“I know how much she earned before she started working for me. How did she manage?”
“She has a partial bursary, but it’s not enough to cover everything.”
“Is she a good student?”
“Honestly? She’s hands-down the best I’ve ever had. Her grades are top, but that girl has a natural vet in her. I’ve never seen animals react to anyone like they behave toward her.”
You bet. “Then how come she secured only a partial bursary?”
“With the financial collapse and political unrest there’s very little left in the university coffers. There are no full-time bursaries for vet students. I’m donating her books, but as you said, she’s proud. Luckily, Valentina is also strong. Becoming a vet is her dream. She’ll find a way.”
The food arrives. The waiter arranges the salt and juice, shifting it around several times before he can fit the plates.
I’ve never had to worry about money. If I want something, I go out and buy it. I can’t imagine what it’s like to work your fingers to the bone and worry about covering your bills, which is ironic coming from a man who makes money from other people’s financial troubles.
I lean back in my chair. “If I’m to create a bursary, can I choose to who it’ll go?”
The knife stills in her hand. “Yes.” She looks at me with mild surprise. “You can name the beneficiary.”
“The beneficiary doesn’t need to know who the sponsor is?”
A smile warms her eyes. “You can call the bursary whatever you want. It doesn’t have to carry your name, and it can certainly be anonymous.”
I lean my elbows on the table and tip my fingers together. “In that case, I’d like to offer a full bursary, all expenses paid.”
Her smile turns ten degrees warmer. “I’ll put you in touch with the right person in finance.”
“Monday.” I want to pave this road for Valentina as soon as possible.
“Gotcha.” She takes a bite, chews slowly, and swallows. “You know, I had my doubts about you.”
“Yes?”
“I thought you were going to tell me Valentina’s studies are interfering with her job.”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that.”
“I’m glad I was wrong.”
She has no idea.
* * *
After breakfast, I text my private banker and give instruction for the bursary to be set up. Then I head to Rosettenville. I drive past the address in my file, the house in which Valentina grew up. It’s a humble miner’s house, the cheap, cookie-cutter type the gold mines constructed for their workers and later sold to private owners. In this street, everything looks the same. It’s hard to imagine someone like Valentina walking the streets of this average and dull neighborhood. She belongs someplace exotic, someplace beautiful. The main street that houses most of the commercial businesses is quiet. The shops are closed on the weekend. At the mechanic workshop, I park my car and tuck the gun into the back of my waistband. Lambert Roos lives in a house adjoining the workshop. The simple dwelling has a low wall in front, an easy target for thieves. With the fall of Hillbrow and downtown, Rosettenville became a dangerous neighborhood. The fact that he hasn’t raised the wall and fitted it with electrified barbwire tells me one of two things. Either he’s too poor or he’s powerful enough for criminals not to fuck with him. Judging from the peeled paint on the walls and the missing roof tiles, I’m putting my money on the first option.
I jump over the wall and bang on the door. Footsteps shuffle inside.
“Who is it?” a male voice calls.
“Gabriel Louw.”
There’s a moment’s hesitation before the door swings open on a crack. A short, bald man dressed in a vest and a pair of boxer shorts regards me with skepticism. He shoots a look over my shoulder, his gaze traveling up and down the street.
“I’m alone,” I say with a cold smile.
“Well, well, if it ain’t Owen’s ugly duckling. Howzit?”
I should kill him for that remark, but I need information. Shoving past him, I make my way into his house. The place smells like old socks and stale cabbage. The carpets are worn, and the furniture has seen better days. Business must be slow. Or maybe not. On the table, there are several bags filled with white powder. Coke or maybe cat.
His eyes follow mine. A thin layer of perspiration shines on his forehead. “What can I do you for?” he asks with humorless slang. “Want a beer?” He shifts his weight.
He’s hospitable enough, but he wants me gone.
“Remember Marvin Haynes?”
Cocking his neck, he blinks twice. “Yeah. Who doesn’t?”
“You must’ve known him well, seeing that you were supposed to marry his daughter.”
His puffy eyes narrow, and he utters a forced chuckle. “He lived down the road, but we weren’t thick with each other. Saw his missus from time to time in the pharmacy. Why do you ask?”
“If Valentina Haynes was promised to you, why didn’t your family take her and her brother in after her mother died?”
He scratches the back of his neck. “With her daddy gone, the deal was off.”
“You didn’t want to honor the agreement?”
“She’s not my type.”
Bull fucking shit. “She’s a very pretty woman, isn’t she?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t like pretty? Or you don’t like women?”
“Look, she didn’t do it for me.”
“You backed out because she didn’t do it for you?”
“Yeah.”
He’s lying through his crooked, yellow teeth.
“Why do you want know?” he asks, trying to look nonchalant, but his voice breaks on the last word.
I shrug. “Curiosity.”
With a nod, I go back to my car. Before I’m inside, the idiot has his cellphone in his hand, looking at me through the tattered lace curtains as he makes a call. I should’ve tapped his phone before my visit. It doesn’t matter. I’ll find out. I text Anton with Lambert’s name and address, as well as the date and time, instructing him to get a recording of the conversation and send it as an encrypted message to my private email account.
* * *
Valentina
When I step outside Kris’ house on late Sunday afternoon, Rhett is waiting across the road next to the Mercedes. He opens the backdoor in silent instruction for me to get in. Not a word passes between us during the drive to Parktown. My heart is sad to leave Charlie. I feel guilty for not being able to take care of him, but more than that, I miss his presence. His joy is innocent and genuine. He’s the only piece of uncomplicated truthfulness in the twisted emotions of my life.
Despite my sadness, my body starts humming when we get nearer to the house. Like a conditioned animal, my body becomes aroused at the knowledge that it will soon be with my captor, while my brain condemns the reaction. I hate this division between my thoughts and physical reactions. I’m at constant war with myself.
Gabriel himself waits on the porch. My heart gives an unwelcome lurch at the sight of his muscular shape. He gets the door and my parcels, the new clothes still unpacked and the price tags intact. Rhett disappears to wherever. The minute he’s gone, Gabriel brushes his lips over the shell of my ear.
“Welcome home.”
The words grate on me. This isn’t my home. My home is with Charlie. What Gabriel is doing to us as a family is wrong. I hurry inside and make my way to my room. A minute later, Gabriel steps inside, standing like a menacing, dark energy at the foot of the bed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Aren’t you happy you got to spend time with your brother?”
I give him a hard look. “Of course I am.”
I start unpacking the clothes, taking my time to fold each item meticulously.
He lets me carry on like this for a while before taking the pile from my hands and leaving it on the bed. “Let’s go for a swim.”
My jaw drops. He’s inv
iting a house servant for a dip in his pool?
“What do you say, Valentina?”
“I don’t have a bathing suit.”
“You don’t need one.”
Without waiting for a response, he takes my wrist, pulls me through the kitchen and out the backdoor. On the deck, he starts stripping his clothes.
I glance around to make sure we’re alone. “What are you doing?”
“Swimming naked with you.”
“Are you crazy?”
“We’re alone. Magda’s out, and Carly won’t be back before tomorrow.”
Gabriel stands stark naked and hard in front of me. His scarred body is terrifying in its brutal beauty. The marks on his foot and knee don’t diminish his physical perfection. To me, they add to his appeal, making him breathtakingly perfect in a broken kind of way. Is it the warped attractiveness of imperfection, or is a part of me is just attracted to everything that’s dark and destructive?
Flashing me his rock-hard ass, he walks to the deep end and dives. Water splashes onto the side, the sound reminding me of holidays and stress-free times long gone.
“Come on,” he calls. “The water’s good.”
It’s tempting. It’s been a hot as hell day, and my body feels sticky. I can’t remember the last time I swam.
My gaze travels in the direction of the staff quarters. “Rhett––”
“Rhett won’t come near the house unless I give him an order. Now I’m giving you one.
Get in.”
“All right.”
Pulling off my trainers and clothes, I walk to the edge of the pool. The minute our gazes lock, there’s a shift in his. The ice in his eyes makes way for a molten look of heat.
Unashamedly, he ogles my breasts and lower. His cock grows enormous under the water. I wish I wasn’t tingling between my legs or that my nipples hadn’t hardened, but I’m as helpless to my reaction as I am to his wordless command when he curls a finger at me. Stepping into the cool water at the shallow end, I leave my guilt and judgment behind. No matter how hard I protest, Gabriel will do whatever he wants. The crazy, unequal power play gives me a measure of absolution.
When I’m up to my waist in the water, he swims to me and grabs a fistful of hair. Pulling my head back to arch my upper body, he latches onto a nipple, and sucks my breast deep into his mouth. I cry out as pain assaults the sensitive tip. Immediately, he pulls back to look at me.
“You usually like that.”
I cup the sore curve. “It’s almost that time of the month. They get overly sensitive.”
He studies my breasts with new interest, taking both into his hands. “They’re bigger.” He jiggles them, making me groan with the discomfort. “And heavier.” His hands move down my sides to my hips, and over my swollen stomach. “When’s your period due?”
“Tomorrow.” I shake a little when I say it. After that, the birth control will be effective, and nothing will prevent him from taking the final step.
He eases up then, setting my body free. “Maybe the water will do you good.”
It does. We swim a few laps and just drift around without talking. By the time we get out, my skin is wrinkled. Gabriel fetches towels from the pool house and covers me with one on a deckchair. For a few blissful moments, I forget my circumstances and simply enjoy the rays of the setting sun on my face. I’ve never been alone with him in the house. There’s less tension when no one else is around.
When it starts to get cool, he carries me inside and lies me down on my bed. Like every night he came to my room, he makes me come. He’s gentle, avoiding my sore breasts and swollen abdomen. Afterward, he lets me take him in my mouth and stays with me for another hour.
Does he hold other women like this? Does he go out to fuck someone after he’s been with me? I’ve never seen another female in the house except for the woman in his study, but that doesn’t mean he’s celibate. Maybe he entertains his women elsewhere to protect Carly. For all I know, he has a girlfriend. Maybe it’s the woman I saw. Maybe he’s fucking her brains out every night after he leaves my room. Our silence is no longer amiable.
I can’t help myself from asking, “Are you sleeping with someone?”
His chest vibrates against my back with a chuckle. “Does it matter?”
If the ache in my ribs is anything to go by, yes, it does, but I’d die before admitting it. “Just wondering.” Hell, I don’t even sound convincing to myself.
“Her name is Helga.”
Humph. It’s like he punches the wind out of me with a fist in the stomach. I wanted to know, and now I regret asking. I especially don’t want to know her name. Pain lances at me from all directions, rendering me vulnerable. Jealousy mounts in my chest.
“She’s the woman you saw in my study. That’s what you’re really asking, isn’t it?”
Now that it’s out, I may as well go the full nine yards and let myself hurt thoroughly.
Maybe the ache will dampen my need for Gabriel. “Did you sleep with her?”
“Yes.” After a moment, he continues, “But I haven’t fucked her since you arrived.”
Something gives in my torso, like an elastic band that snaps. Stupidly, I feel like crying.
Correction, I feel like bawling. Damn PMS. “It doesn’t matter.”
His laugh is knowing. “Of course not.”
“Why haven’t you slept with her?” I hold my breath for something I can’t name.
“I don’t want to.”
But he may. Gabriel is the kind of man who takes what he wants, not by force, but by making your own body betray you, by stealing your will and breaking every one of your good intentions, leaving you with a hole only he can fill. Where I’m aching now, only his cock can fill the empty feeling. It’s twisted. He made me want him––need him––like I need water, while he can walk away on a whim, whenever he doesn’t want me. There’ll come a day I’ll be the next Helga, a day he won’t come to my room to make me come, just because he doesn’t want to any longer. He’s an asshole, and I hate myself for being affected.
“You’re quiet,” he muses. “If you’re tired, I’ll let you sleep.”
Longing for solitude so I can curl into a ball, I let the lie spill from my lips. “That’ll be kind.”
My heart drops when his weight lifts from the mattress. With a chaste kiss on my forehead, he walks from my room. Finally, I have the solitude I demanded, but I’m utterly and miserably lonely.
* * *
On Monday morning, Magda awaits me in the kitchen with shocking news. Marie had a stroke.
“You’ll take over the menu planning,” she says, “and the cooking. Run it past me to approve.” She points at the computer in the corner. “You’ll find the budget and supermarkets that deliver on the system.”
“Will she be all right?”
“I don’t know. Her daughter will let me know. It’s mighty inconvenient, though, seeing we have a formal business dinner at the house on Friday. Oh, you’ll have to see to the catering and serving. I’ll email the menu to the kitchen computer. I’m only expecting two or three guests.”
She writes a code on the message pad. “Here’s the password.”
She’s halfway to the door before I find the courage to speak. “I’m not sure I can manage.”
She twirls around to narrow her eyes at me. “Do you have a problem?”
“The cleaning and cooking…it’s a lot for one person. It’s not that I’m not willing, but it’s a big house. I don’t want to neglect one or the other.”
“Then make sure you don’t.” Her lips thin into a smile. “Your life depends on it.”
I stare at her back as she leaves the kitchen. I hate the haughty clack of her heels as much as I detest the traffic cone color of her lipstick. She may look down on me because I’m poor and treat me like a slave because she owns nine years of my life, but when those nine years are over, I’ll never take an order from her again. I’ll take Charlie and move to another town, a city where the Louws don’
t rule. Allowing the intention to strengthen my resolve, I switch on the computer and wait for it to boot up so I can place the grocery order for the day.
* * *
Monday and Tuesday pass in a blur. I wangle some sort of schedule, vacuuming only every second day and ironing later at night. By Tuesday evening, we get an update from Marie’s daughter, stating that she won’t be back at work for at least six months. Since I don’t know Marie’s recipes, I don’t have a choice but to change the menu. What I know is more my late mother’s Mediterranean style. I find a small, local producer of fresh produce, which turns out not only to be organic, but also cheaper. The fruit and vegetables aren’t pretty, but they’re tasty. I also order less cleaning products. I can wash a floor just as well with a bit of vinegar in water than with an expensive product that smells like a summer orchard, but has been tested on animals. The result is a thirty-percent saving on the weekly grocery bill.
The new work pace is strenuous. On top of that, my period arrived right on time. I’ve always suffered from a heavy flow that leaves me feeling weak. I order an iron supplement with my personal deliveries to boost me for the big night on Friday. The last thing I want is to fail my first dinner party test when my life depends on it.
Despite my period, Gabriel still comes to me at night, but instead of bringing me to the earthshattering climaxes I got used to, he fondles my body with backrubs and massages. It’s strange and out of character for him, not that he’s predictable. The more Magda pushes me, the kinder Gabriel acts toward me, which infuriates Magda. It’s a vicious circle between the two of them, and I’m caught in the middle.
Carly is cool but not completely unfriendly since she got to go out on her date. Sebastian is allowed to visit her at home with her grandmother or father’s supervision, but as Gabriel is always out during the day, it’s mostly Magda who keeps an eye on the lovebirds.
On Wednesday, Carly is alone by the pool. When I pick up her towel to put it in the wash, I notice she left her iPad outside again, something she does often. I take it with the intention to put it away in the house, but as I reach the sliding doors, Quincy’s voice stops me.
Falling for the Forbidden: 10 Full-Length Novels Page 189
