Consent (The Loan Shark Duet 2)

“There must be another way.”

“This is the only way. You can do it the easy way or fighting. The judge has been bought. He doesn’t care if you say yes or no. We will be married.”

His fingers dig into my arm as he pulls me up the stairs and through the door. Some of his men have followed by car and are guarding the entrance. He doesn’t give me time to protest or speak until we stop in front of a door with a metal plaque that reads Judge EL Viljoen.

I hang back when he moves forward. He turns with an irritated look.

“Gabriel.”

“What?”

I run my sweaty hands over the fitted trench coat that won’t fasten over my bump, any longer, to dry my palms. “I think I’m going to be sick.” Bile pushes up in my throat.

He cups my face. For the first time since I’ve met Gabriel his eyes fill with something keen to dearness. “Take a deep breath.” He gives me a hard, possessive kiss and ushers me inside.

Barely five minutes later, we’re married.

Husband and wife.

The nausea I’ve managed to hold down boils over. We’re scarcely outside before I empty my stomach in a flowerbed. Gabriel is next to me, his arm around my shoulders. He holds my hair out of my face and rubs my back as dry heaves wrack my body. Tears mix with my anguish, shaking my shoulders.

“It’s all right, beautiful. Breathe in and out.”

I take a steadying breath and scrape some dignity from the bottom of the barrel of my control, enough to straighten my back and suppress more tears.

Gabriel takes me back to the car and fastens my seatbelt. Shell-shocked, I stare at the platinum band with the floating diamond on my ring finger that matches the one on his, except that his has a black diamond. Mine fits perfectly. There’s no way he got the rings this morning. He already had them before we left the house. The hasty marriage isn’t something he cooked up last night.

He gets in and traces his thumb over my jaw. “Feeling better?”

I hold up my left hand, fingers splayed. “How long have you been planning this?”

His expression becomes guarded. He starts the engine and puts the car into gear. “Since I found the pregnancy test.”

“Why are you doing this? Why give up your bachelorhood to protect me?” Seriously, why does he care? “My debt can’t be worth that much to you.”

Instead of answering, he pulls off, his guards following. We drive in silence until we hit the road heading toward Lanseria.

“Where are we going?”

He cups my knee. “We need someplace tranquil to talk.”

“Charlie––”

“Will be fine. Rhett and Quincy are taking care of him. Today is about us.”

My worry is not completely eased, but I don’t have a choice. I have to trust Gabriel. Now that we’re back, I have to let Kris know. I hate that I made her worry.

“Do you mind if I call Kris?”

He takes his phone from the console holder and hands it to me.

“Thank you.”

Gabriel has her number saved in his contacts. Why doesn’t that surprise me? She picks up with a rushed greeting.

“Kris, it’s Valentina.”

“Val! Where are you?”

“Johannesburg.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. We’re fine.”

“What happened? Did Gabriel find you?”

I glance at him, knowing he can hear her, but his face is a stoic mask.

“Yes,” I say.

“Tell me what’s going on. I’m going out of my mind.”

“I promise to explain everything, but not on the phone.”

“When can I see you?”

I look at Gabriel.

“Tomorrow,” he says.

“Tomorrow,” I repeat.

“Today. You owe me a fucking explanation.”

“You’re right.” I rub my eyes. “But I can’t do it now. It’ll have to wait.”

“Val––”

“Kris, please.”

She must hear the desperation in my voice, because after a sigh, she says, “Okay. Tomorrow and not a day later. I’ll be waiting.”

“I’m sorry for making you worry.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

I don’t know how I’m going to explain. I both fear Kris’ judgment and crave her support.

I hand Gabriel back his phone and look through the window. We’re heading toward Magaliesburg, passing the airport.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

“Nauseous.”

I swear there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

“What’s so funny?” I snap.

There’s a definite twitch to his lips this time. “It’s cute.”

“It’s cute that I feel like puking?”

“It’s cute that you’re having pregnancy symptoms.”

He places his palm on my stomach, but pulls it away immediately, as if he’s worried his touch is unwelcome. The sad and sick thing is I go cold when his touch is gone. Only pride prevents me from asking him to hold me.

After thirty minutes, the road starts twisting up the mountain. I don’t usually get carsick, but the winding road doesn’t help. I have to focus on my breathing not to empty my stomach again.

He pats my knee. “Almost there.”

I close my eyes and lean my head against the headrest. When I open them again, we pull through the gates of Mount Grace. I sit up straighter. I’ve always wanted to come here. I heard it’s beautiful.