My heart lurches in my chest. Maybe he hasn’t seen me. I clutch the bag to my body, searching for a side road to slip into, but it’s too late. The man heads straight for me. I know that step. There’s a slight bend to his knees, and his arms are spread wide. My breathing quickens, and my body breaks out in a sweat, but I lift my chin and give him a defiant stare when he stops in front of me.

“Well, now,” Tiny says, “if it ain’t Little Red Riding Hood.”

“I don’t have time for your games.”

I try to move past him, but he grabs my arm.

“No time for Tiny? My, my, are you an uppity-ass, now?”

“Unlike you, I work. Let me go or I’ll be late.”

“High and mighty, huh? Tiny heard you left. Tiny was watching your flat, waiting for you.”

His words shake me. I didn’t run into him by chance. He waited for me.

“Tiny…” I want it to sound like a warning, but there’s a wheeze in my voice.

“You still owe Tiny. You’ll always owe Tiny. Tiny has waited long enough.”

He starts dragging me by my arm toward an alley. I kick in my heels and try to pry his fingers open, but his grip is like steel. Panic gets the better of me. This time is different. If he was going to fuck my mouth he would’ve done it in the street, as always.

“Tiny, no!”

“You can scream all you like. Nobody gives a fuck.”

He shoves me down the foul-smelling alley all the way to the end where the exit is blocked by overflowing trashcans and rips the plastic bag from my hands. Peering inside, he takes out my purse, drops it on the ground by his feet, and throws the rest onto the heap of garbage.

“Come here, white bitch.” He takes a wide stance and feels his way up under my dress, dragging his sweaty palms over my hip and stomach.

Oh, God, I’m going to be sick. “Don’t.”

“Or what?”

My defenselessness infuriates me. The anger boils over. I pull back and punch him on the jaw as hard as I can. For all of one second he’s off balance, but before I’m one step away, he grabs my arm and throws me against the wall. My back hits the bricks with a thud. He slaps me so hard my ears ring.

“Fucking bitch.”

I scream and scratch, my fingers going for his eyes while my knee aims for his crotch, but he catches my wrists above my head and presses my body to the wall with his weight.

“Wanna fight?” he hisses, the repugnant air from his mouth fanning my face.

“Let me go!”

He laughs and shifts, holding me secure with one hand to stick the other down the front of my panties. “What have you been doing with this cunt, huh?” His fingers drag over my clit, parting my folds.

I press my knees together, but it’s no use. He wiggles his fist until it’s lodged between my legs, forcing my thighs open.

He licks my neck, inviting a shiver of repulse.

“Tiny’s gonna fuck you so hard, you’re gonna forget your name.”

His upper body crushes me. I almost sigh in relief when he pulls his hand from my underwear, only to cry out in despair when he shoves his pants down over his hips.

Please, no. Not this.

He knocks my knuckles into the wall, but I hardly feel the pain. I need to fight. I struggle like mad person, which only makes him laugh. By the time he has his dick out of his underwear and my dress hitched up to my waist, I’m already panting from the exertion of fighting him while he hasn’t even broken into a sweat.

“Tiny.” The plea falls from my lips while tears stream down my cheeks.

“Yeah, say my name, bitch.”

When he rubs up against me, I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. The fear I’ve fought against my whole life finally gets to me, making my throat constrict and my heart pump with furious beats. It’s difficult to breathe. It happens all over again, the man who raped me. I fight the images that play over in my mind, but I’m back in the bar where the men dragged me, on my back on the pool table while the one with the deep voice unzips his fly, and the rest watch. I’m in a zone where I don’t want to be, but I can’t come back. Tiny’s hand is around his flaccid cock, pumping it to life, but I already feel the tear in my body and the dribble of blood running down my legs.

“Get your hands off her.”

The voice that spoke isn’t part of the memory. The men cheered him on. They didn’t tell him to remove his hands. They were filming it, laughing as I cried.

“Now.”

The deadly calm in the baritone voice is dangerous. It’s like this morning’s quiet before the storm. Tiny freezes, bringing my attention back to him, to the present. He drops his penis and lifts his hands, glancing over his shoulder as he takes a step back.

“Easy, man,” he says in a thin voice. “You’re interrupting our fun.”

“Fun?” The tall, broad figure in the dark steps forward, a gun aimed at Tiny.

His face is in the shadows, but I know it’s him. I know his voice, his shape, his smell, his very presence.

“Doesn’t look like she’s having fun,” Gabriel says.

“Whoa.” Tiny laughs nervously. “You’ve got it all wrong, here. Tiny ain’t doing nothing wrong. She’s Tiny’s bitch. Ain’t you, honey? Come on, love.” He jerks his head in Gabriel’s direction. “Tell the man.”

Gabriel moves so fast, I don’t see it coming. The one minute he’s standing at the entrance of the alley and the next he’s in front of Tiny, hitting him in the stomach with a punch that sends him flying through the air and falling in the gutter water. Gabriel steps over him, pointing the gun at his head.

“Oh, fuck.” Tiny lifts his hands. “I’m sorry, bro. I didn’t recognize you.”

Gabriel cocks his neck, cracking a bone. “Apologize.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Louw, really I am.”

“To her, not to me, you prick.”

Tiny licks his lips and glances at me briefly before returning his gaze to the gun. “Sorry. Tiny didn’t know you and Mr. Louw are friends.”

“Friends?” Gabriel utters a cold laugh that vanishes as quickly as it started. “She’s property.”

Tiny gulps and starts crying. “Fuck, man.”

I’m shivering in my dress, feeling like I’m stuck in a very bad dream.

“Valentina.” The firm way in which Gabriel says my name commands my attention. “Walk to the street and wait on the corner.”

“No,” Tiny says, shaking his dreadlocks, snot running from his nose. “Please, fuck. No.”

Gabriel is going to shoot him.

“Gabriel, please…” I take a step toward him. I need to find a connection with him, to reason with him. “Please, look at me.”

He doesn’t look away from Tiny. “I won’t tell you again. Leave the alley and wait at the corner.”

I start crying myself, touching Gabriel’s arm. “He’s not worth it. Don’t.”

I can’t live with myself knowing I’m the reason for another man’s death. My father is enough.

Gabriel cups my nape, and drags me closer, pressing me hard against his body without moving his aim from Tiny. He kisses my temple with his gaze fixed on the man on the ground and speaks softly against my ear.

“Go. Now.”

In Gabriel’s world, there’s vengeance and violence. Violence can be dissuaded, but never vengeance. I know how it works. If he doesn’t shoot Tiny, Tiny will have to kill him or look over his shoulder forever. I don’t want this for Gabriel. I don’t want him to carry another life on his conscience, especially not because of me.

“Gabriel––”

Quincy comes running down the alley. He brakes in his tracks when he takes in the scene.

Roughly, Gabriel shoves me toward Quincy. “Take her to the car.”

Quincy doesn’t hesitate. He drags me kicking and screaming down the alley, all the way to the car where Rhett waits. He bundles me into the back and wipes a hand over his face. Rhett gives me a grim look in the rearview mirror. I huddle in the corner, unable to control my shaking. I wait for a shot to go off, but hear nothing. Gabriel would use a silencer. A few seconds later, he exists the alley, adjusting his cuffs and walking with brisk strides to the car, my purse in his hands.

Once he’s in, Rhett pulls off. No one says a word on the way home. Gabriel puts his arm around me, holding me tight, and I close my eyes and cry quietly for the terrible act he committed for me.

---

At that hour, everyone at home is asleep. We park at the back so I can carry Valentina to her room without having to traverse the whole house. She objects when I lift her into my arms, but I don’t heed her. Rhett and Quincy will go back to deal with the body. They know the drill. Since that scumbag fucker son of a bitch Tiny wasn’t connected to any gang, there are no logistics or payoff to iron out. My priority is Valentina.

Oscar jumps from the tumble drier and runs ahead of me into Valentina’s room to keep guard in the windowsill. I lay her down on the bed and remove her trainers before stripping the dress. It’s going to the trashcan. I don’t want anything that filthy Zambian touched on her skin. Anyway, the dress is threadbare.

Going through the shelves of her closet, I find one T-shirt, a tank top, a pair of jeans that has seen better days, and a pair of shorts. These are all the clothes she owns? I make a mental note to go through her belongings later and grab the T-shirt.

Helping her to sit up, I dress her. After what happened, I don’t want her to feel vulnerable, and nakedness will do that.

“What time is it?” she asks.

“Almost six.”

“I need to get ready for work.”

She tries to get up, but I push her down.

“Stay.”

“I’m fine.” She looks up at me through her wet lashes, her lips quivering.

Yeah. She looks anything but fine, but she’s obstinate and worried that she’ll fail in her job and therefore get shot.

“Don’t move,” I say with enough authority to make her obey as I leave the room.

In the kitchen, I pour a stiff shot of whiskey and take a mild sedative from the medicine kit. The remedy is natural and won’t have adverse effects with the alcohol.

Sitting down on the edge of Valentina’s bed, I lift her head, slip the pill into her mouth, and hold the glass to her lips. “Drink up.”

She doesn’t argue. Her blind obedience heats my insides. It’s a huge step, and I don’t think she realizes how much trust she’s showing me.

Depositing the empty glass on the floor, I take her hand in mine. Her bones are delicate and thin in my palm––breakable. There are scratches on her knuckles, but they’re not deep. We can worry about that later. The sight of those marks unleashes the monster in me, though, and it takes some effort to calm myself enough to ask, “Do you want to talk about it?” I do, but I’m not going to push. Not now, at least.

She puts a hand on her forehead. “I–I don’t feel so good.”

My body tenses, every muscle going taught. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I just feel weird.”

“Tell me what you feel.”

“Dizzy. The world is turning.”

The effect of the alcohol is kicking in, but instead of relaxing her, it’s making her drunk.

“When was the last time you ate?” I ask with caution.

She lifts her eyes to the ceiling while she thinks. “Lunch.”

I try to keep my voice normal. “Yesterday?”

She clutches my hand like a riptide is about to pull us apart. “Gabriel?”

“It’s just the whiskey I gave you to relax. You need food. I’ll get you something to eat.”

“You don’t have to. I can.” There’s a slight thickness to her speech.

“I know you can, beautiful.”

I pry her fingers open gently and go back to the kitchen to rummage through the fridge. Going for as much carbs, fat, and protein as I can find, I pile a plate high with leftover Bacon Carbonara and add lots of cheese. While the food is heating in the microwave, I grab a fork and paper napkin. Back in her room, I prop her back up against the pillows and twist the pasta around the fork. When I bring it to her mouth, she utters a weak protest.

“Open,” I say.

Again, she obeys.

I feed her until the plate is empty before I pull her into my lap. “You should sleep now.”

She shakes her head, brushing her cheek over my chest. “Can’t. Have work to do.”

“It’s an order, not a request.”

Her eyelids are already heavy. “Thank you for saving me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Why were you there?”

I run my gaze over her face, drinking in her pretty features as the truth registers in her expression.

“You followed me?” she asks with disbelief, a tinge of hurt thrown into the mix.

“Your phone,” I replied flatly. “I planted a tracker in it before I gave it back to you.”

“Why? Don’t you trust me? Do you think I’ll run?”

If she knows the intensity of my obsession, it’ll expose the one weakness I can’t afford. I’ll lose my power over her, and that’s not something I’m willing to let go, ever, so I give her a warped version.

“You’re worth a lot of money to me, Valentina. I’m protecting my interests.”

Hurt shimmers in her eyes and creeps into the tremulous smile she gives me. “Of course. How could I forget? Four hundred thousand rand.”

I let a note of warning infuse my tone. “You chose. I never forced you.”

“You’re right.” A single tear slips free and runs over her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Her apology catches me off-guard. “About what?”

“That this morning happened.”

I catch the drop on my thumb and stick it in my mouth, tasting her sorrow. “It wasn’t your fault.” I hesitate, choosing my words carefully. I don’t want to contradict what I just said by making her feel responsible for what happened. “What were you doing back at your flat?”

“Trying to sell it.”

There can only be one reason she would risk it out there to make a sale. The state of her almost bare closet gives me a hint. “You need the money that bad?”

She looks away. “It doesn’t make sense hanging onto the place if neither me nor Charlie is going to live there.”

That’s not the point. The point is that no one is going to buy a bachelor flat in Berea. Homeless people and thugs may move in, but they’re not going to pay a cent. I get it, though. She’s proud. She doesn’t want to tell me why she wants the measly money that shithole is worth. I give her more than enough money to feed and clothe her, with plenty left to take care of her brother. It’s not that she owes anyone. I checked with the money lords. There’s something else.

“How much are you hoping to get?” I ask.

“Ten, twenty thousand, maybe?”

If this is part of a scheme to pay me back quicker, I’ll play along for now. In time, she’ll understand I’m not letting her go. Anyway, she won’t get a lousy buck for the place. If she wants twenty grand, I’ll give it to her.

“I’ll handle the sale for you.” She doesn’t have to know I’ll be the one to buy it. “You’re never going back to that area. Do you understand?”

“Oh, no.” Her eyes grow large. “I’m not making my problem yours. I can do it.”

“I know you can do it, but I said I’ll deal with the agent. End of discussion. There are too many others like Tiny out there.”

She goes quiet at the mention of the fucker’s name. Way to go, Louw. Why don’t you rub her face in it?

“You shot him, didn’t you?” she asks in a small voice.

I hug her tighter. “He’ll never bother you again.” I’m afraid to ask, but I need to know if I should call out a doctor. “Did he hurt you?”

“Some.”

I go cold, the fury from earlier reviving in my veins. “How?”

“When he slapped me. My hands.”

That explains the bruises on her knuckles. “Anything else?”

“Not like that.”

Relief has me close my eyes briefly. “It wasn’t the first time he bothered you.” I of all people know when a man is proprietorial, and Tiny acted like she was territory.

“He collected levies for our building. It doesn’t matter now.”

It does. I can only imagine how he made her pay. The thought has a nerve twitch in the back of my eye, making my eyeball jump in the socket.

“What did he do to you?”

“Nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

“It wasn’t always like this. Today was different.”

The light bulb goes on in my head. “He made you give him head,” I state matter-of-factly, keeping the agonizing rage from my voice, because I need to know.

“I gave nothing,” she bits out. “He used my mouth, but I didn’t give him a single damn thing.”

That lowlife fucking son of a bitch. I wish I had more control back in that alley, enough to hold back from shooting him straight away. I should’ve tortured him to death, starting by cutting off his dick. The irony of the situation isn’t lost on me. I’m condemning an already dead man to a slow, painful death for something I’m guilty of myself. I took her and decided to keep her. I eat her pussy every night and get off on her climaxes. I stuck my dick in her mouth and shot my load down her throat. Yes, I’m no goddamn better than the man I killed for her today, but she’s mine. Tiny had no right to lay his hands on her.

Turning my scars toward the shadows, I bring my head down and brush our lips together. I want to wipe the imprint of every other man’s dick on her lips away. I press my lips on the mouth that cocksucker Tiny abused God knows how many times.

“There.” Despite my dark mood, I try to keep things light. “All kissed better.”

A smile curves her lips. She looks so damn innocent looking at me like this. After what happened to her, the enormity of the oral sex weighs heavy on my shoulders. She’s mine like no other person has been, not even my ex-wife. When I took possession of her body, I also committed myself to take care of her feelings. I’m training her body to want me, because God knows I’m too ugly to inspire spontaneous desire in a woman, let alone love, but she needs to understand sucking my cock isn’t mandatory.

I smooth my hand over her hair. “You never have to do that again. Not for anyone. Not even me.”

She lifts her head to look at me, her brown eyes soft and wide. “It wasn’t the same. With you, I wanted to.”

The alcohol loosens her tongue, but it also makes her speak the truth. A foreign feeling crushes my chest. Gratitude. It’s the first time in my life I feel gratitude toward anyone.

Not knowing what to do with the emotion, I rock her in my arms until she drifts off. For a long time I hold her, until Marie is about to arrive. Easing her limp body down on the mattress, I cover her with the duvet and put Oscar on the bed to keep her company. I go straight to my study to call my PI. I prefer to conduct sensitive calls in a room swept for bugs every day.

Anton answers on the first ring. “Gabriel,” he says jovially, “what can I do for you?”

“I need a detailed report on the financial activity of Valentina Haynes and anything you can get on her history.”

“Marvin Haynes’ daughter?”

“The one and only.”

“I’m on it. By when do you need it?”

“Yesterday.”

“I don’t know why I still ask.”

I’m about to head for a shower when Rhett returns.

“The flat was broken into,” he says. “I spoke to the agent Valentina met there. Apparently, the place was turned upside down.”

Why the fuck would someone burglar her place when it’s under our protection? It’s a stupid act only an idiot on a suicide mission would risk.

“Any leads?” I ask tightly.

“No. Must be a random break-in, maybe a thief who’s new to the neighborhood and doesn’t know shit about the hierarchy.”

True. There are thousands of murderers and thieves out there. Not everyone is familiar with the families or how we operate. Still, I smell a rat, and I don’t like it.

I give him a pat on the shoulder. “Get some rest.”

He’s been up with me all night. If the business meeting on Saturday hadn’t run overtime, I would’ve been home before Valentina left for the weekend. I was irritated for not being able to see her before she was off for two nights and a day. I tracked her via her phone to Orange Grove, and when she went back to Berea, we spent the night outside her flat, parked in a nearby street. I was lucky I checked the tracker when I did, or I wouldn’t have noticed she was on the move, being attacked in a dirty alley by that filthy Zambian. I didn’t expect her to leave that early. My bodyguards must think I’m crazy, but they’re wiser than to comment. I could’ve broken down her new door again and dragged her home to safety, but I want Valentina to have an illusion of freedom. Magda wants her to have hope, but I want her to be happy. Suddenly and inexplicably, it’s important to me.

---

It’s after noon when I wake with a start. Ice fills my veins when the memory of this morning floods my mind. Gabriel shot a man because of me. I know it’s not the first man he’s killed, and it won’t be the last, but I didn’t want to be responsible. If I’m to function today, I can’t think about it. Pushing the dark memory from my mind, I pull on a uniform and braid my hair.

Marie looks up when I enter the kitchen, her face pulled into a scowl. “Mr. Louw said you’re sick. Apparently, so is Carly. Must be a bug going through the house. I made the beds, but you better see to the laundry.”

I grab the washing basket and brush past her to fetch the dirty clothes from the bedrooms. Before I reach Carly’s room, heated voices coming through the open door stop me in my tracks.

“Dad, come on, I’m old enough to go on a date.”

“Not with a boy I don’t know from Adam.”

“You want to know every boy who asks me out on a date? Jesus, Dad, they’re too scared of you to come to our house. I may as well become a nun now and get it over with.”

“Watch your tongue, young lady.”

“All the girls in my class are going with dates. It’s only a movie.”

“I said no.”

“I’ll look like an idiot if I go alone. Everyone will think I couldn’t get a date.”

“If that’s your only motivation for wanting to go with him, you’re not doing it for the right reason.”

“Dad!”

“If it’s really such a big deal, I’ll get the Hills’ boy to go with you.”

“You’re mean and cruel! I don’t like Anthony Hill. I like Sebastian.”

“I don’t give a damn. I don’t trust a man I don’t know, and I don’t know Sebastian.”

“You’re ruining my life!” Carly storms from the room, her eyes brimming with tears. “I hate you!”

She runs down the stairs, her sobs audible until the front door slams behind her. When I look around the door, Gabriel stands in the middle of the room, his eyes closed and his head turned up to the ceiling.

“What are you doing?” Magda says behind me, making me jump. “Eavesdropping?”

“Laundry.” I lift the basket.

“Get on with it then.”

I get out of her way and load the washing machine, but I can’t stop thinking about Carly. In some regards she’s a brat, but I feel for her. I remember what is was like when my father told me who I’d marry and that I’d never be allowed to go out with other boys. At the time, it felt like my world had come to an end.

Later, when I wash the windows, I see Carly sitting outside by the pool, her cheeks streaked with tears. I pour a glass of lemonade and carry it outside.

Leaving it on the table next to her, I say, “I’m sorry you’re upset.”

She crosses her arms. “I’m sure you are.”

“He’s just being protective.”

“He’s a pain in the ass.”

My mom always paved the way for me with my dad. “Why don’t you ask your mom to speak to him?”

She snorts. “Like that will help. She’s ten times worse.”

“When is this big night?”

“Friday.”

“Maybe he’ll come around.”

“If that’s what you think, you don’t know my father.”

I stare down into her unhappy face, seeing myself at a younger age when I already knew I’d never have love, not the kind people marry for, anyway. Maybe it’s the futility of my life, of my own unhappy existence that makes me blurt out, “Do you want me to speak to him?”

She jerks her head up, her lips parted. “Will you?”

“I can’t guarantee he’ll listen, but I can try.”

She turns her face toward the pool, staring at the blue water with empty eyes. “I guess you’re my only shot. No one else will try.”

“All right. Now cheer up. Sulking gives you wrinkles.”

A smile almost curves her lips.

---

I’m poring over the information Anton sent about Valentina––the general stuff that’s easy to come by––when the object of my research walks into my study.

“Excuse me, do you have a minute?”

Lowering the report, I scrutinize her. She looks pale. “Feeling better?”

“Yes.” She fixes her gaze on the carpet and shuffles her feet. “Thank you.”

She’s nervous. “What is it, Valentina?”

“Earlier on, back there,” she throws a thumb in a general direction, “I couldn’t help but overhear the argument.”

I lean back in my chair and narrow my gaze. “With Carly?”

“It’s none of my business, but––”

“Damn right, it’s not.” Carly is my daughter, and whatever issues I have as a father are private.

At my tone, her eyes grow large. I can practically see the fear bleeding into them. Making a conscious effort to soften my tone, I say, “Whatever you want to say, I’m sure you mean well, but your opinion is unwanted.” I turn my face to the computer screen, not dismissing her, but showing her she no longer has my undivided attention.

For a moment, she says nothing. I believe she’s going to bolt, but then she lifts her chin and looks down at me from her meager height.

“Gabriel.”

All I want is to throw her over the desk and fuck her, but in this, I have to show her her place.

“It’s sir when I’m not going down on you.”

Her cheeks turn pink, but she stands her ground, her gorgeous courage making me hot around my collar and hard in my pants.

“Sir, I promised Carly I’d speak to you. You can do to me whatever you want, listen or not listen, but I won’t break my promise.”

The chair scrapes over the floor as I push it back and get to my feet. “I won’t tell you again, keep your nose out of my business.”

The hem of her dress trembles––her knees must be shaking––but she doesn’t back down. “You’re making a mistake.”

I round the desk and stop in front of her. “Am I, now?”

“You should let Carly decide who she wants to go out with.”

“You would know.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not a parent. Until you are, keep your opinion to yourself.”

She cranes her neck to look me in the eyes. “No, I’m not a parent, but I’ve been there. I know what it feels like.”

The angry part of me stills as I picture her as a young woman asking her father’s permission to go out on a date. From the report I just read, I know she was only thirteen when he died, way too young to date, but I’m curious.

“My father already decided who I was going to marry when I turned ten. It didn’t matter what I wanted or how I felt. My mother was already gathering a trousseau for the day I’d turn eighteen. My father passed away early, saving me from that fate, but if he’d still been alive, I would’ve been far, far away from here.”

There’s nowhere far enough she could’ve run. Marvin would’ve found her. He was a small fish in a big pond, but he was part of the mob. Every single man in the business would’ve been looking for her. My curiosity piqued further, I ask, “Who were you supposed to marry?”

“Lambert Roos.”

It makes sense. It would’ve strengthened Marvin’s connections, but hearing her say it doesn’t sit right with me. Lambert is an old fart. I feel like killing him now just because he once upon a time considered marrying her. Which raises the questions I’ve been mulling over for the last hour. Why didn’t anyone in the family take the Haynes orphans in? Now I want to know, why didn’t the Roos family take Valentina and Charles when their mother died? Lambert’s family should’ve claimed them and raised Valentina until she turned a marriageable age. Too many things about Valentina don’t add up.

She watches me with her big eyes. “Don’t push her away. Give her reason to confide in you, not to do things behind your back. Carly is her own person. She deserves to make her own choices, even if they’re mistakes.”

Everything she says is true, but the protective side of me is too fierce.

“It’s just a date,” she continues. “You can’t lock her in a glass cage forever. She has to find her way in life.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Of course you can. At least meet the kid before you cast judgment. Invite him over. That way you can decide if she’s safe with him.”

I consider her words. I’m not the world’s greatest father, but I want what’s best for Carly.

“You can always kill him if he misbehaves,” she says with a hint of a smile.

It’s her way of telling me she accepted what happened this morning, not that I need her acceptance. I’m not worried about her ratting on me, either, because I know how desperately she wants to keep her brother alive. Anyway, it won’t do her any good. Magda practically owns the police force.

I sigh and wipe a hand over my face. “I have to discuss it with her mother.”

Hope lights up the somber depths of her eyes. “Can I tell her you’ll think about it?”

“Fine.” I shove my hands into my pockets. “I’ll think about it, and I’ll tell her myself.”

“Thank you,” she says, as if I just granted her freedom to date, which brings another nagging issue to my mind––Valentina’s virginity.

I won’t be able to hold off much longer. At some point, my control is going to snap. It tears me apart to even think about it, but soon I’ll have to face the decision I’ve been putting off for far too long.

---

When Valentina is cleaning upstairs, I send Marie out on a shopping errand with Quincy, and go through Valentina’s room. Except for a few pieces of clothing, a pair of flip-flops, and a change of plain, white underwear, there are raspberry-scented shampoo, body lotion, deodorant, and tampons in her closet. There are no cosmetics, jewelry, or shoes, not even a hairclip.

On the bottom shelf, I find a stack of text and notebooks. From the titles, I deduce they’re on veterinary science. Could it be that Valentina is a university student? It should’ve occurred to me earlier. She’s clever, driven, and ambitious. It makes sense that she’d want to further her education. As I’m staring at her neat handwriting, I’m struck by another foreign emotion.

Pride.

The pride I feel for Carly is her birthright, but this is different. This pride is earned. A piece of the ever-present coldness in me makes way for a pleasant rush of heat. Valentina wants to be a vet. She’ll make a brilliant, gorgeous animal doctor. This is why she needs the money. I finished an MBA after high school, and I know how much hard work it is. She won’t keep up this job and her studies. Not for long. The part of me that wants her to be happy wants her to have this, but I’ll have to find a way around Magda.

I’m enjoying the sensation of warmth in my chest too much to let it go, but when my gaze sweeps over her belongings, a new feeling dampens my pride. It takes me a while to place it.

Fuck me. I feel compassion. Big, empathic compassion. I always knew Valentina was going to play havoc with my body, but what the hell is she doing to my heart?

---

“Which one?” Carly holds up a pink strapless dress and a blue one with a tight-fitting bodice.

I stop ironing to consider the options. “The pink one.” Gabriel will definitely object if she shows off too much of her figure.

She puts the pink one on the ironing pile and lifts her hair on top of her head. “Up or down?”

“You have a pretty neck. I’d say up.”

She all but skips from the scullery, leaving me with a smile. I’m glad Gabriel finally agreed to let her go out after meeting Sebastian and his parents. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to see Carly was smitten with the boy. He has all the qualities to make a schoolgirl’s knees weak, including playing for the school rugby team.

I finish pressing the tablecloth, hiding a yawn behind my hand. I’m exhausted. It’s a battle to keep my eyes open past eleven. Every night, Gabriel comes to me. My body has learned not only to respond to him, but also to need the pleasure he gives me like I need food and water. When my body hits the mattress, it starts craving him. I’m wet and aching before he even walks through my door. By the time he fondles and kisses me, I’m begging for release. Sometimes, he lets me return the favor. It’s always the same routine. When it’s me making him come, he leaves everything up to me. I find comfort and power in this, and I also find I need more. I’m ashamed to admit I want more from Gabriel than oral sex. I’m fantasizing about having him inside my body, feeling him rock a rhythm into me with his cock. I shouldn’t want this, not from him of all people. I crave what he does to my body, but I hate him for having this effect on me. I never wanted a man before or had erotic dreams, but now I wake up soaked and needy every morning, my senses super aware of him as he moves around the house. Last night, I was on the verge of asking him to fuck me, but my pride won’t let me. Maybe controlling me with powerful orgasms is enough for him, but it’s not enough for me. Not only did he make me a whore, he made me a greedy one.

“Meeting in the kitchen,” Marie says, breaking my train of thought.

I let my hair fall around my face to hide my flustered cheeks. “Coming.”

Magda is waiting for us with a clipboard in her hand. As usual, she jumps straight into business. “It’s my son’s birthday in four months, and we’re hosting a party at the house. I’m hiring caterers and servers, but everyone’s help is needed. Make sure you’re available on Saturday and Sunday the tenth and eleventh of March. It’ll finish late, so, Marie, you’ll have to sleep over. You can share Valentina’s room. Any questions?”

Both Marie and I shake our heads.

“Good. I’ll give you more details closer to the time.”

When she’s gone, trying to sound casual, I ask, “How old is he?”

“Thirty-six.”

“He had Carly young.”

“He married Mrs. Louw when they were both only nineteen. They had Carly the following year.”

“Was it an arranged marriage?”

Marie pulls her back straight. “You shouldn’t ask questions about affairs that don’t concern you.”

She’s right, but I have an insatiable curiosity about my keeper. I’m devastated to admit I want to know everything there is to know about him.

“The table needs to be cleared,” she says harshly.

I tidy the dining room and smuggle the untouched food to my room. On my break, I carry the Shepard’s Pie outside and make myself comfortable on the low wall separating the garden from the pool.

---

Before Valentina’s arrival, I never spent time in the kitchen. I never had reason to. Now, I gravitate to that part of the house with increasing frequency. An urge to see Valentina drives me there, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Marie can’t hide her shock at my presence, more so when I switch on the kettle and take a mug from the cupboard.

“Anything I can do, Mr. Louw?”

“I’ve got this.”

She eyes me warily as I drop a teabag into the mug.

“I can prepare you a tray,” she says, “or get Valentina to bring it to your study.”

“Where is Valentina?”

“Lunch break.” The way she wrinkles her nose tells me our maid isn’t one of her favorites. Any resentment she has should be directed at me. The little maid came voluntarily, but only because I made sure there was no other choice.

“Shall I call her?” Marie asks, watching me with hawk eyes.

“No.” Valentina needs her rest. Her back is breaking under the burdens Magda piles on her.

“As you wish.” Her dismay is laughable. If she weren’t a loyal employee, I would’ve kicked her ass out on the spot.

As if sensing my discord, she moves away quickly, busying herself with chopping vegetables. I don’t really want the damn tea, but if I abandon the task, Marie will know my ulterior motive for gatecrashing in the kitchen.

I walk to the window while I wait for the water the boil and jolt to a standstill. Valentina sits on the wall with a plate in her hands.

I go colder than the morgue.

Bruno is out. Quincy told me ten minutes earlier he’s letting him run free for exercise.

“Valentina!” My voice carries through the window, because she lifts her head with a frown.

Jumping to action, I sprint as fast as my limp allows to the backdoor, my body in fight mode. I clear the house in record speed, but my voice didn’t only attract Valentina’s attention. The Boerboel rounds the corner, his ears drawn back in alert. My heart stops. My lungs collapse, making it impossible to draw in a breath.

“Quincy!” Where the fuck is he? “Valentina!”

I don’t have time to elaborate on my warning. The dog spots her and charges.