“You know what I mean,” I beseech him. “Please, you have to tell me something sometime.” I’m no longer playful.

He takes a deep breath. “I work with the South African Intelligence Agency. I’m an undercover agent. We’ve been investigating Luxurious Group for quite some time now.”

He gauges my reaction. I’m also looking at him for any trace of a smile or bluff, but I find none. I think he’s as serious as a heart attack.

“But you were on their side? I don’t understand,” I mumble.

“I infiltrated their company. It was on the verge of bankruptcy. We merged with them so that I could be on the inside. We created a fake company, with records, a background, the works, so that they could buy into us, but that was way before you came into the picture.”

He walks to the drawer and retrieves a sleeveless t-shirt.

“What were you investigating them for?” I ask.

“Fraud, murder, bribery, defeating the ends of justice, tax evasion…you name it, they’ve done it. They caught our eye when Rudolph Silver, their accountant, was found dead. It was masked as a suicide, but we found evidence that he was killed. His wife is under protective custody because she provided records that suggest her husband was killed because he discovered Luxurious Group were lying on their financial records, and that they were using cheap building materials in their hotels. One of them collapsed and killed four people last year.”

Blessing is now sitting on the bed, looking ashen. This is a new look on him.

“Why don’t you arrest them?” I ask.

He takes a deep breath. “We don’t have enough evidence to use against them. If we charge them now, they’d be out in five minutes. They are well connected. The CEO’s wife suddenly died early last year, two days after she filed for divorce. That’s when we formed the fake company and I became Blessing Thomas the businessman.” He grins and brushes his neatly trimmed moustache.

My head is buzzing with all this new information and I haven’t even begun asking what I really want to know. “I’m hungry,” I say suddenly, waltzing into the kitchen.

“I made a huge breakfast,” says Mr Sharp Suit. “Help yourself.” And he really did. The table barely has space for anything else. There’s toasted bread, fried and scrambled eggs, bacon, fried tomatoes, russians, juice, coffee and tea.

“You don’t get to do this often, do you?” I ask, as I begin dishing out for us. He smiles a shy smile, and he looks like a normal guy who has a normal girl over to his house. Except that I’m not his girl, and as far as I can tell, nothing happened between us last night. I crush my trail of thought as it wonders about what might have happened last night.

Is this his house? I wonder.

“How can you tell?” he asks.

“No one does this every morning. It’s called having a job.” I chew on my bread. He’s a good cook. “Is this your house?” I ask.

“No, it’s a safe house.” He sits facing me.

“So you’re a cop?” I continue my own investigation. He nods, his eyes alight with humour.

“You love being a cop,” I conclude. He looks at me, still smiling, and I know it’s true. “How long have you been one?”

OK, I know, this is not exactly part of what I really want to know, but I’m intrigued by Mr Sharp Suit, and that’s what I’ll continue to call him, because I’m not even sure he remembers his real name.

“A decade,” he replies. “I did three years with the SAPS, then I was scouted by SAI. My Dad was a cop. He would take me out in his police cruiser, so I decided when I was seven that I was going to be a cop.”

“What about your Mom?” I regret the question as soon as I’ve asked it. Blessing freezes momentarily. I notice grief cross his face before he recovers.

“I don’t have a mother,” he says, “It was just my Dad and I.” He takes a gulp of his juice. I don’t recognize who he is now. His mood has shifted faster than an athlete’s legs on a run.

“So does your boss know that you kidnapped me last night?” I tease him, trying to lighten the mood. It works: he grins.

“Yes he does,” he answers, “and he’s impressed.”

“How long are you going to keep me here?”

“Until it’s safe for you to go back home.” I think he likes the idea of keeping me here.

“My Mom…” I start to say, and my words trail off. She must be sick with worry at the thought of losing me again.

“She’s fine, she was briefed on the situation. She’s under guard too, just in case they get to her to bring you out… My colleagues are questioning the guy who tried to kill you last night, so I am here to protect you until they make an arrest.”

Thinking about Mark is like cold water on my appetite. He died because of my stubbornness, and now my Mom is in danger too. Blessing avoids talking about him, so I make him tell me. I drop the fork loudly on my plate to draw his attention. “Tell me about Mark. Why were you there after the accident?” I whisper.

He frowns deeply, swallowing. “I was chasing the men who attacked you. When you didn’t emerge from the bush, we knew that something was wrong. At first, my partner John thought you might need a minute, being a couple on your anniversary.” He clears his throat and avoids eye contact. “But then I got worried. I decided to be sure, and that’s when I saw the van speed away. I saw the blood and I knew they had taken you.”

He stands up and leans against the cupboard, looking out the window. “I’m sorry, I should have been more alert, and I dropped the ball.”

I walk to stand in front of him. “I’m sure you did your best. You couldn’t have known those thugs were there,” I say, my voice soothing even to my own ears. “And Mark…” My words fail.

“He was badly beaten and he lost too much blood. He died saying he loves you. He asked me to protect you.” Blessing turns so that he’s facing the window. His whole body tightens and he folds his arms across his chest.

Tears spring to my eyes. I remember Mark’s voice. He was so bruised. I can still hear his shallow breathing, bidding me goodbye.

“Was it Luxurious Group?” My voice breaks now. “Did they kill him?”

“Yes,” he says, only moving his lips. “It was probably the CEO who ordered the hit on you.”

My knees give in. I gasp for air. Blessing catches me and helps me to a chair. “Why don’t you have enough to arrest him yet?” I snap.

“I’m close,” he tells me. “I’ve planted a bug in his work and personal computers to download his files. I just need to go and get it back, but you woke up and that became my priority.” He kneels before me, clasping my hands.

I look down when he squeezes gently and I realise that I’m only dressed in his shirt. He releases my hands when he sees my shock.

“I have nothing to wear,” I say, as I dash to the bedroom, away from his amused expression.

“You can wear my track pants,” he says. “I didn’t think that you would want your hospital gown, so I threw it away.” I hear the humour in his voice.

I groan. I shower first, and then put on his track pants and t-shirt. I have no choice.

***

Tell us what you think: Will Blessing succeed in bringing Luxurious Group to justice?