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Immediately, heat floods my body. It bubbles in my veins and sends blood to my clit. My nipples are as hard as pebbles. I want to hate the feelings coursing through me, but I can’t. As my body puts my arousal on display, the same heat I feel reflects in his eyes.
The shopkeeper returns with a pitcher of ice tea and glasses, but Gabriel doesn’t let go of me.
She measures our stance. Depositing the tray on the table, she says in a professional tone, “Have you chosen anything yet?”
An hour later, I walk out with a new dress, designer jeans, two T-shirts, a casual trench coat, a pair of ballerina flats, five sets of pretty underwear, and a cute off-shoulder sweater. Gabriel pushed me to take more, but this is already more than I need.
He loads my parcels in the back of his car, and when we’re seated, he turns to me. “Where to, beautiful?”
I’m sure he already knows, but I give him Kris’ address. On the way there, I try to figure out what just happened. By the time we pull up in front of the practice, I’m still nowhere near understanding Gabriel.
He switches off the engine. “Your flat has been sold.”
“Wow, that quickly?”
“I arranged for the money to be paid into your bank account. I hope that’s in order.”
“Gabriel…” I’m at a loss for words. “Thank you.” The words don’t express my gratitude, but they’re all I can muster.
“No need to thank me. I said I’d handle it.”
He reaches over me and opens my door, his arm brushing against my breasts. Before I can object, he gets my parcels and carries them to Kris’ house. Charlie meets us by the door, taking me into a bear hug.
“Va–Val!”
“Hey, big brother.”
Gabriel holds out his hand for Charlie to shake. “Hi, remember me?”
“You’re the ba–bad ma–man.”
Gabriel chuckles. “I guess you can say that, but I prefer Gabriel.”
Charlie takes a step back and looks at me with big eyes.
“It’s okay, Charlie. Gabriel isn’t going to hurt us. I work for him, remember?”
After contemplating my response, Charlie’s good manners finally win. “Want a jui–juice?”
“Sure.” Gabriel flashes me a smile and makes himself right at home in Kris’ kitchen.
I’m wary of having him around my brother. I watch him like a hawk while he makes small talk with Charlie, but Charlie quickly warms up to Gabriel. When he leaves an hour later, you’d swear they’re best buddies. What game is Gabriel playing? He can toy with me if that’s the price I have to pay for Charlie’s freedom, but I won’t let him disrupt my brother’s life.
* * *
Gabriel
Since Carly is at her mother’s this weekend, I have the evening and tomorrow to myself. Magda is out with friends. I ensured that no business meetings were scheduled and gave Rhett and Quincy the weekend off. I pour a whiskey and settle into an armchair in the reading room with Valentina’s file in my lap. There’s not much in her history I don’t already know. Her father, Marvin, was involved in a car cloning syndicate. Her mother, Julietta, was a housewife. Valentina grew up in Rosettenville, in the south. When she was thirteen, their Chevrolet went off a bridge. Marvin was killed on impact. Valentina survived, and Charlie incurred serious injuries resulting in brain damage. One year later, her mother was killed during an armed bank robbery. An aunt took care of Valentina and Charles, moving into the flat her parents owned in Berea when their house was auctioned to cover the outstanding accounts and funeral costs. The aunt died after Valentina’s nineteenth birthday, leaving her to take care of Charlie alone.
My earlier question remains. Why did no one take care of Julietta and her kids? In our business, family is everything. We take care of our own. Marvin wasn’t at the top of the hierarchy, but he wasn’t a petty thief, either. He had enough influence and support to guarantee his widow and children protection, a roof over their heads, and food. Instead, they lived from hand to mouth after his death.
I put the file aside and wipe a hand over my face. The second folder contains Valentina’s bank activity of the day. Half of the money I paid her for her flat was transferred to Kris’ account. The other half, she paid into an account registered to UNISA. Following up the lead on the University of South Africa, I confirm my assumption. Valentina is enrolled in a correspondence degree in veterinary science. Using my contacts, I have a number for Valentina’s mentor at the university within minutes. Even if it’s late, I dial the number. It doesn’t take me long to convince Mrs. Cavendish to have breakfast with me tomorrow.
* * *
I sit at a table tucked away in a private corner on the Rosebank Hotel rooftop when Aletta Cavendish arrives. She’s not the old prude her voice made me imagine. The only reason I know it’s her is because she walks onto the rooftop at the exact time we agreed. The tall platinum blonde is in her late thirties. Wedding ring. Big diamond. The husband must have a cozy job, because university professors don’t earn that much. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and there’s not a trace of makeup on her face. Even without the help of cosmetics, she’s attractive. She wears a white T-shirt and flowing, Indian-print skirt with leather sandals. There must be twenty bangles on her arm. The flower-child type. From her straight back and square shoulders, I gather she has confidence. Her walk is easy and light. Clearly the type who sleeps well at night.
