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.
* * *
Gabriel
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.
* * *
Valentina
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.
* * *
Gabriel
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.
Falling for the Forbidden: 10 Full-Length Novels Page 185
