Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Jesus, Magda, did you expect me to sit back and let her lose her thumb? Anyway, Rhett paid for it. I only reimbursed him.”
“You’re investing in dead meat.”
“We’ve been through this enough times already.”
“When are you going to let go?”
“When I’m ready.”
“When will that be?”
I gave her a hard look. “When I’m damn well ready and not a second before.”
“I’ve been lenient with you, but my patience is wearing thin. Don’t make me choose a date.”
“I’ll choose a date,” I say evasively, placating her for now. Maneuvering the car down the steep hill into Braamfontein, I ask the question that, for the last few weeks, has been foremost on my mind. “Why do you want her dead?”
She blinks and looks away. “I told you, to make an example out of her.”
“Why her?”
“Why not?”
“If it’s just about the money, I’ll settle her debt.”
She turns in her seat. “You’re willing to buy that little slut?”
Anger spurts into my veins, setting my heart off at a dangerous beat. “She’s anything but a slut.”
She gives a cynical snort. “Maybe you prefer a different term, but she’s your fuck toy, and in my opinion that makes her a slut.”
“Easy, Magda,” I say evenly. “You’re pushing me too far.”
“Gabriel,” her voice takes on a softer tone, “you can never trust her. If you lower your guard, she’ll stab a knife in your back or steal you blind.”
I can’t say for sure about the knife in my back. I’m sure Valentina has wished me dead plenty of times. What I do know is that she’s not a thief.
“She’s been managing the food budget since Marie’s stroke, and she’s saving us a lot of money.”
“That doesn’t say anything.”
“It says she’s trustworthy where money’s concerned. Don’t think I’m unaware of the money Marie pocketed for herself with the kickback she got from the suppliers.”
“It’s small money.”
“Doesn’t change the principle. Stealing is stealing, which makes Marie a thief. Yet, you never lashed out at her.”
“That’s different. Marie is practically part of the family. Her mother worked for my mother. Your fuck doll is neither family nor loyal. I don’t care how much money she’s saving us, her time’s running out.”
“Let it go.”
At the cold deliberation in my tone, she turns her head to look through the window. “Anyway, I’m not interested in selling her. You won’t settle her debt.”
I let it slide, making an effort to calm myself. “I called our old cleaning service company. They’ll stand in until next week.”
My mother scoots up straighter. “You did what?”
“Valentina is booked off. You know that.”
“This is the perfect opportunity to let her fail.”
I clench my jaw. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Fine.” She waves a hand in the air. “Treat her like a princess and wrap her in cotton wool. It’ll make her fall so much harder.”
My fingers tighten on the wheel. I feel like leaning over my mother, opening her door, and shoving her out of my car and my life. We keep on clashing heads over this, and if she can’t accept that Valentina is a part of our lives for good, it’s going to get ugly.
* * *
The week drags on with Valentina being withdrawn and quiet, keeping to her room. At least she has time to rest and maybe study. She still hasn’t told me about her studies. I’m not sure if she’s hiding something else from me, or if it’s the after-effect of the anesthesia that’s giving her the blues, but she’s not herself. I suppose it’s normal, given what she’s been through. All I can do is give her my support and care until she’s back in the kitchen in her black dress. I’m not happy about it, but I haven’t found a solution to the dilemma, yet, and Magda won’t budge.
On top of my worry about Valentina, I need to raise a difficult issue with Carly. Carly doesn’t normally eat in the morning, but since Magda isn’t present today, I ask my daughter to have breakfast with me so we can speak in private.
I wait until Valentina has left us after serving bran muffins before I say, “I know you love your mother and our divorce was tough on you. We didn’t discuss it much when the breakup happened. I think it’s important that you have someone neutral to talk to.”
She stares at me with wide eyes. “It’s a bit late for that.”
“It’s never too late.”
“It won’t help.” She hides her face behind her hair.
“You can’t say unless you’ve tried.”
She pushes the fruit around on her plate.
“Stop hiding behind your hair and look at me.”
She lifts her head, her eyes throwing daggers at me. “There’s only one thing that’ll help, and that’s if you and mom get back together.”
I sigh deeply. “It’s not going to happen. You have to accept it.”
She bangs her fork down on her plate. “Why not? Why can’t you live together like a normal couple?”