Sold (Christian Romance)

Chapter Four

Remi collapsed on the bed; his limbs aching as his head sank into his pillow. He had endured a tiring day at work and had suffered a worse evening while trying to put Jesse—his overactive six-year-old daughter—to sleep. Releasing a tired sigh, he turned over to the side, barely closing his eyes when his phone chirped. He groaned, tossing his pillow over his head; the last thing he wanted to do was endure a conversation with whoever was calling him.

Still, the caller was persistent, and unable to ignore the call any longer, he grudgingly reached for his phone. Scrubbing his eyes with his sleeves to clear his blurry vision, he stared at the caller ID; Abigail. His heart leapt at the sight of her name, anxiety pushing him to a sitting position as he answered the phone.

"Abigail, what is wrong? Are you okay?" he gasped, concerned. He cared deeply for her over the last three years and had sworn to protect her after learning of her past.

"Other than the fact that I'm being eaten alive out here by mosquitoes, I'm not doing too badly." She giggled. "I'm at your front door, by the way."

"You are where?" He rubbed his forehead, confused. He felt a headache coming on.

"Downstairs! Let me in!"

Groaning, he climbed out of bed and hurried down the stairs. He unlocked the door to find her standing there with a woman who had her head bowed.

"Remi." She reached for him, pulling him into a warm embrace. He frowned, knowing something was wrong. Every muscle in his body told him he would not like the reason for her visit, and after listening to her tale for nearly fifteen minutes, he decided his muscles were right.

"What?" he breathed, hoping he could close his eyes and open them to find he was simply having a terrible dream.

"I only need you to keep her here for a while." Her words confirmed his nightmare. "Her husband might know to come and look for her in my house."

"Oh, Aby, please tell me you did not just kidnap a patient. Please tell me this is not happening!"

"Remi," she stepped forward, but he backed away, "I need you." She frowned.

"Don't drag me into this! What is wrong with you? Is this some kind of midlife crisis? Menopause? Is this what menopause looks like? For God's sake, what's the explanation for this madness? First it was forgery, now it's kidnapping! Do you not see the pattern here? Soon, we will be robbing banks."

"I know I am asking for a lot, but you are all I have."

"Don't do that; don't play with my emotions."

"But it's true!" she whined, placing a hand against his forearm. "You are."

Groaning, he turned from her and began pacing. He needed to think, and he needed Abigail to think. This was the most absurd thing he had ever heard. Had he fallen so low as to be harboring hostages? No! He could not, would not, allow this to continue. He had to get rid of Abigail. Let her face the consequences of her action and dance to the tune of the music herself. He couldn't get involved; he had a child to think of.

He turned to give her the news—she was on her own. But as he turned to her, he saw how vulnerable she was; she needed him, really did. She was passionate about this stranger and he could not turn her away. He exhaled, knowing he would regret his next words.

"One month," he roared. "You have one month to sort things out. I don't care what you have to do and to whom you have to do it. One month Abigail! That is it." He stomped his foot to make a point. After one month, he would not let her manipulate him like this, and mentally, he made a note to avoid eye contact with her so he wouldn't be dragged into her schemes in the future.

"One month. I am sure one month is enough for God to work things out." She smiled.

"Let us not drag God into this," he murmured.

..........

Sisi listened to the exchange in silence. She felt unwanted, and she didn't like the feeling. If this man did not want her, he did not have to keep her, and she was about to say so when common sense warned her against it. She needed him. Whether or not she liked it, she needed his sympathy until she could get a job, a life or something. The only thing that was clear to her was that by the end of one month, she would not give him the pleasure of kicking her out of his home.

"Sisi, this is Remi." Abigail tugged on her arm.

She raised her eyes to look him in the face, determined she would put up a bold front. She did not want to look pitiable and weak.

"Remi," she managed.

His gaze settled on her, recognition lighting up his eyes. He knew her.

"The woman who does not want any help. Ironic." He looked like he was caught between laughing and crying. She raised her chin.

"I only need a place to stay tonight. I will be out of here tomorrow," she lied, knowing she had nowhere to go. Still, pride kept her mute. What were the odds that the same man who disrespected her in the store, the man who challenged her and told her to get off her high horse, would be the same man she would need to beg to house her?

Beg. She had never had to beg for anything, but here she stood, her pride stripped, her life laid bare before a man who took delight in seeing her like this. What was ironic was the fact that she was running away from one man and running into the arms of another. This could be a worse situation, and she knew it quite well.

"Don't be silly." Abigail brushed her off. Remi stood there, ready for battle. "I have to go now. Remi, please be nice to her." She disappeared through the door, yelling, "Goodnight."

She watched helplessly as Abigail disappeared through the door. She wanted to run after her—to go anywhere rather than be here, under the condescending glare of Remi. And while she desperately wanted to convince herself otherwise, Sisi knew the night could be described as anything, but 'good' was not one of them.

"Sisi." He examined her. "Is that your real name?"

"That is what you are to call me." She matched his stance.

"I will show you to your room." He marched out of the living room and she followed silently behind.