My vision unravels at the edges. Who is this mean girl? Carly has always been difficult, but this disrespect crosses a new line. The tea sloshes over the edges as I slam the glass down on the table. In two strides I’m next to Carly, pulling her up by her arm. She looks at me with a start, her cocky attitude slipping. Magda drops her book and jackknifes into a sitting position.

“Dad!”

Carly protests as I drag her through the sliding doors back into the house. It’s time the two of us had a talk. Not like the talk we had in the car. A serious talk.

The first available room is the reading room. I push her inside and am about to slam the door when Valentina rushes up.

“Not now,” I growl. This is between Carly and I.

Her soft hand on my arm pauses me, and it’s the look in her eyes that makes me falter. I can’t resist this begging, wide-eyed appeal.

“Just five minutes,” she says.

Educating Carly in manners is my responsibility, but it’s also Valentina’s right to stand up for herself. With much difficulty, I remove myself from the room, but I can’t move farther than around the door where I stop to eavesdrop shamelessly.

“You’re upset,” Valentina says.

“Damn right, I am.”

“I understand. The news about the baby must be hard to deal with. It came as a shock to me, too.”

“You only got pregnant to trap my dad.”

“It was an accident neither of us planned.”

There are tears in Carly’s voice. “How long have you been sleeping with him?”

“That’s private,” Valentina replies gently, “and not your business.”

“Did you seduce him?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t understand your question.”

“He said you didn’t ask for this.” There’s a long silence before Carly speaks again. “Did he … force you?”

My heart stops beating. Valentina hates me. She has no reason to protect my daughter from the ugly, raw truth. Yes, I forced her. I made her beg first, but I gave her no choice. Not really.

The tremble in Valentina’s voice is so minute, if I didn’t know her as well as I did, I would’ve missed it. “Why would you ask that?”

“It happened to friends of my mom. The maid is pregnant with the husband’s baby, and she said she didn’t have a choice because he forced her.”

Valentina’s voice is firm and reassuring. “It didn’t happen to us.”

“He didn’t … rape you?”

“Absolutely not. Please don’t think about your father that way.”

“So, you’re not a victim.”

“No, I’m not.”

“If you’re not a victim, I can’t feel sorry for you.”

“I’m not asking you to feel sorry for me. I’m asking you to try for us to get on.”

“Why? Why should I? I don’t even like you. You’re lower class and poor.”

“Fair enough. Then try for your dad’s sake.”

“I’m not doing anything for his sake. He didn’t talk to me before marrying you to see how I would feel, so why should I consider his feelings?”

“He loves you, Carly. Don’t push him away. If we put a bit of effort into it, we can all get along.”

“Give me one, good reason why I should get along with you?”

“You’re going to have a baby brother or sister. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Carly goes quiet. For several seconds, neither of them speaks. Finally, Carly says in a broken voice, “I’ve always wanted a brother or sister, just not from you.”

“We can’t change that it’s me, but I’m sure this baby is going to love having a big sister.”

Carly sniffs. “You think?”

“I do. I was hoping you’d help me with some baby shopping.”

“Those tiny shoes and cute bunny-ear pajamas?”

Valentina laughs. “And a teddy bear. Every baby needs a teddy.”

“Oh, my God, I know exactly where to go. Tammy’s big sister had a baby last month. You should see the cute baby dresses and matching headbands we got for her. Can I help with the room?”

“Yes, you may.”

“Not the painting, though. Oh, and I’m not changing diapers.”

“No paint. No diapers. Got it.”

Carly excitedly babbles on about baby powder, mobiles, and blankets.

For the first time in months, I hear Carly laugh. I lean my head back against the wall and swallow hard. I don’t deserve Valentina’s cover-up, but I take it anyway.

* * *

We park in front of a two-story house with a circular entrance hall like an abstract castle tower. The pillars framing the entrance are a modern, off-kilter version of the Arc de Triomphe. The house is painted gray, black, and burgundy. I’ve never seen anything like it.

“Where are we?”

Gabriel turns off the engine, but doesn’t answer. He exits and comes around to help me from the car. It was a long drive to the northern suburb of Broadacres, and we got stuck in traffic. I stretch to relieve the ache in my back. His hand moves to my lower back, his fingers gently massaging the sore muscles.

At the glass doors, he hands me a key with a red ribbon looped through the hole.

“Gabriel, what is this?”

“Our new house.”

Incapable of forming words, my gaze shifts from the keys to the doors. Behind the glass, there is a large, open-plan, furnished space.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” he asks with a quirk of his lips.

I fumble to fit the key in the keyhole and eventually manage to let us inside.

Our footsteps echo on the slate tiles. A spiral staircase leads from the tower to the first level. To the left is a lounge and at the back a kitchen. The finishes are in industrial steel.

“Come.” He takes my hand and walks me through the house.

The ground floor includes a wine room with walk-in fridge, an office for Gabriel, a soundproof cinema, an indoor barbeque facing a heated pool, a Jacuzzi, bar, bathroom, sauna room, and gym. The kitchen leads to a pantry and scullery, and the scullery to maid quarters and a double garage.

He gauges my reaction as he leads me upstairs. “Do you like it?”

The decoration is minimalistic and modern. I can see why Gabriel would like it. “It’s very impressive.”

Satisfied with my answer, he shows me four spacious bedrooms, each with an en-suite bathroom.

From the main bedroom, we step onto the balcony that has a view on the pool.

“Charlie can have the bigger bedroom on the right, and we can break a door from ours to the one on the left for the baby.”

I lean on the balustrade and look up at him. “Why?” Magda has a big house, and up to now Gabriel has been content to live there.

“I want you to be happy. I want you to buy what you please, decorate as you like, and paint the walls green if that’s your thing.”

I have to laugh. I can’t imagine the gray walls of this house being a crazy green.

He cups my hips and presses our lower bodies together. “Just promise me the nursery will have a jungle theme. I kind of have my heart set on it.”

More laughter bubbles over my lips. Baby and decoration talk is so unlike Gabriel.

“I want this to be good for you, Valentina.” He brushes the hair from my face. “Having a baby won’t be easy. I want you to be as comfortable as you can be.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, not for the house, but for his efforts.

He kisses me and smiles against my lips. “Does that mean you like the house?”

“I do.”

“Then we move next week.”

I weave my fingers through his thick hair, keeping him in place. “I don’t care where we live, as long as you never stop touching me.”

The smile is gone. His expression sobers. “I trained you so damn well.”

“Does that mean you like it?” I ask, throwing his words back at him.

“Like it?” Heat invades the icy blue of his eyes. “I love it. I fucking live for it.”

As his fingers go to the zipper of my dress, I melt for him, wanting what he can give me long before he offers. Whether he drags me to Berea, Broadacres, or hell, it doesn’t make a difference. As long as he feeds on my pleasure, his arms will keep me warm, and I can go on pretending he gives a damn about more than my body.

* * *

The move takes place the following Monday. By Tuesday, we’re settled. Since the house came fully furnished, all we had to transport were our clothes and Gabriel’s office equipment. On one of the nights Gabriel works late, I invite Kris over for dinner to show her our new home. I would not have felt comfortable inviting her to Magda’s house. At least here, I can do as I please. The freedom feels amazing. The irony of that sentiment doesn’t escape me. I’m anything but free, but as the days go by and my stomach grows bigger, a new numbness dulls my senses until I don’t think about my captivity, any longer.

The intercom buzzes as I’m caramelizing the sugar with a kitchen blowtorch over the crème brûlée. Oscar, who now lives with us—as does Bruno—jumps from the priceless silver bowl on the coffee table.

“I’ll get it,” Rhett calls from the gym.

Rhett and Quincy reside with us in the staff quarters meant for the maids. Each has an independent studio with a kitchenette and bathroom. Gabriel insists that one of them stays with me when he isn’t home. The guards stationed at our gate aren’t live-in. They work on a shift basis. The living arrangements with Quincy and Rhett worked out well, since I don’t want a live-in maid and prefer to take care of the cooking myself, maybe because of the memories that role evokes. Due to the size of the house, we were forced to hire a cleaning service that comes in twice a week. The rest I can handle between working at Kris’ clinic and completing a mini MBA to help me master business management. The household, work, Charlie, and studies keep me busy, but I’ve never been an idle person, and I like to feel useful.

“Here’s your guest,” Rhett says, holding the door for Kris.

“Thanks, Rhett. Dinner is almost ready. Would you like to join us?”

“Yeah.” His smile is enthusiastic. Rhett loves home cooking. “Let me grab a quick shower.”

Going over to Kris, I give her a hug. “How was the traffic?”

“Not too bad.” She looks up at the double volume entrance, turns in a circle, and whistles through her teeth. “Wow.”

“Do you like it?”

“Too modern for my taste, but it’s … wow.”

“Charlie, come say hi,” I call into the cinema room. “Kris is here.”

Charlie bounces through the door and takes her in a bear hug as if he hasn’t said goodbye to her at the practice only three hours ago.

Kris sniffs the air. “Smells like Beef Stroganoff.”

“Good olfactory skills. Wine or beer?”

“Beer.”

“In the fridge. Help yourself.”

Kris grabs a can and looks around while I set the food on the table.

“There are an awful lot of glass doors and windows.”

“I love the light.”

“What about security? I don’t see burglar bars.”

“Each door and window is fitted with a bulletproof metal shutter. No metal cutter can get through the steel. In case of an emergency, we can bring them down in seconds with the push of a button. We have a control panel in the kitchen and upstairs in our room.”

“You don’t fool around.”

“You know Gabriel.”

“Yeah, this sounds like him. That man is crazily protective over you. I don’t want to see how he’s going to be when the baby is born.”

Rhett enters the kitchen, his hair wet. “Is that Stroganoff I’m smelling?”

“Spot on,” Kris says.

He rubs his hands together. “Shall we eat before it gets cold?”

Kris chuckles. “Hungry?”

I dish up, and Charlie serves the water. Rhett doesn’t drink when he’s on duty.

“Val tells me she can shoot a bullseye. Is it true?” Kris asks Rhett.

He gives me a chastising look. “You’re not supposed to advertise it.”

“I only told my best friend.” I grin. “I was proud.”

I’ll have to pick up the self-defense training after the birth, but I convinced Rhett to take me to the shooting range when Gabriel stays out late for business.

“My lips are sealed,” Kris says, “and I think it’s a good thing that Val knows how to defend herself.”

Rhett gives Kris a half-smile. His ass will be on the line if Gabriel finds out.

“How’s Charlie’s sessions going?” Kris asks, thankfully changing the subject.

“Good.” I pat Charlie’s hand. “Christopher says he’s making progress. Aren’t you?”

“Pro–progress.”

Kris raises her beer. “To Charlie’s progress and the best practice manager in the world, who can now also shoot like a pro.”

Our laughter is interrupted by Rhett’s phone.

“Excuse me.” He looks at the screen. “It’s Quincy. I have to take the call.”

He leaves the table and walks to the far corner of the lounge, but the acoustics of the open space carry his words to us.

“What?” He pauses to listen. “Okay. Sure. No worries. I’ll tell her.”

My armpits zing with pinpricks of foreboding. “Is Gabriel all right?”

He walks back to the table, his expression troubled. “It’s Carly. She’s been arrested for possession of drugs. Gabriel is at the police station. He’ll be home later than planned.”

Kris covers her mouth with a hand. Only Charlie eats without a care in the world. My appetite for food is gone. All I want is to be with Gabriel.

“There’s nothing we can do,” Rhett says. “We may as well enjoy our meal.”

By the time Kris leaves, there’s still no new news from Quincy or Gabriel. Rhett goes to bed, and I watch a movie with Charlie to distract myself, but I can’t concentrate on anything. Finally, there’s nothing left to do but ship Charlie off to bed and wait. I shower and change into a nightdress before making myself comfortable on the sofa in the lounge with a book. My gaze keeps on flickering to the door, watching for Gabriel’s headlights at the gate.

It’s well after three in the morning when he returns.

When I open the door, he grabs me to him and buries his head in my neck. “What are you doing up?” He kisses the soft spot on the curve of my shoulder. “It’s late.”

“Is she all right?” I pull away to look at him. “Did the police lay charges?”

He closes the door and turns all three deadbolts before taking my hand and pulling me to the bar. He pours me a tomato juice, for which I developed a sudden craving, and a Scotch for himself.

“No charges.”

“Did your lawyer get her off?”

“Not my lawyer. Magda.”

He doesn’t have to say more. Magda has questionable connections with the police.

He sits down on one of the barstools and pulls me onto his lap. “The police raided a nightclub.” His icy eyes turn stormy. “They found a gram of coke on her.”

“Oh, Gabriel.” I place a hand on his cheek.

“She’s sixteen, for God’s sake.” He cups my hand and rubs his jaw over my palm. “Sylvia said she didn’t know. She said Carly sneaked out.”

“The drugs?”

“Carly said a friend gave it to her. She swore she tried it only once. Tonight was supposed to be her second time. I think the arrest was a good lesson. It scared the hell out of her, especially since she’s under the legal age for access to that club.” He absent-mindedly strokes my hair. “She promised me she’d never do it again, but how can I trust her, now?”

Wrapping my arms around him, I lean my head on his chest, offering him the little comfort I can.

“Valentina.” He grips my chin and tilts my face up to him. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

Like he’s always there for me, I’m there for him. He knows he can count on me, no matter what. It’s an invisible bond that becomes stronger with each passing day. I don’t know if it’s the baby or the time we spend together that brings us closer, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve never felt more connected to anyone than I feel to Gabriel, and that scares me.

“Don’t leave me,” I plead.

It’s an irrational fear I contribute to my pregnancy hormones and a strange request coming from someone who begged to be set free less than a month ago. I want to stay, but out of my own free will, and until Gabriel lets me go, he’ll never trust or believe me when I say I love him and I won’t run.

Instead of pointing out the shift in my demands, Gabriel brings our lips together and kisses me tenderly. “Never. I can never let you go.”

Embracing that knowledge, I lean into him, immensely grateful for my imperfect world.

* * *

The month that follows is the happiest of my life. I have setbacks with Carly, but our relationship has never been better. She visits every weekend. Valentina suggested she chooses a room and decorates it herself, which Carly appreciated. We celebrated her seventeenth birthday with a quiet lunch at home, and afterward she did baby shopping with Valentina. Although she’ll never see Valentina through my eyes, they’re getting along, mostly due to Valentina’s efforts, for which I’m forever indebted.

Business is calm for a change. Magda has finally accepted my decision to move and for once we’re not knocking heads. The distance is what we needed. We get on better not living under the same roof. Quincy and Rhett dote on my wife, and only her devoted attention to me and me alone makes me swallow my jealousy. We had a door fitted between our room and the nursery, and Valentina bought the paint. Bright green. I’m sure it’s just to piss Magda off, but I’m game.

As far as the world’s concerned, we’re newlyweds. Hell, as far as I’m concerned, this is as normal as it gets. I can’t keep my hands off her, and she needs my invasive advances. I can love her hard or hold her in my arms watching a movie. It doesn’t matter whether we’re swimming with Charlie or clearing the table after our meals, I love every minute with her. I love the way her belly swells with the life we created. Every time I look at her, I have this godawful fear that it’s not real, that it’s too good to last. Like an infatuated person I drift on the cloud I fabricated, blind to anything but my wife’s pleasure and my own euphoria.

On one of those warm and sunny winter mornings the Highveld is famous for, we’re lounging by the indoor pool. I have Valentina’s legs in my lap, massaging her feet. She moans as I work on her pressure points. I steal glances at her bikini-clad body. With her six-month belly she looks both like a pinnacle of strength and vulnerability. Charlie discovered a love for water. He’s a strong swimmer. Nevertheless, I keep an eye on him as he’s doing laps from the shallow to the deep end. Later, I’ll fetch Carly for the weekend. We have a barbeque planned. There are only us, Rhett and Quincy, and a couple of Carly’s girlfriends. Afterward, the plan is to relax with a couple of movies. I’m looking forward to the afternoon. The low-key, family time is exactly what I need. Oscar jumps from my towel as my phone vibrates.

I check the screen. Sylvia. Carly must be running late, as usual. I flip the button to answer and am met by a noise so foreign and bizarre that my mind refuses to place it. I sit up, every muscle going tense.

“Sylvia?”

A series of incoherent words mixed with hysterical sobs follow. I move Valentina’s feet aside and stand, my only awareness the acute pain that shoots into my hip and the numbness that settles over my heart.

“Sylvia, take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.”

Her sobs become more distant. There’s a scratching noise before another voice comes on the line.

“Mr. Louw?”

“Who are you? What’s going on?”

“I’m a paramedic, sir. Mrs. Louw is not in a state to speak, right now. We have to ask you to come to the Garden Clinic.”

“What happened? Who’s hurt?”

“It’s your daughter, sir.” There’s a short, horrifying pause, and then the words I can’t face. “I’m terribly sorry.”