s going to be fine, Valentina.”

“That’s better.” I bring his palm to my mouth and plant a kiss on it.

“I’m supposed to do that, too,” he says with a hint of sadness.

I wordlessly offer him my palm, but he doesn’t kiss the inside. He draws my hand to his lips and sucks my forefinger into the warm depth of his mouth, biting down gently on the tip. Heat floods my underwear as he swirls his tongue around the digit. Then he pulls my wet finger from his mouth and dries it on his shirt. The kiss he leaves on the top of my hand is the opposite of what he did to my mouth. It’s sweet, tender, and careful. After holding my eyes for another second, he puts my hand in the same position as earlier on his thigh and steers the car back into the traffic. When he’s not shifting gears, he plays with my fingers, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles.

At home, Rhett opens the door and helps me from the car. “If you need help with anything, you only have to say.”

“Thanks for driving me, yesterday.”

Gabriel’s dark expression stills Rhett. I’m not sure what Gabriel’s problem with Rhett is, but the guard immediately excuses himself and leaves.

Inside, Quincy and Carly rush to greet us.

“Show me your hand,” Carly exclaims. “You could’ve told me.”

I hold up my bandaged thumb. “It’s not so bad.”

“Lunch is in the oven,” Quincy says. “We had to improvise, but it’s edible.” He turns to me, looking guilty. “I shouldn’t have left, yesterday. I should’ve stayed and helped.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Come on, Dad,” Carly hooks her arm around Gabriel’s. “I’m starving.”

He hesitates for a second before he follows her to the dining room, his eyes finding mine over his shoulder.

To be honest, I’m happy for the time alone. I haven’t dealt with the shock, yet, and I want solitude to process what happened. Oscar greets me by the entrance to the kitchen, rubbing his soft body against my legs.

“Hey, baby.” I take a moment to pet him and check that he has food.

There’s no place to put the enormous bouquet of flowers in my room, so I borrow a vase from the crystal cupboard and leave them on the counter in the kitchen. Thankfully, Quincy left the kitchen tidy. I’m prohibited from using my hand or working for a week, but I won’t allow that to give Magda a reason to kill me. Or Charlie. She’s only biding her time, waiting for the right excuse. Packing the dishwasher and doing a few minor chores, I find that I cope well enough with one hand, but Magda grudgingly tells me to take the rest of the day off. I use that time to rest, catching up on sleep.

Much later, Gabriel comes to my room. He covers every inch of my skin in kisses and makes love to me gently. When he holds me afterward, I allow the warmth of his arms to soothe me. Uninvited tears flow over my cheeks. The grief of giving up my studies and the shock of the accident come tumbling down on me, pushing me under a wave of sorrow that makes it hard to breathe. Sobs wrack my shoulders as I cling to him, holding onto the man who took my freedom. In what feels like my darkest hour, he’s all I have. It’s so damn screwed up. How much more can I handle before Gabriel completely destroys me?

He pulls me into his lap and kisses the top of my head. “Hush, beautiful.”

“Gabriel.” I bury my face in his neck, inhaling the spicy fragrance of his skin. “Set me free, I beg you.”

He rests his chin on my head and inhales slowly. “You may as well ask me to cut off my arm.”

When I fall asleep a long time later, I dream that I’m standing on one end of a hospital corridor and Gabriel on the other. Between us, there are rows of people with horrendous injuries, the number of patients too big to count. I’m pushing my way through the bodies, trying to reach him, but when I get to the other side, he’s gone. I wake up in a fit of pain, sweating, and alone in my bed. I take a painkiller and count a hundred sheep ten times before I drift off again.

---

The first thing I do the following morning, is have the meat saw driven to the dump. The second is to take out medical insurance for Valentina. As long as I’m alive, I’ll cover her bills, but I may not live as long as I’d like, especially not with my kind of business. I almost fired Rhett for his stupidity of taking her to the goddamn Joburg Gen. The only thing that saved his skin is that I couldn’t punish him for my negligence. I should’ve thought about Valentina’s health the minute she crossed my doorstep. I should’ve informed my staff in the case of an emergency, she’s to be treated like any member of the family. All sorts of bad things could’ve happened. She could’ve bled to death. She could’ve caught an infection. With all the filth and blood around the Joburg Gen, she could’ve contracted AIDS. To think she considered sewing back her own thumb. That she didn’t panic gives me a new level of respect for her. It’s one thing to stitch me back together, but quite another to pick your thumb off the floor and not raise the roof in hysterics.

She’s managing with one hand, like she always does, but this isn’t what I want for her. She’s been in my house for less than a quarter of a year, and my perfect doll is already broken. I threatened her with the whip if she doesn’t rest. Magda isn’t happy with the turn of events, but she only raises the issue when we’re alone in the car on our way to one of the loan offices.

“Why did you do it?”

I glance at her from over the rim of my sunglasses. “Do what?”

“Pay Valentina’s hospital bill.”

“Jesus, Magda, did you expect me to sit back and let her lose her thumb? Anyway, Rhett paid for it. I only reimbursed him.”

“You’re investing in dead meat.”

“We’ve been through this enough times already.”

“When are you going to let go?”

“When I’m ready.”

“When will that be?”

I gave her a hard look. “When I’m damn well ready and not a second before.”

“I’ve been lenient with you, but my patience is wearing thin. Don’t make me choose a date.”

“I’ll choose a date,” I say evasively, placating her for now. Maneuvering the car down the steep hill into Braamfontein, I ask the question that, for the last few weeks, has been foremost on my mind. “Why do you want her dead?”

She blinks and looks away. “I told you, to make an example out of her.”

“Why her?”

“Why not?”

“If it’s just about the money, I’ll settle her debt.”

She turns in her seat. “You’re willing to buy that little slut?”

Anger spurts into my veins, setting my heart off at a dangerous beat. “She’s anything but a slut.”

She gives a cynical snort. “Maybe you prefer a different term, but she’s your fuck toy, and in my opinion that makes her a slut.”

“Easy, Magda,” I say evenly. “You’re pushing me too far.”

“Gabriel,” her voice takes on a softer tone, “you can never trust her. If you lower your guard, she’ll stab a knife in your back or steal you blind.”

I can’t say for sure about the knife in my back. I’m sure Valentina has wished me dead plenty of times. What I do know is that she’s not a thief.

“She’s been managing the food budget since Marie’s stroke, and she’s saving us a lot of money.”

“That doesn’t say anything.”

“It says she’s trustworthy where money’s concerned. Don’t think I’m unaware of the money Marie pocketed for herself with the kickback she got from the suppliers.”

“It’s small money.”

“Doesn’t change the principle. Stealing is stealing, which makes Marie a thief. Yet, you never lashed out at her.”

“That’s different. Marie is practically part of the family. Her mother worked for my mother. Your fuck doll is neither family nor loyal. I don’t care how much money she’s saving us, her time’s running out.”

“Let it go.”

At the cold deliberation in my tone, she turns her head to look through the window. “Anyway, I’m not interested in selling her. You won’t settle her debt.”

I let it slide, making an effort to calm myself. “I called our old cleaning service company. They’ll stand in until next week.”

My mother scoots up straighter. “You did what?”

“Valentina is booked off. You know that.”

“This is the perfect opportunity to let her fail.”

I clench my jaw. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Fine.” She waves a hand in the air. “Treat her like a princess and wrap her in cotton wool. It’ll make her fall so much harder.”

My fingers tighten on the wheel. I feel like leaning over my mother, opening her door, and shoving her out of my car and my life. We keep on clashing heads over this, and if she can’t accept that Valentina is a part of our lives for good, it’s going to get ugly.

---

The week drags on with Valentina being withdrawn and quiet, keeping to her room. At least she has time to rest and maybe study. She still hasn’t told me about her studies. I’m not sure if she’s hiding something else from me, or if it’s the after-effect of the anesthesia that’s giving her the blues, but she’s not herself. I suppose it’s normal, given what she’s been through. All I can do is give her my support and care until she’s back in the kitchen in her black dress. I’m not happy about it, but I haven’t found a solution to the dilemma, yet, and Magda won’t budge.

On top of my worry about Valentina, I need to raise a difficult issue with Carly. Carly doesn’t normally eat in the morning, but since Magda isn’t present today, I ask my daughter to have breakfast with me so we can speak in private.

I wait until Valentina has left us after serving bran muffins before I say, “I know you love your mother and our divorce was tough on you. We didn’t discuss it much when the breakup happened. I think it’s important that you have someone neutral to talk to.”

She stares at me with wide eyes. “It’s a bit late for that.”

“It’s never too late.”

“It won’t help.” She hides her face behind her hair.

“You can’t say unless you’ve tried.”

She pushes the fruit around on her plate.

“Stop hiding behind your hair and look at me.”

She lifts her head, her eyes throwing daggers at me. “There’s only one thing that’ll help, and that’s if you and mom get back together.”

I sigh deeply. “It’s not going to happen. You have to accept it.”

She bangs her fork down on her plate. “Why not? Why can’t you live together like a normal couple?”

“Your mother and I, we don’t love each other any more. That doesn’t mean we don’t love you.”

“Bullshit.” She pushes her chair back and jumps to her feet. “You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

Grabbing her bag, she sprints for the door.

“Carly!”

I want to order her to come back and finish her breakfast, but my common sense tells me to give her space until she has cooled down. Dwelling on my parental problems, I finish my breakfast alone, even if I no longer have an appetite.

Valentina’s voice pulls me to the present. “Can I clear the plates?”

The new melancholy that has invaded her makes her big, sad eyes more haunting than ever. I gather my plate and glass to carry it to the kitchen, and return with the tray while Valentina takes the rest. Knowing how proud she is, I try to make things easier for her without making it obvious. While I’m loading my plate in the dishwasher, I notice that she scoops Carly’s untouched muffin from the plate, carefully wrapping it in a paper napkin. The rest of my half-eaten muffin she packs into an ice cream container half-full with bones, bits of meat, and cooked vegetables, which she keeps in the staff fridge. I’ve never seen her clear the table before, but it’s obvious she’s in the habit of collecting the left overs. What does she do with the food that’s meant for the compost bin? My morning conference call is due, so I don’t give it further thought, but leave the kitchen with a feeling I can’t place. It’s as if my time with both Carly and Valentina is running out. I don’t like it. The last time I felt like this was right before I tripped a wire and was left for dead with half of my face blown to pieces.

---

I time my meetings so that I’m free during Valentina’s lunch breaks to check on her. Before going outside, I spend a few undisturbed minutes observing her through the kitchen window. I love looking at her like this, when her guard is down. The perverseness in me likes to invade her privacy, stealing a part of her I’ll otherwise never have. I came to accept that Valentina will never be one hundred percent open with me. Our forced relationship isn’t the kind that nurtures an unconditional sharing of the soul.

As always, she’s sitting on the low wall by the pool. Bruno is lying next to her on the grass, his head on his paws, staring up at her with doting eyes. Her hands are cupped around an object, like the petals that protect the stigma of a flower. She opens them to reveal something round and white. What is she holding? It looks like a paper napkin. Folding the napkin open carefully, she breaks the muffin that’s inside in two, and feeds one half to Bruno while she eats the other. The dog gobbles it up in one gulp, and wags his tail optimistically, watching to see if more is coming. She eats slowly, like a person who tastes every bite.

Everything inside of me slams to a standstill. What I’m witnessing is an ordinary scene of a woman nourishing her body, but it shatters me. I’ve seen many atrocious deeds and tortures that will make most grown men crumble, but this––Valentina eating our leftover food––this does something to me not even a killing does. I’ll double her allowance and buy her more food. I’ll put her brother in a fancy institute. I’ll do anything it takes for her to never have to eat the crumbs from someone else’s table again. That bursary better come through soon. I go back to my study and call my CFO, who ensures me it’s a matter of days now. Some red tape at the university is slowing down the process.

When I go to her that night, I decide to broach the subject. I strip her naked and drive my cock into her, keeping us both on a precipice of pleasure. I drag it out until neither of us can tolerate it any longer.

Her nails dig into my shoulders. “Gabriel, please.” She rocks her hips against mine, trying to create more friction.

I pull out almost completely and still my movements. “Who do you belong to?”

She shivers when I press my thumb on her clit. “You.”

“Who takes care of you?”

“You.”

“How do I take care of you?”

“However you like.”

“Damn right. How the hell ever I like.” Her back arches when I pinch her nipple. “Who makes you come?” I shove back into her.

“You,” she cries on a gasp.

“Who dresses you?”

“You.”

I move again in all earnest. “Who feeds you?”

“Ah, God, Gabriel! You.”

“That’s right, beautiful.” I kiss her lips. “Me.”

I slam our bodies together so hard I have to cup her head to prevent it from hitting the wall. She cries my name as she comes with a violent spasm, her pussy sucking me deeper and milking me dry. There’s nothing more satisfying than coming inside her. I empty my body in hers, making her take every drop, but I don’t pull out. Her cheeks are flushed, and her hair sticks to her damp forehead.

I frame her face between my hands. “Anything you need, you’ve got it. You only have to say the word. Understand?”

She closes her eyes.

“Look at me, Valentina.”

When she opens them again, they’re moist with tears. “Why are you doing this? It’s not part of our deal.”

I kiss each eyelid and then her nose. “Because I’m everything you need.”

The sadness in her gaze intensifies, fueling my fear, which in terms spurs my anger. “Say it.”

She licks her lips, but doesn’t reply.

I wrap my fingers around her neck and squeeze. “Say it, damn you.”

Her body tenses, but she doesn’t fight my hold. Instead, her shoulders sag as she slowly lets out a breath. “Yes, Gabriel. You are my everything.”

Heated satisfaction warms my balls, spreading all the way up my spine. My cock grows hard inside her again. I have her in every way I want, but I still need her in so many ways. Rising on my knees, I hook her legs over my shoulders and use my cum to lubricate her ass. She screams when I enter her there, but with my fingers in her pussy and on her clit, she quickly gives me the moans of ecstasy I’m after. Long after she had her second orgasm, I’m still punishing myself with new pleasure. It takes a long time before my second release. With her, I can go all night, but she needs her rest, so I gather her body against mine and hold her until she falls asleep.

---

My mother used to say if something bad happens, celebrate something positive. That way, you’ll never become depressed. Maybe that’s how she survived when my dad died and we lost everything. She never left the house without red Estee Lauder lipstick.

“If you’re sad, Valentina,” she used to say, “put on your red lipstick.”

I fish the tube I ordered with my supplies from my bag and apply the lipstick in the mirror. The red stands out on my tanned skin. I scrunch my curls around my face, letting their natural glossiness stand out. I’m wearing the pink T-shirt, jeans, and flats from the Sandton boutique. On the outside, I look pretty. No one will know how broken I am on the inside. Maybe, one day, I’ll be able to just look at the pretty and forget that I’ve been a whore to the most dangerous killer in the city.

When I say goodbye to Gabriel for the weekend, he looks at me like he may object to me leaving the house with the makeup on my face, but I’m not his daughter, and this is my time.

He swallows as he studies me, jiggling the keys in his pocket. “I’ll drive you.”

I don’t argue anymore. It’s pointless. On the way, I ask him to stop at the corner bakery to pick up a Black Forest Cake. I could’ve baked it for half the price, but that’s not the point. I’ve never purchased a cake in my life. I hold the fancy shop cake in its plastic container on my lap, the black cherries shiny with sugary syrup on top of the whipped cream.

Gabriel glances at the cake and then at me. “Whose birthday is it? I know it’s not yours.”

“No one.” I look from the window at the passing cars.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing.”

He purses his lips, but doesn’t continue the interrogation. Near Rocky Street, I ask him to stop again so I can feed the hungry dogs. The minute they see me, they come running. Gabriel leans against the car with his ankles crossed, watching me as I distribute the food between them. I wipe the plastic container out with a paper towel, and wrap it in a plastic bag to wash later. A shadow of a smile plays on his lips as I get back to the car.

“What?”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re every kind of good.”

“No, I’m not.”

“To me, you are.”

He doesn’t give me a chance to reply. He opens the door and helps me inside.

When he drops me off across the road from Kris’ place, I wait until his car turns the corner before I head over to the house. Charlie nearly knocks me off my feet as I enter through the kitchen door.

“Hey.” I laugh and deposit the cake on the counter. “How are you?” I take him into a big hug. There’s more meat on his bones and a tube around his middle.

“Ca–cake!”

“It’s for after dinner.” I squeeze his shoulders and sit down next to him on the couch, switching off the television.

We play Chinese Checkers until Kris locks up the practice. As habitual, I cook, and she gets to take a much-needed break after she spends the first ten minutes freaking out about my thumb. When Charlie is seated with a big slice of cake in front of his favorite cartoon, she takes the chair opposite me at the kitchen table.

“What’s with the cake?” she asks through the motion of chewing.

“We’re celebrating.”

“We are?”

“Yep.” I lick the chocolate filling off my spoon.

“Can you be a little less secretive?”

I shrug. “We’re celebrating that I have more free time and money. I can now pay you proper board for Charlie.”

She makes big eyes at me. “Did he give you a pay rise? More off-time?”

I take a big bite. My mouth is too full to answer.

“Well?”

I wipe the cream from the corner of my mouth with my good thumb and lick it clean. “Not exactly.”

“Val.” Kris pushes her plate away and folds her arms on the table. “What’s going on?”

“I dropped out of uni.”

I’m saying it like I just told her it’s hot today, hoping she’ll let it go, but I already know better.

“Like in, quit your studies?” she exclaims.

Charlie looks up from the television.

“Shh.” I give her my best angry frown. “You’ll make him think something’s wrong.”

“Something is wrong.”

“Kris.”

“Why?”

“Look at it this way, I don’t have the burden of paying a huge school bill any longer, or worries about exams, and spending late nights studying anatomy.”

She dips her head, searching for my eyes. “Why?”

I sigh. “The cook had a stroke. I took over her duties.”

“They’re going to hire another cook, right? You can’t give up. Val, you’ve completed more than half of the course!”

“I can’t keep up the job and the studies. It’s too much.”

Her lips thin. “You’re letting them win.”

“I don’t have a choice,” I say through gritted teeth. “I work until dinner is served and the kitchen is clean, which means I’m lucky if I get off at ten. God, I’m lucky if I go to bed by midnight, and I’m up at four every morning.” I don’t say that Gabriel occupies another hour or more of my day, fucking me senseless and giving me orgasms until I pass out.

Emotions play on her face. Thank God she doesn’t say something meaningless like she’s sorry.

“It’s for Charlie.” I lower my voice. “Nothing will matter anyway if he’s dead. He’s all I’ve got.”

She covers my hand with hers. It is a big, strong hand with cat scratches and dog bite marks, and a calloused skin that tells its own story. “You’ve got me, babes.”

Warmth spreads through my chest, making tears build at the back of my eyes. “Thank you.”

“You can still work here. I mean, after…”

“I know.” After nine years, I’m not sure I’ll still have the stomach for this city. “Eat your cake. I paid a lot of money for it.”

“You better hide the rest or Charlie will devour it in the night.”

Worry nags at me. “He’s picking up weight.”

“Sorry. I’m not here much, I’m afraid, or I would’ve taken him out for exercise.”

“I have an idea.”

“Uh-uh. When you get that light bulb moment look, I get worried.”

I prop my foot on the seat of my chair, hugging my knee. “He can walk the dogs.”

“You mean them?” She throws her thumb at the door adjoining to the clinic.

“Yes! He crosses the road by himself, right? We can try with one dog first and see how it goes. I can go with him tomorrow.”

“I suppose it can’t do harm.”

“It’ll be good for him to get out more, breathe in some fresh air.”

She snorts. “What fresh air? In case you haven’t noticed, this is Joburg.”

I’m not having my spirits dampened, not tonight. “Charlie and I’ll do the first doggie walk together.”

“You’re a good sister, Val. Charlie’s lucky to have you.”

“No, I’m lucky to have him.”

I’m still raw about my studies, but there’s a reason I’m doing this. The reason is a beautiful, innocent boy trapped in the body of a man who sits on Kris’ couch with a huge smile on his face. All it takes to make Charlie happy is a piece of cake. I should learn from him.

---

The therapist knocks on my door at ten sharp, as agreed. Dorothy Botha is a short, attractive woman in her late forties. She’s wearing tight jeans and a stretch shirt, not the attire I imagined for a psychiatrist. At the rate I’m paying for the house call, I expected her to show up in Dior or Gucci.

She shakes my hand, and offers a smile. “Mr. Louw.”

“Call me Gabriel. Thank you for meeting Carly at home. It’s more comfortable for her in her own environment.” And there’s less chance for one of our enemies to discover my daughter has instability issues. They’ll use anything they can against me.

I show her to the reading room where Carly sits on the couch, her legs pulled up under her. My daughter gives me a cutting look when we enter and doesn’t offer Dorothy a greeting. Every part of her body languages says she’s not happy about spending her Sunday morning with a shrink.

“Carly, this is Mrs. Botha. Say hi.”

“Say hi,” Carly parrots.

I’m about to lose my cool and give her a lecture about proper manners, but Dorothy lays her hand on my arm.

“You can call me Dorothy.” She takes the chair opposite Carly and looks up at me expectantly.

I get it. She wants me to leave. “Coffee, tea?”

“No, thank you.” She’s pleasant, but firm.

“All right, then.” I close the door, hoping to God Dorothy will accomplish what neither me nor Sylvia is able to do––get Carly to open up.

While the women are talking, or hopefully talking, I clear the table from our late breakfast, and feed Oscar. He’s got a new brand of food, the same as Bruno. With the price on the tag, they must put gold flakes in the kibbles. The brand’s worth its weight in gold, though, because Bruno’s allergies have disappeared, and Oscar’s coat is thick and glossy. Bruno’s food is delivered to our door from our local vet. I pay the bill. No cat food is included. The specialty food isn’t available at supermarkets. If Valentina doesn’t order it with our daily groceries, where does it come from?

Magda walks into the kitchen, dressed up in her black and white Chanel suit. “Where’s Carly? I want to invite her for lunch.”

I cross my arms, and lean on the counter. “Where?”

“The McKenzies.”

My back immediately turns rigid. “Not interested.”

“Come on, Gabriel.” She props her clutch bag on her hip. “Carly’s never going to take your place. She hasn’t got it in her. Our only chance is finding her the right husband.”

“I said no.”

She advances two steps, stopping short of me. “Do you have a cleverer idea? What if something happens to you? Or me? Who’s going to take over our business? Not that gold-digging, ex-wife of yours. Word’s going around she’s got her sights set on Francois. If she marries him and we can’t provide a successor, that slimy rat will take over as Carly’s stepdad. Is that what you want?”

Acid burns my mouth. Francois is a pretty boy five years Sylvia’s junior, but that’s not what’s bothering me. It’s the idea of him playing stepdad to Carly that I can’t digest.

“Answer me. Is that what you want?”

“Is that all you care about, finding a successor for the business? What about Carly’s happiness?”

“Happiness?” She laughs. “Carly is my granddaughter, but by God, she’s a spoiled child. You got her used to this.” She waves her arms around the room. “You give her everything her heart desires. You think she’s going to ever settle for less? I don’t think so.”

“Don’t project your sentiments on Carly.”

“Oh, money is as important to her as it is to me. Let’s face it, even if she’s not a leader, she’s a Louw. She’ll do her duty for our name.”

“Don’t you dare treat her like a pawn in your business. Carly’s not going to lead the life I live.”

“The life you live? You want to live the life of one of our debtors? Want to see what it’s like on the poor side of the fence? Do you know what happens to you and your daughter at night when you don’t have enough money for an alarm system that criminals can’t break through?”

“I know what happens. I’ve seen it.”

“You haven’t felt it. Believe me, you don’t want to live any other life than this life.” She scrutinizes me. “You’re getting soft, Gabriel. It’s that girl, isn’t it?”

My hackles rise. “She’s got nothing to do with this. Valentina or no Valentina, I’ll never marry Carly off to Benjamin McKenzie.”

“I hope for your sake you’re growing tired of fucking your toy.”

Every muscle in my body tenses. My injured leg protests against the strain. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“A cat only plays with a mouse for so long before he goes for the kill. Why isn’t she dead, yet?”

My heart drops like an ax splitting wood. “I’m not ready.”

“I’ve been patient with you. I gave you the toy you so badly wanted. We made a deal. Now I’m giving you a direct order. Kill her, or I’ll do it for you.”

I almost jump on her. I’m a hairbreadth away from her face before I stop myself. “You’ll do nothing for me, do you hear me?”

“You have one last chance. Make it sooner than later.” She smiles sweetly. “You’re not twelve any more. Don’t make me shoot you in the foot.”

My vision goes blurry. I’m about to strangle my own mother in our kitchen. The only thing that stops me from reaching for her scrawny, white, wrinkled neck, is Carly’s figure that appears in the doorframe.

There’s a chill in her voice. “We’re done.”

“I’m going out for lunch, Carly dear. Why don’t you join me?”

“Magda is having lunch at the McKenzies,” I say, knowing how much Carly hates Benjamin.

“No thanks, Gran. I’ve got homework.” She trots down the hallway, pretending I don’t exist.

When Carly is out of earshot, I narrow my eyes. “Let me handle my own affairs and leave Carly out of the business.” Giving my mother my back, I walk from the room, feeling the tension in my leg.

“Softness will get you killed, Gabriel,” she calls after me.

Dorothy waits in the reading room.

I close the door and take a seat. “How did it go?”

She wipes her fingers over her brow. “She’s tough to talk to. Of course, I need to win her trust first.” She looks at me from under her lashes. “I pick up a need for approval and acceptance. Are you spending enough time with her?”

“Not as much as I’d like.”

“Busy job?”

“It’s not that. Carly would rather spend time with her friends than her father.”

“It’s normal. Try to strengthen her self-esteem by complimenting her for homework well done or good deeds, anything positive, but be authentic. Make sure she knows you’re noticing her and taking an interest in her life.”

“I assure you, I am.”

“I don’t doubt that, or I wouldn’t be here. Just make sure you show her as well as tell her. It will help, of course, if I can have a joint session with you and your ex-wife to agree on a consistent strategy that will reinforce your daughter’s self-image.”

“I’m afraid you won’t find much cooperation from my ex-wife.”

“Ah, well.” She wipes her hands on her thighs and straightens. “Let’s see how it goes after a couple of sessions. Try to maintain the status quo at home. Don’t introduce any new or stressful situations if you can avoid it, at least not for a while.”

“Such as?”

“A stepmom.”

“Carly’s worried about that?”

“She mentioned it. I know this is a personal question, but are you seeing anyone, maybe a lady friend your daughter doesn’t get on with?”

“No.” Not that Carly knows of, at least.

“Then Carly’s fear is unfounded. It’s not uncommon for children to feel lost after a divorce. Carly’s frightened of losing you or her mother to someone else. Reassure her of your affection whenever you can.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll see you next week, same time.”

“I’ll walk you to the door.”

Even as I speak, my mind is drifting to a reoccurring thought. How will Carly react if she ever finds out about Valentina?

---

Regret is not a conducive sentiment. Still, I can’t help from feeling it when I read the letter addressed to me that Gabriel brings to the kitchen on Monday morning. Reading it with my back to him, I curl my fingers in a fist until my nails cut into my skin. I want to cry, but he’s hovering at the coffee machine.

“Good news?”

I glance at him from over my shoulder. He’s dressed in a dark suit with a blue shirt and yellow tie. He makes the ensemble look perfect. The tailored pants stretch over his narrow hips, which emphasizes the broadness of his chest. His unique fragrance beckons me, but I need to be alone to deal with the news.

I shrug.

“All right.” He says it like a threat, making me understand he’ll let me get away with my disobedience of not giving him a reply for now, but maybe not later.

I hold my breath until he has left the room. Only when I’m alone do I allow the emotions to explode inside of me. I grab the edges of the counter so hard my arms shake from the strain. The letter crumples in my fist. I scrunch it up until it’s a tiny ball. Of all the sick jokes in the world, this one must have the best timing. I bang my fists on the counter, setting the bowls and knives and spoons clanging. For all of three seconds, I allow myself every single destructive emotion that lances into my heart, and then I lift the lid of the trashcan and dump the letter informing me of my all-inclusive scholarship inside. When the lid falls back with a clang, something inside of me ceases to exist. What’s left is the hollow echo of a dream and nothing more than the will to survive.

---

The letter that arrived from the university this morning should’ve made Valentina ecstatic. There’s a change in her I don’t understand. After doing my morning rounds at our franchises in town, I head to her friend’s place where Charlie lives. The woman waiting in reception with a Miniature Doberman shrinks back when she looks up at my face. Walking past her with practiced ignorance, I venture to the food section and lift my sunglasses to read the labels. I pull a bag of the urinary diet brand Valentina bought for Oscar from the shelf and carry it to the till. A few minutes pass before a peroxide blonde in a white overcoat exits. Hard lines mar her weathered face, and her fingernails are broken. Her eyes give away nothing as she assesses me. They flitter from me to the bag of food standing on the counter.

“Can I help you?”

“Is this the best brand you’ve got?”

“By far.”

I lean an elbow on the counter and check out the board with the rates for neutering and vaccinations. “My housekeeper buys it for my cat. I don’t know the brand, but I thought I’d get the same.”

Her eyes flare for the briefest of seconds before she narrows them. “Your housekeeper is a clever girl.”

“She sure is, but she should’ve told me she’s paying for the food out of her own pocket.”

“Maybe she couldn’t, because she knows you don’t care much for your cat.”

The lady with the Doberman is watching us, her head bobbing between the vet and me.

“It’s true. I don’t care for the hair that he sheds in my house or the fact that he tears my curtains to pieces, but my housekeeper seems to like him, so here’s the deal. I’ll open an account and send a driver once a month to collect the food.” I point at the large breed dog food of the same brand. “You can throw in a couple of bags of that, as well.”

It almost looks as if she’s going to refuse me, but the state of her waiting room tells me she needs the business. After a moment of measuring me, she says, “I’ll take down your details.”

She writes my address and phone number down in a book. In this day and age, nobody uses a book, not even my most unsophisticated loan sharks. She has a patient waiting, and me taking a chunk of her consultation time. What she needs is a computer and an assistant. No wonder she’s operating in a run-down building, charging fees lower than the going rate.

I tap my fingers on the countertop as she scribbles down my order. “You should go electronic.”

She lifts her head to give me a cutting look. “I’ll upgrade when I can afford it.”

I don’t blame her for hating me. What makes her different than the rest of the world? In any event, I’m not out to win anyone’s love. I can forget about getting information on Valentina’s emotional state of late from this woman. She won’t give me a glass of water if I’m dying.

She slams the book closed. “Are we done?”

I let the sunglasses fall back over my eyes. “For now.”

Saluting her, I take the food and walk to the door. The Doberman whines as I pass her owner who leans as far away from me as she can without falling out of her chair.

---

This lasagna can’t flop. I’m so engrossed in letting the white sauce thicken without forming lumps that I don’t notice Rhett until he’s right next to me. Startled, I drop the whisk. It bounces on the stovetop, rolls off the edge, and hits the ground. It’s the first time he’s set foot in the kitchen since I arrived. He bends down to retrieve the whisk and rinses it under the tap before handing it back to me.

“Thank you.” I use my left hand to stir the sauce.

He motions at the bandage on my thumb. “How’s the hand?”

“Good, thank you.”

He gives a wry smile. “I didn’t get a chance to apologize for driving you to the Joburg Gen. If I had any idea the place was that bad, I would’ve gone directly to the clinic.”

“You did what I asked.”

“I wasn’t thinking straight. I saw the blood and kind of blanked out.”

I can’t help but smile. “You? Seriously?”

He lifts his palms in a gesture of surrender. “It wasn’t the blood as much as it was you. I thought Gabriel was going to kill me.”

“For what?”

“It happened on my shift.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Wouldn’t have mattered. I was the messenger.”

I stop stirring to look at him. “I’m sorry if I got you into trouble.”

He grins. “Not as much trouble as you got yourself into. No more kitchen accidents, okay?”

“I’ll do my best.” I return my attention to the sauce.

He leans on the counter and crosses his ankles. “I was thinking of getting you a puppy.”

“A puppy?”

“I already cleared it with Gabriel.” He shifts his weight around. “I can get you one of those fluffy dogs women like. A Maltese Poodle or something.”

“I don’t want a dog.”

He looks disappointed. “Why not?”

“I’ve lost enough. I don’t want to care about another dog.”

He uncrosses his ankles and crosses his arms, not meeting my eyes.

When he doesn’t speak, but doesn’t leave either, I remove the sauce from the heat, and turn to face him squarely. “Why did you shoot Puff, Rhett?”

His chest expands, as if he’s taking a breath, and when he lifts his gaze again, he regards me with a level stare. “I didn’t want to leave the dog to fend for himself on the streets.”

“What?”

“I’ve seen enough of dogs to know that mongrel wasn’t going to make it on his own. Leaving him would’ve meant a drawn-out, cruel death of starvation.”

“Leaving him?”

His voice takes on a quiet tone. “When we broke into your flat that morning, it was with explicit orders.”

The blood drains from my head, leaving me with a fuzzy feeling. Rhett was certain we weren’t going to get out alive, neither Charlie nor me. Oh, my God. Gabriel wasn’t there just for Charlie. He was going to kill us both. I put the information away in the back of my mind to deal with later. Alone.

“I don’t know why Gabriel changed his mind, but I can assure you, it’s never happened before.”

My laugh is forced. “My mother used to say I have a guardian angel. Maybe she was right.”

“If it’ll make you feel better, Gabriel fucked me up good for killing your dog.”

“That day you came out of the gym with a broken nose.”

“Yep. Look, I’ll sleep a whole lot better if you’ll let me get you that dog.”

The look he gives me is so remorseful that my compassion wins over my vengeance over Puff. Logically, I understand why he did it. It doesn’t make it right or better, but I’m not in a position to deny anyone redemption. I’m still chasing after absolution for what happened to Charlie. Wiping my hands on my apron, I consider his proposal. Another living being will only make me more vulnerable than what I already am, because that’s what caring for someone or something does.

“I don’t want a dog. I want you to train me.”

He looks at me like I lost my mind. “What?”

“Teach me self-defense. We can practice in the gym.”

“Gabriel will kill me.”

“Not if he doesn’t know. We can do it when he’s out.”

“It’s a crazy idea, Valentina.”

“Is it? Have you ever stood helpless while men took the money you busted your ass for? Have you ever been held down and violated, unable to do a goddamn thing about it?”

He averts his eyes, unable to hold mine.

“Please, Rhett. I’m not going to use it against anyone in this house. I’m not stupid. I just don’t want to feel helpless any longer.”

He swallows. “Ask me anything else. If Gabriel finds out––”

“He won’t, not unless you tell him.”

He looks at me again, a war waging in his eyes. Finally, it’s his guilt that wins out. “Fine, but not a word to anyone, not even Quincy.”

“All right.”

He straightens from the counter, but his shoulders sag. “I’ll let you know when the coast is clear.”

“Thank you.”

“Consider us even.” There’s a hint of apprehension and even fear in his expression as he walks from the room.

---

The report from Anton only confirms what I already know. No one knows anything about Valentina’s rape. I drop the pen on my desk and rub my tired eyes. I’m not surprised Marvin didn’t go to the police. His family was shamed. The way he would’ve dealt with the crime was to avenge his daughter’s stolen innocence by killing the man responsible. Since he died in the same year she was assaulted, I’m not sure he got around to it. Is that why Lambert abandoned his promised fiancée? Because she was spoiled goods? Find the bastard who raped her I will, but for now I have a bigger priority––Magda’s threat.

Never underestimate Magda. I know what she’s capable of better than anyone. If I don’t kill Valentina, she will do it, and as punishment for my disobedience she’ll do it in a way that will hurt me. I’m not shy about my habits. My mother knows I fuck like some people take up a hobby. She knows I’m territorial and the most possessive bastard on the face of the earth. She knows me well enough to understand that the thought of another man’s hands on Valentina will drive me to my knees, especially after what I did to Diogo. Valentina’s death is a place I can’t even go. If Magda has to finish the job for me, Valentina will most likely suffer gang rape followed by a horrendous and slow death of torture. I have to find a way to keep her, but there’s nowhere I can hide her where Magda’s network of business associates won’t find her. And then there’s Charlie. What do I do with him? Where do I keep him safe? I made a deal with Valentina and, knowing how much Charlie means to her, this is one I intend to honor. Every problem has a solution. I just have to look hard enough.

Seeing that I have precious little time, I should be searching for a way to keep my beautiful toy, not slamming my study door, and stalking the hallway like a crazed man, my steps taking me where they always do, Valentina’s room. It’s late. Magda and Carly have long since gone to bed, but I still keep a watchful eye.

Just a few minutes. I need a break to clear my mind. Chasing improbable solutions to escape Magda’s promise has sent me in circles like a dog chasing his own tail. I need to hold her, see her, taste her, breathe her, to calm the clawing fear of losing her.

When I walk into her bedroom, she steps from the bathroom, her hair wet and her body damp. She stops in the doorframe. The bandage is dry. Good. The last thing I want is more worry. I need her too much.

For a few seconds, we have a stare-down, each one of us waiting for the other to make a move. There are a million things I can do with her. I should punish her for this morning’s obstinance when she gave me the cold shoulder, but I won’t touch her like that when she’s injured. I haven’t yet made up my mind when she closes the distance between us, placing her delicate body in front of mine like a vulnerable white pawn in the path of the black stallion’s hooves. The position is a physical reminder of the difference in power between us. I can throw her on the bed and eat her pussy from the inside out, I can fuck every hole in her body, or kiss her until she can’t breathe. She’s mine to do with as I please. I overcompensated for my looks by becoming a master of physical pleasure. I can’t give her a pretty face, but I can make her scream with orgasms until there’s not a breath of air left in her lungs.

Her hands reach for my shirt. I’m curious. Is she going to undress me? She grips the edges of the fabric above the first button and yanks them apart. Fuck dammit. There’s a tearing sound and buttons flying everywhere. She goes up on her toes to push the shirt over my shoulders, but the sleeves get stuck on my upper arms. Abandoning her efforts with the shirt, she focuses on my belt instead, her fingers fumbling with the buckle.

My heart is beating like the hooves of that dark horse she unleashed, and I’m frightened that the beast will crush her when he lets his passion rein free, but I’m too weak to stop her. Finally managing to pull the leather from the loops of my waistband, she folds it double and pushes it into my hand. It’s there in her eyes, what she wants me to do. The brown of her irises is mud-stained and murky, like a dam after a landslide.

Under normal circumstances, I’d tie her up and give her what she wants, spank her while I fuck her, but it hasn’t been a normal week. When I don’t move, she cups my balls and squeezes them through my pants. Her tongue is hot and wet on my stomach, licking a line of molten lava up my chest. Her small teeth latch onto my nipple. I jerk when she bites. Bloody hell. She lets go to bite into the muscle of my pec, then pulls back to study the marks she left on my skin. Her hands snake around my neck, pulling me down to her lips. The nip she gives my bottom lip draws blood. Her nails dig into my scalp. She kisses me like a mad woman, moaning and rubbing her body against mine.

As suddenly as she grabbed me, she lets go, falling back onto the bed with open thighs. Her pussy is ripe for me, wet and swollen. I follow as if she’s got me on a tight leash, but before I can straddle her she rolls over and gets up on her knees, offering her ass and pussy. It is a sight so alluring I almost lose my reason. I don’t move my eyes from the clean-shaved triangle between her legs as I kick off my shoes and almost tear the zipper to get out of my pants. I take no more than a second to pull off my socks. Gripping her hips hard, I drag her to the edge of the bed, placing her where I need her.

“Take me, Gabriel. Take me hard.” I’m about to do exactly that when she says, “Make it hurt. Make it hurt really bad.”

My lust jerks to a halt. I get off on hurting her, but her pain ultimately brings us both pleasure. I’m using pain to train to her body to need me, but I won’t allow her to use physical pain to escape her feelings. That’s reserved for monsters like me, and I have no intention of turning her into a monster. I need her sweet and innocent. I need her for who she is.

She looks at me from over her shoulder. “Gabriel.”

Her cry is a plea while her eyes are filled with fear––fear that I won’t oblige. There aren’t many things I’ll deny her, but this I won’t give.

“Gabriel!”

Her tiny hand folds around my shaft. I’m so hard I scarcely feel the pressure of her fingers as she guides me to her asshole. I know how an ass fuck without proper preparation feels for a woman. I made my lovers describe every sensation to me in detail. The fact that she wants this shows me how badly she’s hurting inside.

“Fuck me already if you’re a man.”

I know what she’s trying to do. “Provocation isn’t going to work with me, beautiful.”

Grabbing her around the waist with one arm, I shift her up the mattress. When I go down on my side, I bring her body with me, pressing her back to my chest.

“Fuck you, Gabriel!”

She struggles in all earnest, trying to break free, but I trap her in the constraint of my arms.

“Let me go!”

I hold her in place and plant the gentlest of kisses in her neck.

“No! Don’t you dare.”

I kiss her ear, her hair, and her temple with a soft brush of my lips. “You’re so beautiful, Valentina. Have I ever told you that?”

Her voice breaks. “Please, don’t.”

I throw my leg over hers, confining her kicking legs while I push her upper body into the mattress to kiss her spine. Sobs shake her body, but I kiss every vertebra, working my way to the curve of her ass and back up.

“Not like this,” she cries. “Not gently. Not like you care.”

I give her all the tenderness I’m capable of, stroking my fingers over her firm ass and between her legs, testing her folds. She’s wet. Always ready for me, just like I trained her. When I direct my cock to her entrance, she starts fighting me again, wiggling her upper body, and kicking with her legs. All I can do is hold her shoulders down with my arms and keep her legs trapped between mine while I enter her slick body, inch by slow inch until she’s taken all of me. She’s so hot and tight she makes me dizzy. With her thighs pressed together the friction is too much. With every stroke, I risk coming like an inexperienced adolescent.

“I hate you.” Her words are muffled by the pillow, but her body is already rocking with mine. “Why can’t you do it? Why don’t you hurt me?”

I won’t cut her air, I won’t bury my cock in her ass, and I won’t take my belt to her. It’s my business to understand her needs, and what she needs right now is to be loved.

“Why didn’t you kill me, Gabriel?”

I still. “What are you talking about?”

She turns her face to the side. “Rhett told me.”

That fucker.

“That’s why he shot my dog,” she whispers. “We weren’t supposed to make it out alive.”

I start moving again, trying to still her with our pleasure, but she won’t let it go.

There are tears in her voice. “Why Gabriel? Tell me, damn you.”

“Because I wanted you,” I grit out.

She pushes her ass up against my groin. “Is it this? You needed a fuck?”

I thrust deeper, making her moan. “You know why.”

“You spared my life to make me your whore.”

“Not my whore.” I kiss the soft, golden skin of her shoulder. “My property.”

“What’s the difference?” she asks bitterly.

The difference is that property belongs. I find her lips, kissing her like she’s mine, trying to show her that however much I trained her to need me, I need her in equal quantity. This time, she doesn’t resist the gentleness of my touch. She kisses me back, our rhythm slow and revering. I glide my body over hers, the slickness of my sweat-damp skin making the friction smooth. The movement drives my shaft deeper. I feel her on every inch of me. A deep groan tears from my chest.

Goddammit, this is heaven. My balls pull up into my groin, and sharp needles pierce into the base of my spine. Fuck, not yet. I want to last. I still for a moment to bite back the pleasure. I drag my hands over her hair and down her shoulders, over the soft curves where her breasts are pressed flat against the mattress. She’s soft and resilient and so much woman. I revel in invading her body, making her secrets and feelings mine. I push as deep as I can go, until my cock hits a barrier. A small gasp escapes her lips. I must be pushing against her cervix. Carefully, I ease back and push again. She throws her head back and whimpers, her moans changing from cries of defiance to need. Just a bit deeper and I’d touch the place in her body where miracles happen, where a child can grow from a seed in her womb. The only thing more beautiful than a woman is a pregnant woman. When your seed takes root in her womb and her breasts grow plump with the wonder of new life as her belly expands with your child, you want to love her and fuck her with your child growing between you. Valentina will scare me with the rawness of her beauty as motherhood changes her.

My body tenses with a building ejaculation so powerful it hurts. As my release explodes an idea erupts in my mind. While I empty myself in her body, I find the answer I’ve been looking for. I know how to irrevocably save her.

It’s depraved and immoral.

It’s dubious.

It’s perfect.