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“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.
* * *
Gabriel
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.
8
Gabriel
The chances are in Bruno’s favor of making it to Valentina before I do, and I don’t have my gun on me. I throw my weight behind my effort, but my disability makes me too slow.
One more second and Bruno is next to the wall. Horrible visions play off in my mind. I reach for Valentina with an outstretched arm, trying to throw myself between her and the dog, but Bruno is at her feet, his enormous jaw going straight for her delicate ankle. I’m about to tackle and strangle the animal when the fact that he’s licking her leg instead of tearing her apart registers in my frantic mind. I barely stop myself from crashing head-on into both of them. My hands are shaking, and my skin is clammy. The powerful rush of adrenalin drops as quickly as it has flared, making me feel physically ill. I swallow several times to suppress the urge to puke. While I’m battling to settle my guts, Bruno slobbers all over her.
Valentina gives me a confused look, uncertainty creeping into her eyes. She puts a plate with a half-eaten serving of Shepard’s Pie on the wall and pushes it away from her, as if the food is the cause of my reaction. Bruno puts his forepaws on the wall and stretches. When she scratches behind his ear, he closes his eyes, and tilts his head to her touch.
