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“You said it’s my treat,” she says.
“It was a figurative way of speaking.”
“Don’t bullshit me.”
I take a few bills from my wallet and slap them on the counter. “You can buy me a beer.”
“No drinking. I’m working tomorrow.”
“You’re working tomorrow night.”
“The answer is still no.”
A smile plucks at my lips. “Are you ever going to say yes to me, Violet?”
“No,” she says, squirting a generous amount of mustard on her burger.
“Makes no difference.” I grab a stack of napkins. “You’re still mine.”
She scoffs. “You keep telling yourself that. Maybe you’ll believe yourself in time.”
“So will you,” I say, brushing a kiss over her nape.
She shivers. “Aren’t you going to add some sauce?”
“Trying to distract me won’t work.”
She shrugs and says, “Suit yourself,” and then continues to put every sauce from monkey gland to seafood cocktail on her burger.
“That’s going to be messy,” I say when she takes the polystyrene container.
Walking to the pavement, she shoots a look at me from over her shoulder. “That’s the point.”
She flops down on the pavement and stretches her legs out in front of her. Shaking my head, I make my way over and sit down next to her. She takes the burger in both hands and takes a giant bite. A rainbow of sauces squashes out between the buns.
“Mm.” She licks a smear of sauce from her bottom lip. “Best burgers in Joburg.”
Watching her eat is like a food orgasm. She throws herself into the task, making out with the bread as if devouring it is the most important mission in her life.
“How did you discover the place?” I ask, waving a hand at the modest truck.
“Gus used to come here for cricket matches,” she says through bites. “He let my mom buy me a burger.”
It’s a strange choice of words. She makes it sound as if nothing happens without Gus’s approval, not even the simple choice of having a burger.
“The patties are homemade,” she continues. “That’s what makes the difference.”
“Now I know what your favorite food is,” I say.
Ignoring the napkin I offer her, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “What’s yours?”
“If you’d hang around last night, you would’ve known.” I spread the napkin out on her lap. “But don’t worry. We’ll go back there so that you can satisfy your curiosity.”
She finishes off her burger and licks the sauce from her fingers. “I’m not even a little curious.”
“Careful. If you carry on like that, you’ll hurt my feelings.”
“You? Feelings?”
“See?” I make a mock expression of hurt. “That’s not a nice thing to say.”
“I thought the only thing that matters to you is your ambition.”
“Ambition is only one of many things I care about. You still haven’t told me about yours.”
She stiffens. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me. From what you said at dinner, working in your stepfather’s company isn’t your dream career.”
“But it’s yours.”
“I admire what he’s achieved. In the short time I’ve been there, he’s taught me a lot. I can add value to the business. The program I’ve just finished merits the promotion he offers.”
“It’s getting late,” she says, crumpling the napkin in her fist and getting to her feet. “We better get going.”
I stand. “Is something the matter?”
“No.” She averts her eyes. “I just have a long day ahead.”
Gripping her chin, I tilt her face to meet my gaze. “You can work but you don’t have to. Money won’t be an issue.”
She pulls away. “I’m not marrying you, Leon. It’s not what I want.”
I stalk her shamelessly, not caring that she’s backtracking toward the car. “Give it time. Eventually, you will want to. As I said, I always win.”
“This time, you’ll lose,” she says, her words loaded. Turning on her heel, she rushes to the car.
I give her a moment before I follow, but when I get in next to her, I make sure she’s clear about how this is going to happen. Cupping her nape, I hold her in place as I tell her in no uncertain terms, “By the end of next month, you’re moving in with me.”
CHAPTER 20
Violet
How did the year turn so shitty so fast? It’s only February, and all my resolutions have already flown out the window. I was going to make a quota of sketches and earn the down-payment for those false passports from the contact Lucky gave me. Instead, I’m driving the man I’m supposed to marry to his house in Sandton in a brand-new car he bought for me. Instead of earning my freedom, the web is spinning tighter around me.
“Turn left here,” Leon says. “It’s the complex on the right.”
I park in front of an exclusive complex with five units. He unlocks the gate with his thumbprint on a keypad next to the entrance. A lane of Jacaranda trees run down the middle of the small but prestigious estate. The houses are architectural in style, spacious with lots of glass. Situated on a hill, the top floors of the units must have a great view. It looks expensive, a lot more than what he should be able to afford on his salary.
