The petite brunette stiffens when I take her elbow to steer her down the stairs. Her face is ghastly white, and her whole body trembles, but she walks with a straight back. I have dragged men three times her size kicking and screaming to a tamer fate than the one awaiting her. She has guts, but I already knew that from last night.

On the pavement, I take her hand to help her down the curb. Her delicate frame grows even more rigid, but she doesn’t resist. Magda turns her head to the car window when we approach. She startles at the sight of the woman I have in the iron grip of my fingers, and then her expression turns stoic. My mother isn’t happy. This isn’t what she ordered. Tough luck. It’s not going to happen the way she wants today, but I’ve got some explaining to do.

Madga gets out, her eyes shredding me to pieces.

“Put her in the back,” I say to Quincy, handing Valentina over like a parcel.

Magda waits until Quincy shuts the door and walks to where we’re out of earshot. “She was supposed to be dead.”

“I made a deal.”

“What deal?”

“Nine years for Charlie’s debt.”

She blinks. “You’re taking her?”

I cross my arms. “Yes.”

“You want to fuck her.”

I don’t deny it. There’s no point.

“It’s not that simple, Gabriel.”

I saw her. I wanted her. I took her. Yeah, it’s that simple.

“That wasn’t the plan,” Magda insists.

“The plan changed.”

She throws her hands up in the air and starts pacing the sidewalk. “The price was death.”

“Charlie has brain damage.” That’s a tougher price than death. To me, at least. “We shouldn’t have granted him a loan.”

“Well, we did. Retard or not, showing mercy is showing our enemies we’re getting soft.”

“Nine years are not exactly mercy.” Not with what I’m planning for Valentina.

“She has to die.”

“I never go back on my word. People in our business trust us because I keep my word. Rhett and Quincy heard me make the deal.”

The charcoal lines around her eyes wrinkle. “What did you promise?”

“A live-in arrangement.”

“Arrangement?”

“I said she could work back the debt.”

Underneath Magda’s controlled exterior she’s simmering. A vein pops out on her temple. “Fine. You want to play doll? Have your fun, but we’re setting her up to fail. When she does, she’s dead and so is her brother.”

A sharp pain jolts into my damaged hip. I make a conscious effort to relax my body, muscle by muscle.

“Come on.” Magda is already on her way back to the car. “I’ll figure it out on the way home.”

For the first time, I regret never giving a fuck about professional relationship building. I don’t care what people think or about anyone but my daughter, but Magda has always cast the net out wide, catching everyone she can put in her pocket. Her network and influence stretch much further than mine. She carries all the authority in this organization. Sometimes, I have the ugly suspicion the business is the only reason she married my father, so she could take it over. She makes a hell of a tougher loan shark than he ever did, and he was a scary bastard.

I get into the back with Valentina while Magda sits up front with Quincy.

“Drive,” she tells my bodyguard.

Quincy and Magda are quiet, I guess because of the girl. An intense awareness of the woman next to me and my power over her spreads through my body, making me hard.

Fuck me. I own her.

She’s mine.

The thought gives me a head rush. She’s so small she looks like the doll Magda accused me of wanting to play with. Upright, Valentina barely reaches my chest. Her bones are fragile enough to crush under the lightest pressure. If I hug her too tight, her ribs may crack. I can wrap one hand around her slender neck. How hard I choose to close my fingers will be the discerning factor between life and death. Yet, she attacked me when Rhett shot her dog. She gave me an order when she told me to let Charlie Haynes go. She’s strong and loyal.

I’m both fascinated and jealous of her love for her brother. No one has ever fought for me like that, and I doubt anyone ever will. Throwing any duty I see fit into the package was a test. I wanted to see how far she was willing to go for Charlie, not that her decision would’ve changed anything. I took ownership of her the minute I laid eyes on her. Last night, I already knew I was going to take her. Regardless.

When the club manager at Napoli’s called to let me know my mother’s target was in, the said target being Charlie, my plan was to go in, take Charlie out, and then his sister, who would’ve been home alone. Making examples of people who don’t pay is standard procedure. Some people don’t fear for themselves, but they always fear for their families. By Magda’s design, Valentina would’ve been the sacrifice to serve as a reminder to our debtors as long as they owe, their families aren’t safe.

Then I stepped out of the office, and there she was, all tits, ass, and legs. No woman, except for the prostitutes, goes into Napoli’s willingly. A nerve pinches between my shoulder blades when I think of what could’ve happened to her had I not been there. She’s either extremely naïve or stupidly brave. After this morning, I suspect the latter.

Come to think of it, I don’t get how she survived here this long. According to Jerry, she’s been residing in Berea for six years. The shithole she lived in is in drug valley. It’s a surprise the drug and sex lords haven’t kidnapped and sold her or a street gang hasn’t raped and killed her yet. There are infinitely dark things that can happen to an unprotected, beautiful girl in this neighborhood.

I watch her from the corner of my eye. In the twenty minutes we’ve being driving, she hasn’t said a word. Her brown hair is long and wavy, curling down her shoulders. A clean smell clings to her, like fragrance shampoo or body lotion. I like it. Complex perfumes give me a headache. In the white shorts and yellow tank top, her toned legs and rounded breasts are exposed to me. So is the vein that pulses under the golden skin of her neck. Her fear excites me. Her courage intrigues me. Long, dark lashes shutter the expression in her brown eyes from me. She’s pretending to look through the window, but I know she’s aware of me, and the gun resting in my lap.

The weapon is cool in my hand. I’m long since past the stage where my palms get sweaty before a job. I don’t mind the killing. I live in a violent city. Only the toughest survive, and I’m a survivor. I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger if anyone threatens or harms my family. Lay a finger on my property, and I’ll break it off. I was the kind of kid who took pleasure in breaking other boys’ toys. I still break. Mostly bones, these days. When it comes to hearts, I only break what’s already broken. That way, I don’t have to take responsibility for anyone’s feelings. Now I’ve taken responsibility for a person on a whole different level. At least there’s no risk of breaking Valentina’s heart. She already hates me, and with what I’m planning for her body, she’ll only hate me more, but she’ll need me with equal intensity. Of that, I’ll make sure.

Her gaze widens fractionally as we pull up to our property. It’s a double-story mansion on big grounds surrounded by a six feet-wall fitted with electrified barbed wire and twenty-four hour, armed guards. In this city, only people with money are safe. She keeps her face perfectly blank as we clear the gates. The original Frank Emley design dates from the early 1900s and combines various styles with a strong Victorian influence, iron work, stone walls, and art nouveau stained glass windows. It’s smack-bam in the heart of Parktown, in the middle of the homes of the bankers, diamond dealers, politicians, and everyone else who can be bought.

Quincy parks and opens the door for Magda first, then for me. While I’m stretching my stiff leg, he lets Valentina out and hovers with her purse and travel bag in front of the fountain.

“I’ll take that.” I grab her possessions and grip her arm to lead her up the porch steps. My fingers overlap the small diameter of her upper arm. This is the point where I expect her to kick in her heels and scream, but she remains eerily calm.

Magda overtakes us on the stairs. “One wrong move, one wrong word to anyone, and Charlie is dead. Get that?”

Valentina tilts her head away from my mother, a tremor running through her body.

Marie, our faithful old cook, opens the door. Her face freezes when her eyes land on the young woman.

“Prepare the maid’s room,” Magda says. “I’ll brief you later.” She enters ahead of us. “Gabriel, bring the girl to my study.”

Before I can argue, Magda is gone. Marie’s gaze remains fixed on the woman at my side. May as well get the introduction over with.

“This is Valentina,” I say. “She’s property.”

Marie nods as if I bring property home every day, but she understands. She’s been around the block. She scurries away without offering me my usual drink.

I steer Valentina to my mother’s study and close the door. Whatever Magda is cooking up, I already don’t like it. The sight of my mother’s personal bodyguard, Scott, standing behind her chair with a pistol clutched in his hand makes me rest my hand on my own weapon tucked into my waistband. The threat is clear. Defy Magda and Valentina will end up like her dog––with a bullet between her soft, mud-brown eyes.

Magda addresses my tiny charge. “I understand you’ll be working for us.” She points at the chair facing her desk. “Sit.”

I let Valentina go. She obeys, balancing on the edge of the seat. Mirroring Scott’s stance, I remain standing, just in case.

“What are your skills?” Magda asks.

Valentina’s lashes flutter as she lifts her eyes to me. They’re big for her small face and hauntingly sad, but proud, also.

“Answer when you’re being spoken to,” Magda says in the headmistress voice she reserved for chastising me as a kid.

“I’m an assistant.”

Magda’s mouth pulls down. “That’s it?”

“I also cook and clean for my neighbor.”

Magda taps her fingernails on the desktop. After some time, she says, “You’ll work for us as a maid and whatever else Gabriel expects from you.” My mother gives me an acidic look, as if the sight of me gives her indigestion. “You’ll work Monday to Friday until dinner’s been served and the kitchen is clean. On Saturday, you’re off from five in the afternoon. You’re expected back by eight on Monday morning. If we have events at home, we expect you to work, regardless of afterhours.”

The maid idea pisses me off, but the leisure time unleashes a rage in me, not that I have any ground to stand on. It’s Magda’s business and her debt to collect. I’m only the dealmaker. My new toy better not try to escape. I bet that’s what Magda is bargaining on. It’ll give her the reason she wants to eliminate Valentina and terminate my idiotic deal, as she put it.

“You’ll keep the house tidy,” Magda continues, “and with tidy I mean spotless. Everything on the inside of the building is your responsibility, except for the cooking. Marie takes care of that. If I need you to cook, I’ll tell you. If you poison any one of us, you and your brother will die slow and painful deaths. Understand?”

Her throat moves as she swallows. “Yes.”

“Yes, Mrs. Louw or ma’am.”

Those dark eyes flash with defiance, but she averts them quickly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“If you fail in any of your tasks, the deal’s off, and you’re dead.” A sardonic light sparks in Magda’s eyes. “Work well for…” She looks at me and waits.

“Nine years,” I fill in.

“Work well for nine years,” Magda continues, “and Charlie’s debt will be paid off. We won’t pay you a salary. The money we would’ve given you will go toward the settlement of your debt. I don’t allow servants to eat from our table, but you may use the kitchen facilities to prepare your meals. Since you won’t earn cash, my son will pay you an allowance for food and personal commodities. Any questions?”

“Is there a routine I need to follow? What do I do, exactly?”

Magda gets to her feet. “You’ll figure it out. You start immediately.”

Valentina follows Magda’s lead, getting up from her chair with consternation on her face.

Before she goes, there’s one thing she needs to understand. I grab her face in one hand, digging my fingers into her cheeks. “Run from me and you’ll wish I shot you today.”

Her body is close to mine, and I can smell her scent. I fill the olfactory gap I couldn’t place in the car. Raspberry. She looks like a dove with her wings tied, but she doesn’t falter under my stare.

“Are we clear?” I ask softly. I never raise my voice. I don’t have to.

“Yes.”

“Good.” I let her go.

Her hand goes to her jaw, touching the imprint of my fingers.

“Marie will show you to your room,” Magda says. “You’ll find her in the kitchen.”

I hand Valentina her travel bag, but hold onto the purse and remain standing since I haven’t been dismissed.

The minute Valentina is gone, I say, “She doesn’t know the way.”

Magda goes to the wet bar and pours a tot of Vodka, which she dilutes with orange juice. “Letting her find her own way is her first test.”

“Meaning?”

“The hidden cameras will record any traitorous acts she may conceive in her simpleton mind, and you’ll use it to your advantage to break her.” Magda takes a sip of her drink and walks back to her desk to pick up the internal phone that connects to the kitchen.

Marie answers on the first ring with a professional, “Mrs. Louw?” that comes over the speaker.

“Order maid uniforms for Valentina and linen for her room.”

“Any preference, ma’am?”

“Black.”

“The uniform or the linen?”

“The uniform. Make the linen…” she thinks for all of one second, giving me an over-easy smile, “…white.” She hangs up and continues, “Black and white. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? It’ll remind her of what she became––our servant and your plaything.”

“She won’t run,” I say, a challenge in my voice. I just found Valentina. I’m not about to kill her on Sunday.

Magda smirks, swirling her glass. “That’s not why I gave her Sundays off.”

“Why did you?”

“To give her the illusion of freedom. Of fairness. For now, I’ll let her believe she has a chance. People without hope can’t be broken.” My mother lifts the glass to her lips. “You see? I’m giving us both what we want. You get to break her, and I get to kill her.”

Hatred laces Magda’s words. The fact that I want this woman enough to defy my mother elicits Magda’s scorn. I have no doubt she’ll make Valentina pay for causing me to stray from the not so straight and narrow path cut out for me.

At my silence, Magda says, “You understand we can’t let her meet her end of the bargain? That’ll be weak.”

“I promised her nine years.”

“I have no intention of letting her live that long.” Her smile grows until it invades all of her face. “She’s bound to screw up sooner than later.”

A sudden insight startles me. Magda is happy with the turn of events. She wants Valentina to suffer, and she’s relying on my natural disposition to make it happen.

---

My throat aches from pent-up tears as I leave Mrs. Louw’s study. If I had any hope that Gabriel’s mother would have compassion and help me, it’s been eradicated in that room. She’s worse than her son, her blackness far colder.

I’m sick to my stomach with worry over Charlie. I need to call Kris and check that he’s all right, but Gabriel gave me my clothes and held onto my purse with my phone. I can’t allow myself to think about this morning or Puff. Not yet. For now, I need to be strong.

With the imminent danger of death over, reality crashes down on me. Despair seeps into my pores. The calculation is harrowing. I’ll be thirty-two before I walk free. If I ever walk free. There’s no doubt in my mind Gabriel will kill me without blinking an eye. I know men like him. My father was one. The servant role isn’t only to pay off a debt. It’s a means of degrading me. I have no issue pulling the hair from Gabriel’s shower or scrubbing his toilet. What’s killing me is sleeping under his roof and eating food he pays for. I’m forced to allow my enemy to take care of me. It feels personal and wrong. The last thing I want from Gabriel is any kind of care. I’ll talk to Kris and negotiate to work Sundays. That way I’ll still be able to pay for my studies. No matter what, I’m not giving it up. It’s my only hope, our ticket out of Berea. I’ll just have to put my plans on the backburner for nine years.

After getting lost in corridors and too many rooms with sofas and chairs––How many lounges can one family need?––I finally locate the kitchen at the far east end of the mansion. The size of the house overwhelms me. It’s going to be a hell of a job to keep the place spotless.

Marie waits for me in a sterile looking kitchen, a hostile expression on her face. “I better show you around.”

Wordlessly, I fall in behind her. We go through the ground level with its reading, sitting, television, entertainment, and dining rooms, and up a flight of stairs. The bedrooms and bathrooms on the first level are luxurious and comfortable. As we move along, my heart sinks lower and lower. It’s too much.

“Who’s currently cleaning the house?”

Marie looks at me as if I asked her for a gold coin. “A cleaning service. I presume since you’re here, they’ll be fired.”

Poor people. They’re going to lose a big contract, but at least they’re free.

At a wooden door with an intricate carving, she stops. “This is his bedroom. Next door is Miss Carly’s. Mr. Louw’s mother is at the opposite end.”

She knocks on Miss Carly’s door and opens it without waiting for a reply.

A girl of about sixteen lies on her stomach on the bed. The room is one of the prettiest I’ve seen. It’s decorated in blue with whitewashed furniture.

“Carly,” Marie says, “this is Valentina. She’s the new live-in.”

Carly lifts her head to look me up and down before burying her face in her iPad again.

“His daughter,” Marie says, closing the door. She lowers her voice. “She sometimes lives with her mom, but she’s mostly here.”

So, Gabriel and Carly’s mom are separated or divorced.

We explore the house until we end up back in the kitchen. Only the kitchen is surgical white. It’s not a room the inhabitants of the house live in. There’s no breakfast nook, books, or flowers, not a trace of warmth. It’s a functional room equipped for the staff. This is where Marie pauses the longest to show me the adjoining scullery where they keep the household appliances and a fridge for the staff.

“You can keep your food here,” Marie says. “The one in the pantry is only for the family.”

Cleaning products are neatly stacked on the shelves on the wall. Everything is tidy and in its place. At least there are a state-of-the-art vacuum cleaner and washing machine to work with.

“Do you know how to operate these?” Marie points at the washing machine and tumble dryer.

I nod, even if I don’t. I washed our clothes in the bathtub, but how difficult can it be to figure out a washing machine?

“The washing has to be sun-dried,” Marie explains, “unless it rains. Mrs. Louw doesn’t believe in wasting electricity.”

From the scullery, a door leads to the maid quarters. This is where I’ll be sleeping for the next nine years. I put my head around the frame. The room is small, the double bed taking up most of the space, but the cream-colored carpet is clean, and the mattress looks new. The paint is white, and there are no foul smells or damp to darken the walls. A connecting door gives access to a small bathtub with a shower nozzle fitted inside, a basin, and toilet. It’s much better than what I’m used to. There are no linen or towels, and I didn’t bring any, but I don’t ask.

“Well,” Marie dusts her hands, “I’ll let you get on with it. Your uniforms will arrive later. For now, you’ll have to work like this.” She gives my legs a disapproving look.

“Can I have my phone?”

“You’ll have to ask Mr. Louw about that.”

The minute she’s gone, I use the bathroom to splash water on my face. The enormity of the situation pushes down on my chest. I can’t breathe. Needing air, I open the window, letting the breeze on my wet cheeks cool me. From here, I have a view over an enclosed courtyard. There’s a circular clothesline in the center and a wheelbarrow pushed up against the wall. Through the open door giving access to the backyard, the blue water of a pool is visible.

Since I don’t know how to go about my new job with the massive size of the house, I decide to dive into the deep end and swim. It’s an approach that always works for me. For the next few hours, I work out a plan of action as I go, starting with laundry and dusting, then vacuuming and finally washing the floors and windows. My mind is filled with Charlie and Puff, and even if I can’t fight my tears, I can hide them while I bend my head over the mop. As I mourn for Puff, I let my hate for Gabriel and the guy who shot him ripen. The only ray of hope in this nightmare is that today is Wednesday. On Sunday, I’ll see Charlie.

---

In the late afternoon, Gabriel summons me to the reading room. Stepping inside, I’m taken aback by the presence of an elderly man dressed in a Mandela style shirt and chinos.

Gabriel turns to me. “This is Dr. Samuel Engelbrecht. He’s going to take a blood sample and examine you.”

I look between the men. “What for?”

Gabriel ignores my question. “Are you on birth control?”

The wind is knocked out of me by the implication of the question, even if I expected it as an inevitable part of the deal I’d made. If the doctor recognizes the shock on my face, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“No,” I force through dry lips.

The doctor offers me an impersonal smile. “Take off your clothes and lie down on the couch, my dear.”

I can’t move. I’m stuck to the carpet.

“How long do you need?” Gabriel asks.

“Twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be back for her.”

On his way to the door, he stops in front of me. “If he hurts you, I’ll kill him.”

Dr. Engelbrecht chuckles over his open doctor’s case. “It’s not nice to make jokes like that.”

“It’s no joke.”

Gabriel says it with a smile, but his words send a shiver down my spine. He walks from the room, shutting me inside with the doctor.

“Come now,” the doctor says, “I don’t have all day.”

It’s embarrassing to undress in front of a stranger who knows my employer is going to fuck me. My whole body blushes as I kick off my trainers, push down my shorts, and peel off my top.

He must see many patients at home, because he’s well prepared. A disposable sheet is already spread out on the couch. I keep my eyes fixed on the ceiling as I lay down, trying to go someplace dark in my head.

He fits on a pair of surgical gloves. “Bend your knees.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Don’t worry, my dear, it’s just a pap smear. You’re supposed to do it every year. First time?”

I nod. It’s not like I have money for doctors’ visits.

He chats through the examination to put me at ease, but I’m tense, and when he takes the sample it hurts. He lets me get dressed before he takes my blood. He’s just about done when Gabriel steps back into the room.

He walks to the couch where I’m sitting with my arm on the armrest while my blood runs into a vial. “How did it go?”

It’s the doctor who answers. “Very well. I’ll have the results tomorrow.”

I guess Gabriel wants to be sure I’m clean. Can’t blame him, seeing where I come from.

“Depending on the hormone level results,” Dr. Engelbrecht continues, “I’ll drop off an oral contraceptive.” He removes the needle and gives me a cotton swab to press on the wound. After packing the samples in his bag, he removes the gloves, shakes Gabriel’s hand, and takes his leave.

I stare at Gabriel when we’re alone, heat burning under the neckline of my top. “You could’ve warned me.”

“It would’ve stressed you unnecessarily.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” I say, jumping to my feet. “I may be working for you, but it’s still my body.”

“No, beautiful.” He gives me a calculated look. “I beg to differ.”

I don’t have a reply. All I can do is rush past him, escaping the unsettling situation, and for now he lets me.

---

The hard physical labor is an outlet for my anger, frustration, and even a bit of my fear. As I don’t run into anyone while I’m cleaning, a false sense of calmness settles over me, but I start to stress again when I realize I can only manage the ground level in whatever time of the day is left. At least the house is immaculate. I can start with the first floor tomorrow. I won’t manage unless I work on a rotation basis, deep cleaning some rooms only every second or third day.

I don’t stop for lunch, and I never had breakfast. By the time I walk into the kitchen at sunset, I’m famished, sweaty, and tired, but everything downstairs is sparkling clean. Marie is stirring a pot on the stove. The delicious fragrance of tomato and beef stew fills my nostrils. My treacherous stomach gives a growl. My body doesn’t understand pride or honor. It’s ruled by the simple survival needs of hunger and thirst. Taking a glass from the cupboard, I fill it under the tap and drink deeply.

Marie wipes her hands on her apron. “I kept you a sandwich.” She motions at a plate under a fly net on the counter with a white envelope next to it. “Mr. Louw left your food allowance. He said you won’t leave the property before Saturday, but if you write down what you need, I’ll order it for you. We have a delivery service that comes every day.”

Of course they do.

Glancing at the wall clock, the housekeeper continues, “I’m off. The dinner is ready. Mrs. Louw is going out, tonight. Set the table for Mr. Louw and Miss Carly in the informal dining room. Make sure the kitchen is clean and the table set for breakfast before you go to bed. Mr. Louw usually sees to his own breakfast as he eats before I get on duty. I’ll be in at eight.”

A soft meow sounds from the door. I look down into a pair of yellow eyes flecked with green. A gray cat, his tail and paws tipped with white, runs inside and rubs against my leg.

I bend down to pet him. “Hello, you. What’s your name?”

“That’s Oscar,” Marie replies.

From her tone, I gather she doesn’t care much for him.

“He’s Mr. Louw’s late grandmother’s cat.”

Pleased with the attention, the tabby flops onto his side. He stretches when I scratch his chin.

“Nothing but a nuisance,” Marie says with a click of her tongue.

This makes me like her even less. I don’t trust people who don’t like animals. “He seems quiet enough.”

She snorts. “Pisses everywhere. You’ll see how much you like him when you have to clean it.”

“Has he been neutered?” I lift a back leg for a better look. Yep.

A puff of air escapes her lips. “Like I’d know.” Marie takes her jacket and purse from a hook behind the door. “See you tomorrow at eight.” She shuts the backdoor behind her with a firm click.

Curious, I tear open the envelope with my name on it and peer inside. I’m surprised to pull out eleven five hundred rand bills, five hundred more than my monthly wage. It’s a lot more generous than I expected. I contemplate refusing the money on the principle, but I don’t have a choice. Without an income, I can’t take care of Charlie and pay for my studies. Or eat. Feeling my hunger with full-blown force, I refill my glass with water.

At the sound of the running tap, Oscar twitches his ears.

“Are you thirsty? Where’s your bowl?”

When I move toward the door, he jumps to his feet and scoots past me to the scullery. There, next to the dishwasher, are two porcelain bowls, one filled with water and the other with kibbles. It doesn’t take me long to locate the bag of pet food under the sink. It’s a cheap brand, one with more fiber than nutritional value. Typically, it’s manufactured to fill, but not to nourish. I top off the food, rinse the water bowl before refilling it with fresh water, and make myself at home on the floor next to Oscar where I feed him pieces of the ham and cheese I dig out of the sandwich. Not the healthiest meal for him, either, but at least it’s tastier than the cardboard they’re feeding him. The food makes Oscar my new best friend. As I set the table and bring the laundry in from outside, he stays by my side, stealing hopeful glances at me that I can only reward with caresses, at least until I have my own groceries.

It’s late, but I’m worried I won’t have time to catch up with all the outstanding work tomorrow, so I fold the clothes I can and put the shirts and dresses for ironing aside. As I wait for the iron to heat up in the scullery, I hear sounds in the kitchen. Immediately, my stomach tightens. How, I don’t know, but I know it’s him. It’s as if the air thickens, making it difficult to breathe. I pinch my eyes shut and hold my breath, hoping he’ll leave, but the iron hisses and spits, giving away my hiding place.

At the sound, Gabriel sticks his head around the corner. His eyes fix on me, and then on Oscar by my feet. It’s difficult to read him. He’s looking at me like he’s appraising me or trying to find fault. I hate that he makes me fear. I hate even more that he makes me curious. I try not to stare, but the scars on his face have a magnetic pull on my gaze. What kind of weapon creates such scars? What kind of man survives it? I can’t look away from the challenge in his stare.

Finally, the harsh lines of his mouth soften a fraction. “You better serve dinner while it’s warm.” Abruptly, he turns and leaves.

I let go of the breath I was holding, my chest deflating as his presence fades and the air decompresses again.

Carly sits at the table opposite her father, a smart phone in her hand, when I enter with a tray loaded with dishes. She doesn’t look up from texting as I place everything in the center of the table. In contrast, Gabriel’s eyes follow me around the room. I become intensely aware of my clothes and the state of my body. My skin is shiny with perspiration. I need a shower. To add to my discomfort, he inhales audibly as I sweep past him.

When the tray is offloaded, he nods at me. “Serve us, then leave.”

I lift the lid on the bowl of rice and carry it to Carly. “Rice, miss?” I try to hide my discomfort as I’m forced to grovel and bow to my brother’s enemy.

No reply. Her head remains bent over her phone, causing her wheat-colored hair to fall in a veil around her face. I hover until the slam of Gabriel’s palm on the table make both Carly and I jump. The cutlery and glasses clatter from the force.

“Put away your phone, Carly. If I see it at the dinner table again, I’ll confiscate it.”

She glares at him with a cool, blue gaze. “Then I’ll have dinner at Mom’s.”

A muscle twitches under one eye before he narrows both. “You’re welcome to, but since I pay your allowance, your phone stays here.”

She throws the phone down on the table, the mobile hitting the wood with a thud. “Fine.”

“Valentina asked you a question.”

She looks at me as if I’m the reason for their argument. “What?”

“Rice, miss?” I repeat, keeping my face void of emotion.

“For God’s sake.” She sighs with an exaggerated eye roll. “Call me Carly. I hate to be called miss.”

“Rice, Carly?” I say flatly.

She steals a glance at her father and mumbles, “What the hell ever.”

Gabriel’s knuckles turn white around the stem of his glass. I can’t get out of there fast enough. The atmosphere is so thick with tension I want to choke. I return to my ironing and listen, but there’s nothing but the clanging of their cutlery and the clinking of their glasses as the meal progresses in silence.

By the time they’re done, so am I. All the shirts are folded to perfection, a hated curse pressed into every, neat line. The dining room is empty when I clear the table. Loud music comes from upstairs. I don’t want to contemplate the difficulties of Gabriel’s relationship with his daughter. I don’t care.

When I get to my room, there are towels and a heap of linen on the bed, together with my purse. In the cupboard, I find three black maid’s dresses in my size. There’s no key in the lock and no chair or other piece of furniture I can push against the door, not that it will do me any good. I made a deal with a monster, and the only way to survive is to honor it.

The first thing I do, is extract my phone and call Kris.

She answers immediately. “Tell me you’re all right.”

“I’m fine.”

“Where are you?”

“At Gabriel Louw’s house.”

“Did he…?”

A flush works its way up my neck. He will, but I can’t tell Kris. She’s got enough on her plate. “No. How’s Charlie?”

“He was upset when I fetched him, but he’s calm, now. He’s watching television.”

“Thank you, Kris.” I blink away the moisture in my eyes. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“You did the right thing to call me. I was worried sick about you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I tried your phone several times. Why didn’t you answer?”

“I was working.”

“Doing what?”

I clear my throat. “Maid.”

“Maid or whore?”

“Kris, please.”

“Val, you’re worth more than that.”

“I’m doing what I have to.” A sudden wave of tiredness washes over me. “Can you please keep Charlie until the weekend? It’s a lot to ask, but I’ve got no other options. I’ll come visit on Saturday, and we can talk.”

“Okay.” She gives a relieved laugh. “I thought you’re a prisoner or something.”

“Can I say hello to Charlie?”

“Of course. Hold on.”

She calls my brother’s name. A second later his sweet voice comes onto the line.

“Va–Val?”

“Hey, how are you doing?”

“Bu–burgers.”

“Kris made burgers?”

“Ye–yeah.”

“You’re going to stay with Kris for a while. I have a new job, and it requires that I stay in.”

“Wi–will you vi–visit?”

“Every week.”

“Whe–when?”

“Saturday.”

“Sa–Saturday.”

“Don’t worry about a thing. I’m going to take care of you.”

“Ta–take care.”

“I’ll see you on Saturday, okay?”

“Sa–Saturday.”

“I love you, and remember to be brave.”

“Lo–love you, to–too.”

I hang up and stare at the phone for several seconds, battling to process how quickly our lives have changed. It’s no use crying over things I can’t change. I’ve gotten through bad situations before. I can get through this.

Exhausted, I make the bed and have a quick shower. I try not to think about the fact that it’s his water or that I have to sleep in a bed that belongs to him, between his sheets, under his roof. Too weary to dry my hair, I pull on my nightgown and get into bed. My thoughts dwell on Charlie and Puff as my head hits the pillow. I want to say a prayer for them, but I’m so tired I fall asleep halfway into it, only to be jerked awake to a familiar and threatening presence in the room.