Awake long before the alarm goes off, I pull Valentina’s soft, warm body closer and mull over last night. Getting Valentina drunk wasn’t planned. It’s too soon for her to conceive, so I wasn’t risking her or a developing fetus’ wellbeing. The idea popped into my head while Michael fucked her with his eyes. Sylvia was always brutally honest when she had a drink too many. That was how I found out she never loved me. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. I wouldn’t have been so damn gullible if I hadn’t been desperate for a woman I could call my own.

Yeah, the truth comes out when a woman is drunk, and unlike men, they don’t whisper lies in their moments of passion. When a woman is a second away from coming, that’s when you see her true feelings in her eyes. Valentina needs me. That’s what I trained her to want. Like the kitten, I lured her with pleasure and orgasms, driving her to her limits and beyond, ensuring that no other man can ever give her what I can, because no other man will have the balls to hurt her to make her come harder. Then why am I gutted? Women want me for my money, for sex, or for the security that comes with being connected to me. Valentina wants me because I designed it so. It’s too much, hoping she’ll ever want me for me. Girls like her want men like Michael and Quincy. It’s nature. There’s not a damn thing I can do about nature, except twist, force, and bend it my way. If I need to make her my captive forever, so be it. Soon, she’ll be bound to me in blood. Our child will be a connection she can ever break.

At five, I still my bitter thoughts, switch off the alarm, and start the sad task of waking her. If I could, I would’ve left her sleeping in my bed. I love having her between my sheets. She groans as I wipe her hair over her shoulder to kiss the gracious curve.

“Wake up, beautiful.”

“Gabriel.” Her voice is sleepy.

With much regret, I throw the sheet off, letting the fresh morning air cool our bodies. Goose bumps break out over her arms. She turns on her back, rubs her eyes, and stretches.

“What time is it?”

I switch on the nightstand lamp. “Five.”

She sits up and swings her legs over the bed. Her back is a perfect portrait of frail vertebrae covered with silky skin.

She gives me a shy look from over her shoulder. “May I please use your bathroom? With all I drank last night, I won’t make it to mine.”

“Go ahead.” I want her to touch everything that’s mine. The thought of her fingers trailing over the objects that belong to me makes my skin contract with pleasure, as if she touches me.

Her slender hand brushes over the mattress as she gets up. She takes my shirt from the chair and pulls it on. Warmth at the sight of her wearing my clothes fills my chest. When she closes the bathroom door behind her, I get up to select my clothes for the day, but stop dead. Blood spots my sheets. It’s not much, only a few drops, but enough to tell me I’ve broken her again.

I jerk a suit from a hanger with a scowl. God knows I don’t deserve anything as beautiful and perfect as her, but I can’t let her go.

The door opens, and Valentina enters. Her cheeks are pale, and there are dark circles under her eyes. She smiles at me as she crosses the floor with small steps. Before she reaches the door, I cut her off. I pull her to me with my arm around her waist, cupping her sex gently with my free hand.

“Are you all right?”

She winces at my touch. “Just tired.”

Fury directed at myself combusts in my chest. “We’ll go to bed early tonight.”

She gives me a weak nod. “I better go before Carly or Magda wakes up.”

Reluctantly, I withdraw my touch. “I hurt you.”

“You wanted to.”

“Not like this. You should’ve told me.”

Her gaze holds mine. “No, Gabriel. You didn’t want to hear what I was trying to tell you.” Without another word, she walks gingerly from my room.

I let her go because I don’t have a goddamn choice. Abandoning the suit, I pull on my exercise gear, go down to the gym, and slam my fists into the punching bag until they bleed.

---

It’s going to snow in the middle of summer. Carly is having breakfast with us. She’s unusually chatty, to the point that Magda escapes with her coffee to her study.

“Dad,” she says after an exceptionally long account of her week at school, “I’ve got something to tell you.”

My gut twists inside out. I’m not going to like what’s coming. I brace myself as I wait silently with a stoic face.

“I’ve decided to move back in with Mom.”

The blow hits me right between the eyes. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. I lower my cup and take a long, deep breath to calm myself. Sylvia’s unexpected visits and easy agreement to let Carly go out on dates suddenly make sense.

I’m careful to keep my voice even. “What prompted the sudden decision?”

“Mom misses me.”

The guilt card is a dirty one for Sylvia to play. “You don’t have to make a hasty decision. Why not think it over for a while?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, already. It’s not like you’ll only see me every second weekend. I can come visit whenever I want.”

“Of course. Your room will always be here.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

There’s no point in arguing with Carly once her mind’s made up. She takes after me in that regard. I don’t trust Sylvia as a mother. She’s only ever proved to me she’s not capable of the job, and I don’t like Sylvia’s new boyfriend. All I can do is be there for Carly when she needs me.

“You’re not mad?” she asks.

“Of course not.” Disappointed, sad, but I’m not mad at my daughter.

“I’m packing some of my things today. Mom will fetch me tonight. Will you be here to say goodbye?”

So soon? “Of course.” The day, which has started out bad, goes several shades darker. “Let me know if you need a hand.”

“Thanks, but I’m cool.”

Unable to contain my emotions, I push back my chair. “I’ll pick you up after school.”

“Uh, Dad?”

I pause, waiting for her to speak.

“Me and some girls from my class are going to Mugg & Bean after school.”

“Who’s driving?”

“Mom.”

“I’ll see you before you go, then.” I walk to the door before she sees the anguish I’m feeling in my eyes.

“Have a nice day,” she calls after me.

Just like that, my daughter, my precious gift from Sylvia, is ripped from my house.

What I need is a fight. I take Rhett with me to drive around Valentina’s old neighborhood. The chances of finding the bar she mentioned are slight. Many of the old places don’t exist any longer. The neighborhood has, like so many others around, turned into a cesspool of crime. The buildings are dilapidated. Some are broken down to the ground. I requested the city plan for twelve years ago from the municipality, but like the rest of the government, they’re a corrupt bunch of uneducated officials. The records have long since been displaced with the collapse of the system. It’s a joke this country is still functioning. It’s people like me and the rest of the thugs on the street who pull the strings. Politicians are merely the puppets. There are a million ways to go to hell, and I’ve earned them all.

None of the old crowd who knew the neighborhood is left. My father’s cronies from way back who collected money on this beat are gone. Steven died of a heart attack with his pants around his ankles on the can. Dawie kicked the bucket when he fell down his front steps and broke his neck. Barney went out the old-fashioned way, gunned down in his front yard. Mickey passed away from cancer, and Conrad caught AIDS from the whores he pimped. My father’s death, going peacefully in his sleep, is the most gentle and uneventful of them all, contrary to the violent lifestyle he led. How will my end come? Will I die for the business, with a bullet in my brain, or like my father in my bed?

Rhett pulls up to the curb and nods at the flaky house with the missing roof tiles. “This one?”

“Yeah.” I cock my gun and slip it into my waistband. “Let’s go.”

Lambert has the door open before I’m strolling through the weeds in his front yard.

“Gabriel.” He gives a nervous laugh. “You’ll give me the wrong idea, calling on me all the time.”

I motion for him to enter. Rhett and I follow. The firm click of the door when I shut it makes Lambert go tense. His yellow skin takes on a pasty color.

“What can I do you for?”

I hate his slang, but I swallow my insults. “Tell me about the bar that used to be around here.”

“The bar?” His shoulders relax visibly.

“Neon sign, bald bartender, pool table at the back.”

He scratches his head and thinks for a while. “Ah,” he says after a moment, “that’ll be Porto, but the place doesn’t exist, anymore.” He sneers. “Won’t find much other than squatters living there.”

“Who’s the owner?”

“Bigfoot Jack.”

The name rings a bell. My father mentioned him once or twice.

“Where can I find him?”

“Six feet under.”

Shit. Another dead-end. “Who protected him?” Everyone in the hood had protection from someone. You couldn’t survive otherwise.

“He was with the Jewish guys from Kensington.”

“Jewish? In Portuguese territory?”

“His wife is Jewish. The big boss made a deal with the Porras to cut Bigfoot out of the loop. Why do you want to know all this stuff?”

“I’m writing a history book,” I say drily.

His nose wrinkles, burying his tiny pig eyes in layers of skin. “You’re shitting me.”

The guy is really thick.

“Where can I find the wife?”

“Won’t do you no good. Sophia’s got Alzheimer’s. She doesn’t recognize an ant from a fly.”

This doesn’t help. I wipe a hand over my face.

Lambert doesn’t seem to know where to put his feet. He shifts from the left to the right. “Want a beer?”

“Come on.” I nod at Rhett and make my way back to the car.

Inside, my bodyguard turns to me. “Do you mind telling me what’s going on?”

“I need Lambert’s phone records.”

“I’ll call Anton.”

“I already did. They’ve been wiped.”

“From how long back?”

I give him the date on which I first visited Valentina’s almost-husband.

“I know a hacker at Vodacom who’s discreet. I’ll call him and see what he can do.”

While I’m driving, he calls his contact. Before I pull into our driveway, he has a number for me. I park and punch the numbers he reads out loud into my phone. Already by the fourth digit, I know who the number belongs to. As I type in the last digit, Magda’s name pops onto the screen.

I fling the door open and make my way to the house with long strides.

“Gabriel!” Rhett jumps from the car and runs after me.

“Stay out of this,” I call back.

I find Magda in her study. “Why did Lambert Roos call you?”

She leans back, regarding me from over the rim of her glasses. “He wanted to know why we’re sniffing around in his territory.” She folds her arms. “Why are we, Gabriel?”

“Did you know Bigfoot Jack?”

“Not personally, but everyone in the business knows who Jack was.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Same as you––not much. Why this sudden interest in Bigfoot?”

“I’m trying to piece together Valentina’s history, but it’s all dead-end streets.”

“Why?”

“I’m interested.”

“Don’t get attached to her, Gabriel. I’ve warned you, already.”

“So you have.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Getting attached?”

“I don’t think I’m capable of attachment.”

“You’ve always been a soft boy, too soft for what it takes.”

“What does it take, Magda?”

“Do your job.”

“You mean kill her.”

“As agreed.”

I don’t agree at all, but a text comes in from Rhett, informing me the doctor has arrived. I order him to wait upstairs and go in search of Valentina. She’s walking Bruno with Quincy, and seeing them together in friendly banter only escalates my irritability.

“Hey,” she says when she sees me.

Her warm smile cools at my explosive state.

“The doctor’s waiting,” I say.

At my tone, Quincy mumbles a greeting and takes his leave.

“I know. I suggested we get started, but he insisted on waiting for you,” she tells me.

“I’m here now, so let’s go.”

In my room, I tell the doctor to repeat the same tests from yesterday. Yesterday, I wanted to ensure Valentina hasn’t sustained internal injuries that could prevent her from having children. Today, I need to know I haven’t damaged her.

“Again?” he says, his voice not giving away his thoughts.

I raise my brow in challenge. I pay him enough not to ask questions.

He turns to Valentina. “You know what to do, my dear.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Do it, Valentina,” I say more harshly than what I intended.

She flinches at my tone but obeys. Only when the doctor tells me that she’s fine do I relax. I’d instructed him to inject her with a fertility treatment yesterday to increase her chances of conceiving. She’ll be ovulating a week from today, and my seed will be in her morning, afternoon, and night, until it takes.

I hold out her dress for her to step into and button up the front before guiding her back to the daybed. The doctor unrolls the bandage on her thumb, exposing an angry, red wound. I don’t need his confirmation to know the antibiotics aren’t helping. Neither does Valentina.

She looks at me with big eyes. “I hoped it would be better today.”

The doctor gives me a grim look. “She’ll have to go to the clinic. Now.”

My world comes to a standstill for a third time that day. I take Valentina’s hand in mine. Her palm is cold and clammy. “Is there a risk of her losing her thumb?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a surgeon.” He pulls off the medical gloves and throws them in the trashcan. “Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

“No.” I squeeze her fingers. “I’ll take her.”

I get Quincy to drive us so I can sit in the back with Valentina, my arm around her shoulders. Her frame is tense, but she leans into my touch when I grip her chin to kiss her lips. From spanking her, I know her pain threshold is low. That’s why she was so pale this morning. I want to tell her it will be all right, but there are already enough lies between us, and I simply don’t know.

On the way to the hospital, I call my personal insurance broker and get her to arrange pre-admittance at the clinic. It’s peak hour traffic at five, but Quincy knows the back roads and manages to get us there in little over thirty minutes. With Valentina already admitted, we walk straight to an examination room where a young surgeon waits on us. He takes one look at her finger and orders tests to be done.

“What’s the course of action?” I ask tightly.

“One thing at a time. Let’s get the results, first.”

“How long will it take?”

“An hour, maybe ninety minutes. We have the lab on site, and I requested the tests as a priority. I can get you a private room where you’ll be comfortable, or you can wait in the cafeteria.”

“Get us a room, please.” I can’t stand crowds, and I doubt Valentina is in the mood for hospital coffee.

A nurse shows us to a room with bright yellow walls and a single bed with a blue bedspread. Quincy takes up a position by the door while I make Valentina sit on the bed. I check the time on my phone. It’s almost six. I’m about to shove it back into my pocket when it rings. Carly’s name appears on the screen.

“Excuse me.” I press a kiss on Valentina’s temple and walk to the corner of the room. “Hello, princess. Where are you?”

“I’m home. Where are you?”

“At the hospital.”

“Is something wrong?”

“I had to bring Valentina. Her wound is infected.”

“Oh, no. Tell her I hope it’s going to be okay. Listen, Mom’s here. Rhett is loading my stuff in the car.”

“Already?” I glance at Valentina. “When are you leaving?”

“We can’t wait long. Mom’s got something on. I can stop by next week.”

I’m torn in two. I don’t want to let Carly go without saying goodbye, but I don’t want to leave Valentina, either.

Valentina hops from the bed and lays her hand on my shoulder. “Carly?” she whispers.

I nod.

“Go,” she says. “I’ll be fine.”

“Give me a minute, Carly.” I put the call on hold. “I’m not leaving you. Not now.”

“Quincy is here. You heard what the doctor said. It may take an hour or more. Go say goodbye to your daughter. I’m a big girl. It’s just an infection. I’ll get a shot of potent medicine, and then I’ll be back.”

I stare at her face, her full lips, and her sad, murky eyes. Rationally, what she says makes sense, but I can’t get myself to tell Carly I’ll be home in thirty minutes.

“Go on,” she urges. “Your daughter is moving out of your house. You’re not going to let her go like this, without even being there.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a second to make my decision before taking back the call. “I’ll be home in thirty minutes.”

“Okay,” Carly says brightly. “I’ll wait for you.”

I press a hard kiss to Valentina’s lips. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her I love her, but I swallow the words back just in time. A shiver of shock runs down my spine. What the fuck is wrong with me? The thought tumbled into my mind from nowhere. Habit. It must be habit. Whenever I had to leave Sylvia in a difficult situation, I always needed to reassure her of my feelings. I backtrack to the door and say, “I’ll be back later.”

Her smile is warm and easy. It’s a smile meant to soothe. I escape the feelings crashing down on me, leaving them in the confines of the hospital room as I flee outside.

“Stay with her,” I say to Quincy, “and call me when there’s news. Anything she needs, anything at all, don’t hesitate.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Give me the car keys. I’m going to the house, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He fishes the keys from his pocket and hands them to me.

“Don’t move away from this door. Keep her safe.”

He flicks his jacket aside, showing me the gun that’s tucked in his waistband.

I leave the hospital with mixed feelings. If Sylvia was reasonable, I would’ve asked her to wait, but she’s not, and she’ll be especially difficult where Valentina is concerned.

The traffic is a nightmare. It takes me more than forty-five minutes to get home. Sylvia and Carly are waiting outside next to Sylvia’s overloaded convertible.

“Dad!” Carly runs to me when I get out of the car. “I knew you’d come. Told you, Mom.”

She lets me hug her, a rare occurrence. I look at the boxes and suitcases piled up on the backseat of the Mercedes. “Wow, when did you accumulate all this stuff?”

She jabs me with an elbow in the ribs. “You should know. You paid for it.”

“Can you even wear all of that?”

“It’s not only clothes,” she says indignantly. “There are books, too.”

“What, ten?”

Sylvia walks up to us in a tight-fitting, pink pencil-skirt suit. “We have to go.”

“Carly, if you need anything––”

“I’ll call.”

“No more than an hour on your phone per day and no dates without my permission.”

“Gabriel.” Sylvia gives me a hard look. “I’m her mother. I’m capable of handling these decisions.”

“But we’ll make them together.”

She moves away, doing her best not to appear abrupt in front of Carly. “She’s growing up. Accept it.”

I’m not getting into a fight with Sylvia. Not today. I kiss Carly’s cheek. “I love you, princess. You know that, right?”

She wipes her palm over her cheek. “Yuk, Dad! Since when are you all mushy?”

“Since my baby girl is growing up.” I was going to say leaving, but I don’t want her to feel guilty for spending time with her mom.

“Stop it.” She swats my arm. “You’ll make me cry, and I don’t want my mascara to run.”

“Carly.” Sylvia starts tapping her foot.

The two women make their way to the car and get inside. As the vehicle clears the gates, a feeling of desolation creeps up on me. The house is empty and purposeless. Its framework stands like a big, white elephant behind me. The pool, garden, televisions, everything was for Carly. It’s like a piece of me has left with my daughter.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, drawing my attention back to the present. There’s a text message from Quincy.

Valentina’s in surgery.