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My husband is a murderer, and he killed the man who helped me escape.
8
Valentina
The drive home passes in a haze. I can’t remember if I stopped at any traffic lights. All I can think about is that Jerry is dead because of me, and my husband killed him. Yes, Jerry was a scumbag who got me into this dire situation, but it doesn’t mean he deserved to die.
I put Charlie’s favorite cartoon on in his bedroom and storm to Gabriel’s office, not caring that my face is streaked with tears or that my mascara is running. Gabriel looks up when I open his door. The smile freezes on his face as he takes me in. He pushes to his feet, the ever-present flinch giving away the strain the action puts on his leg.
“How could you?” I cry.
“Valentina.” His voice is harsh, authoritative. “Calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down. You killed Jerry!”
A mixture of sympathy and regret soften his features. “Who told you?”
“It’s in the news.” The last thing I want is to implicate Kris.
Rounding his desk, he takes my shoulders. “I should’ve told you, but I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Why? Was it because he gave me a car?”
“It’s not what you think.”
I slam my palms on his chest. “You son of a bitch.”
He catches my wrists. “Calm down, please, or I’ll be forced to tie you up.”
At that, I still. Gabriel never makes idle threats.
“Will you be quiet if I let go?” He sounds genuinely concerned. “All this screaming and crying can’t be good for the baby.”
I want to hate him, but I can’t. Not even when I think he shot Jerry. My shoulders slump.
“Will you listen?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Calmly,” he insists.
I don’t have a choice but to agree. “Calmly.”
He lets go of me slowly, testing me. When I don’t move, he brushes his thumbs over my cheeks, wiping away the tears. “It was Scott who shot Jerry.”
“Magda’s bodyguard?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment.
“Tell me,” I urge. “The truth.”
“He helped you run, and he shouldn’t have. She had to make an example of him.”
There is doubt in the way he speaks the words. I get the feeling he doesn’t believe himself. “You were there?”
“Yes,” he says gravely.
Pushing his hands away, I cover my face. “Oh, my God, Gabriel. It’s my fault. He died because of me. Why didn’t you stop Scott?”
“He didn’t give me a chance. Valentina, look at me.” He grabs my arms and pulls my hands away from my face. “Jerry was no saint. He got Charlie into this mess.”
My look is cutting. “You mean he got me enslaved to you.”
His glacier eyes turn hard, and his hold tightens to the point of pain. “You don’t understand the meaning of the word slave. I made you a princess, but if you want to be treated like a slave, that can be arranged.”
Of all the cold, hard truths, this one cuts the deepest, because it’s another affirmation of what Kris keeps on telling me. Gabriel doesn’t love me. I’m an object. He can turn me from princess to slave as his mood changes.
The pain in my heart makes me lash out at him in anger. “What I want doesn’t matter, anyway. You’ll do with me as you please.”
“What you are to me is entirely in your hands. You can live in comfort and be cherished or be chained in my basement and sleep in a cage.”
“But I can never leave.”
“No, you can never leave.”
“Then I’m nothing but your prisoner.”
“That’s one way to see it. The other way of looking at it is that you’re my wife.”
Sobs push up from my chest and find their way to my lips. I was doing so well on make-believe until a couple of hours ago. How can it hurt so much? Why didn’t I listen to Kris? Why did I make myself vulnerable? Now it’s too late. I fell for him, and it fucking hurts that he’s not falling right back for me.
“I don’t understand.” I wrap my arms around myself and take a step back. “Why me? Why are you doing this to me?”
He eliminates the space between us with one, easy step. “I already told you, I don’t need a reason.”
“I hate you!” I accentuate the statement with a fist on his chest.
His words are tender, compassionate. “We’ve already established that.”
I don’t have the strength to fight alone any longer. I can’t fight him and myself. He made me fall in love with him knowing he’ll never love me back. How can any man be so cruel?
“Please, Gabriel, if you feel anything for me, anything at all, set me free.” It’s my only hope at salvaging what’s left of my heart.
His wraps his arms around me and pulls me close, carefully, as if I have wings of rice paper. The embrace is what he offers. This is his answer. He won’t set me free. What I get in return for love is a consolation hug.
