Stolen Life (Beauty in the Stolen 2)

His smile comes slowly. “We’ll see about that.”

Bastard.

Without sparing me another glance, he walks off.

I’m shaking with anger. I want to pick up a rock and hurl it at the tinted windows of the limo as it slowly passes by, but I can only stand there in incredulous helplessness.

“That’s Oliver,” Shona says behind me. “He runs the casino on the Zambian side. Ian uses him to launder money.”

I’m surprised she knows this much. “It would’ve been nice if Ian had told me this,” I say with a huff.

Coming to stand next to me, we follow the progress of the car. “Ian is letting you in, but how deep are you willing to go?”

I look at her. “Why did you tell Banga to bring me here? You wanted me to see that.” I motion with my head toward the car that turns left and vanishes behind the trees.

She folds her hands in front of her. “You need to know what you’re in for.”

“Do I have a choice?”

She studies me for a few beats. “There’s always a choice.”

“What are you saying?”

“If you can’t accept who Ian is, and I mean all of it, it’s best you set him free. Don’t tie him to you more that you already have. Unrequited love is a miserable thing.”

I clench my hands. “I didn’t ask—”

“Stop making excuses. Accept what it is or leave.”

Or leave. I gape at her back as she turns for the kitchen. She makes it sound so easy.

On second thought, I charge after her. “Or leave? What’s that’s supposed to mean? That you’ll help me escape?”

She gives me an annoyed look from over her shoulder when Banga sticks his head around the doorframe of the office.

“Shona.” I stretch my steps to keep up. “Ian will never let me leave. He’ll come after me. Leaving is like betrayal, and you know what happens to traitors.”

She spins around. “I thought maybe you could be the woman he deserves,” she says, looking me up and down, “but if you let two little whores and a few obstacles win, you’re not strong enough for him.”

“What was I supposed to do?” I throw my hands in the air. “Beg him not to go?”

“You could’ve asked nicely. He won’t say no to you.”

I doubt that very much.

“Have some breakfast,” she says, waving at the table as she continues back to the kitchen. “It’s anyway wasted.”

I don’t think so. I’m not putting my mouth on the food she prepared for those women. It’s childish, but my pride won’t surrender to eating their leftovers.

Not wanting to bother Banga more than I already have, I ask Wataida to accompany me to the fields. The women always bring black coffee, milk, and maize bread. I have a slice of bread with a cup of coffee for breakfast and lose myself in work.

The cabbages we transplanted are coming along nicely. They’re not splitting any longer. The majority of the crop has been saved.

“Why are you working so hard on the crops?” I ask Keeya when we take a break in the shade of a tree for lunch. “I know Ian supports the whole village.”

She hands me a maize bread sandwich spread with margarine. “We like to keep independent. What if Ian dies?”

I give an internal start at the notion. The bread gets stuck in my throat. I inhale deeply, dragging the dusty air into my lungs. From a practical point of view, that makes sense, but I don’t want to think of him as being dead.

“Men like him don’t live long,” she says gently, reminding me of Shona’s words.

I get up and dust off my clothes. Is that why Shona is pushing me so hard to look the truth in the eyes? They love and respect Ian. That much is obvious. Shona wants me to make Ian happy, but she wants me to go into our relationship with my eyes wide open so that a few nasty surprises don’t catch me off guard later on. The thing is, I’ve always known what he is. I’ve known from the moment he tapped on Mint’s window with the barrel of a gun. I just don’t know what to do with all these emotions warring in my chest.

Letting the work distract me, I help the women transplant the cabbage until my back aches and my head swims. When the sun starts to dip, I go back to the village with the others to feed the chickens and milk the cows. I help for a bit, but it’s really just an excuse to see Lesedi. I like her. She’s sweet and warm-hearted, and on a day like today, I can do with a little kind female company.

After greeting the women, I make my way over to Lesedi’s hut.

She stops sweeping the yard when she sees me. “Cas, how nice of you to drop by. I’ve just made coffee.”