Stolen Life (Beauty in the Stolen 2)

Leon has warmed up to me. He takes a chair next to me and entertains me with funny tales of Ian’s childhood while Ian grills stuffed peppers for me and beef sausages for everyone else. Ruben keeps his distance, but he’s less openly hostile.

After dinner, I manage to drag Ian to the circle of dancers and get him to do a few rounds with me while Leon takes up drumming and Ruben smokes a joint.

We retire early because Ian says he wants me to rest, but he has me stripped naked before we’re on the deck. He takes me right there, against the door, and again inside the shower. It’s a long time later when he finally lets me sleep.

I wake up to the call of a hadeda, discovering to my dismay it’s past ten o’clock. After wolfing down the breakfast and pills Ian has left for me, I call the lodge and ask Wataida to fetch me, but it’s Ian who arrives with the Jeep. He drives me to the village and drops me off at the outcrop from where I make my way to the fields while he goes to check on supplies at the clinic.

The cabbages continue to grow without splitting. The heads are bright-green and fat, and the leaves are sweet and meaty. They should fetch a good price at the market. The women have pickled the ones that have split prematurely so as not to let them go to waste.

Even if the blisters are drained and not bothering me any longer, I don’t do manual labor today. My heart is battling more than usual, leaving me tired enough to know I should give it a rest. Instead, I chat with Keeya about the crops they’re planning for autumn, and by noon, Ian comes to fetch me to have lunch at the lodge.

A delivery van is parked at the entrance. Men in overalls are carrying a new sofa inside.

“I didn’t want Banga to see this,” Ian says when we enter, motioning at the blood-stained sofa standing in the hall, ready to be taken away. “I wanted it done before his return.”

“That’s considerate. I’m sure Banga has enough trauma from the event to deal with. He doesn’t need a reminder.” He definitely doesn’t need the bloody sofa staring him in the face when he comes back to work after his recovery.

“What about you?” Ian asks, cupping my cheek. “How’s my girl dealing with all that trauma?”

My heart warms at being called his girl. I can’t help but smile. “I’m good.”

“You always are, aren’t you?” he says softly, kissing my nose.

We eat with Leon, Ruben, and some of the staff on the deck. Afterward, I help the women to tidy the kitchen. Shona is due back tomorrow. We want her to find everything in the sparkling clean state she always leaves it.

They ask for input on the menu for the rest of the week. We go through the stock in the pantry and make a list of what to order at the same time as writing menus on the blackboard on the wall. On the farm, I’d been more involved with my dad’s duties outside than helping my mom out at home. The kitchen responsibilities are new to me. I’m enjoying them nonetheless, and there’s much for me to get involved in.

When the planning is done, I get ready for the party, taking extra time with my appearance. I curl my hair with old-fashioned curlers Keeya had gotten for me and go for a smoky-eye and nude lipstick look.

The velvet dress is a simple fit with a low V-cut and thin straps. The hem falls just above my knees. It’s decent yet sensual, not showing off too much skin but still sexy in an understated way. The funky, black heels add a bit of dare to the otherwise plain style.

I’ve never been big on jewelry. I don’t own much other than the small diamond studs I never remove from my ears. My parents gave them to me for my eighteenth birthday, just before we lost everything. I dab some perfume behind my ears, and I’m ready.

Ian got ready in the bathroom, leaving me space in the bedroom, and when he walks through the doors dressed in a pinstripe suit with an open-neck collar shirt, he takes my breath away. His hair is tied back, exposing the shaved bottom half and making him look like a hot rogue. With the stubble darkening his jaw, he looks every bit the crime lord he is. He smells nice too, of Givenchy Play for men. I know because I sneaked a look on his side of the cabinet in the bathroom.

He stops inside the door, his gaze cutting a path over me from top to bottom. The fire in his eyes says he likes what he sees. The flare of his nostrils says he’s jealous of other men seeing what he sees. The bulge in his pants is proof that he wants me.