Dubious (The Loan Shark Duet 1)

“Are we clear?” I ask softly. I never raise my voice. I don’t have to.

“Yes.”

“Good.” I let her go.

Her hand goes to her jaw, touching the imprint of my fingers.

“Marie will show you to your room,” Magda says. “You’ll find her in the kitchen.”

I hand Valentina her travel bag, but hold onto the purse and remain standing since I haven’t been dismissed.

The minute Valentina is gone, I say, “She doesn’t know the way.”

Magda goes to the wet bar and pours a tot of Vodka, which she dilutes with orange juice. “Letting her find her own way is her first test.”

“Meaning?”

“The hidden cameras will record any traitorous acts she may conceive in her simpleton mind, and you’ll use it to your advantage to break her.” Magda takes a sip of her drink and walks back to her desk to pick up the internal phone that connects to the kitchen.

Marie answers on the first ring with a professional, “Mrs. Louw?” that comes over the speaker.

“Order maid uniforms for Valentina and linen for her room.”

“Any preference, ma’am?”

“Black.”

“The uniform or the linen?”

“The uniform. Make the linen…” she thinks for all of one second, giving me an over-easy smile, “…white.” She hangs up and continues, “Black and white. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? It’ll remind her of what she became––our servant and your plaything.”

“She won’t run,” I say, a challenge in my voice. I just found Valentina. I’m not about to kill her on Sunday.

Magda smirks, swirling her glass. “That’s not why I gave her Sundays off.”

“Why did you?”

“To give her the illusion of freedom. Of fairness. For now, I’ll let her believe she has a chance. People without hope can’t be broken.” My mother lifts the glass to her lips. “You see? I’m giving us both what we want. You get to break her, and I get to kill her.”

Hatred laces Magda’s words. The fact that I want this woman enough to defy my mother elicits Magda’s scorn. I have no doubt she’ll make Valentina pay for causing me to stray from the not so straight and narrow path cut out for me.

At my silence, Magda says, “You understand we can’t let her meet her end of the bargain? That’ll be weak.”

“I promised her nine years.”

“I have no intention of letting her live that long.” Her smile grows until it invades all of her face. “She’s bound to screw up sooner than later.”

A sudden insight startles me. Magda is happy with the turn of events. She wants Valentina to suffer, and she’s relying on my natural disposition to make it happen.

* * *

Valentina

My throat aches from pent-up tears as I leave Mrs. Louw’s study. If I had any hope that Gabriel’s mother would have compassion and help me, it’s been eradicated in that room. She’s worse than her son, her blackness far colder.

I’m sick to my stomach with worry over Charlie. I need to call Kris and check that he’s all right, but Gabriel gave me my clothes and held onto my purse with my phone. I can’t allow myself to think about this morning or Puff. Not yet. For now, I need to be strong.

With the imminent danger of death over, reality crashes down on me. Despair seeps into my pores. The calculation is harrowing. I’ll be thirty-two before I walk free. If I ever walk free. There’s no doubt in my mind Gabriel will kill me without blinking an eye. I know men like him. My father was one. The servant role isn’t only to pay off a debt. It’s a means of degrading me. I have no issue pulling the hair from Gabriel’s shower or scrubbing his toilet. What’s killing me is sleeping under his roof and eating food he pays for. I’m forced to allow my enemy to take care of me. It feels personal and wrong. The last thing I want from Gabriel is any kind of care. I’ll talk to Kris and negotiate to work Sundays. That way I’ll still be able to pay for my studies. No matter what, I’m not giving it up. It’s my only hope, our ticket out of Berea. I’ll just have to put my plans on the backburner for nine years.

After getting lost in corridors and too many rooms with sofas and chairs––How many lounges can one family need?––I finally locate the kitchen at the far east end of the mansion. The size of the house overwhelms me. It’s going to be a hell of a job to keep the place spotless.

Marie waits for me in a sterile looking kitchen, a hostile expression on her face. “I better show you around.”

Wordlessly, I fall in behind her. We go through the ground level with its reading, sitting, television, entertainment, and dining rooms, and up a flight of stairs. The bedrooms and bathrooms on the first level are luxurious and comfortable. As we move along, my heart sinks lower and lower. It’s too much.