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“You don’t understand. I’m to wait for the papers and deliver them to him.”
“I’ll deliver them myself, thank you.”
“When?”
I give him a hard look. “When I’m ready.”
“Sorry, ma’am, but if I return empty-handed, Mr. Hart would like to know a date.”
“Soon.”
I close the door before he can say more. I’m being rude, but I’m not going to communicate with my husband via a messenger. Anyway, it’s time I face Damian. I’ve healed from the gunshot, Josh is adapting well in his crèche, Susan is happy here, and I’m a working mom earning a decent salary. I’ve done what I set out to do. This can’t be put off, any longer.
After lunch, I put on a pretty dress and make-up, and tell Susan I’ll be out for the rest of the afternoon. The drive to Erasmuskloof has my stomach churning and my insides twisting. Despite everything, I’m not sure what kind of a reception I’ll get. I’m not even sure how Damian feels about seeing me. I’m certain he loves me, or he wouldn’t have given me my freedom, my inheritance, and a house, but maybe he doesn’t want to be a dad. Maybe he doesn’t see himself living with a family. Maybe I come with too much baggage. Damian is wealthy and successful. His criminal record has been cleared. Like Fouché said, women are falling over themselves to be the next in line to wear his diamonds. The choice is wide with much more enticing and less complicated partners than me. Still, I’m not going to allow my fear to stop me from paying him this visit. I have to do this. If he sends me away after I’ve spoken my mind, I’ll respect his choice and sign the papers, no matter how hard it’ll be.
There’s a new guard at the gate who doesn’t know me. He tells me to get out of the car so he can search me. At least Damian is home. It was a gamble, but I didn’t want to warn him of my visit in the fear he’d refuse me. At the sight of my arms, the guard apologizes profusely.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hart. I didn’t recognize you.”
“No problem. You’re just doing your job.”
He runs to the guardhouse to dial the house. I hold my breath as he speaks into the intercom. What if Damian doesn’t let me in? I’m biting my nails as I wait for the verdict, but the gates swing open and the guard waves me through.
The grass has been burnt in preparation for summer. I itch to check the bat boxes but drive straight to the house and park in the circular driveway. My heart batters my ribs as I approach the door. It’s both foreign and familiar. I remember coming here after our wedding like yesterday, and yet, it feels like it was years ago. That I have to knock is a bad sign. If Damian were excited to see me, he would’ve met me at the door. Placing a hand protectively over my stomach, I wait.
I’m taken aback when the door opens to a stranger’s face.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Hart. I’m Klara, the housekeeper. Please come inside.”
Damian employed a housekeeper. That’s not good. He wouldn’t have done that if he weren’t planning on staying indefinitely in a house he once claimed to find old and stuffy.
I follow Klara up the familiar staircase to the study, my courage failing with every step. When she leaves me in front of the door, I take a deep breath and knock.
“Come in,” Damian’s deep voice calls from inside.
I have an irrational urge to fling the door open and rush into his arms. I recall the day of our wedding, when he’d brought me here and offered me a drink to settle my nerves. I remember the hostility and the fear. I want to start over, with a clean slate. It’s that hope that makes me behave like a teenager, yanking open the door, ready to take the biggest gamble of my life.
I realize my mistake too late. Damian isn’t alone. Tony is with him. They’re sitting on opposite sides of the big desk, papers spread out in front of them. Tony jerks his head toward me. His eyes flare in surprise.
Damian’s face is expressionless. He looks at me like one would look at the selection of coffee in a supermarket, wondering which brand to buy. My confidence takes a knock, but I stand my ground.
Damian’s gaze slips to the brown envelope I clutch in my hand. “Tony, you remember Lina.”
Tony clears his throat and looks back at Damian. “That should wrap it up. I’ll send you the buyer list.”
He gathers his papers and stuffs them into a satchel before flitting past me and out the door. I suppose our first encounter in this room was enough for Tony. He’s not sticking around to witness what will happen this time. Both Damian and I have been followed relentlessly by paparazzi. It’s common knowledge we don’t live together.
