Page 46 of Corrupt: XXX Vadim 2
Surprisingly, she doesn’t argue. Minutes later, she’s dripping wet and freshly dressed in a pair of ivory silk pajamas that make her resemble a dark-haired variation of the porcelain doll tucked under her arm.
“Can I brush your hair?” I ask, moving toward her end table as I speak.
After a moment’s hesitation, she nods and climbs beneath the covers while I sit beside her and tackle those gorgeous curls. This time, I deliberately ignore that warning voice telling me to back away. That I shouldn’t be enjoying this. Smoothing my fingers through her hair shouldn’t feel this natural, neither should I take pride in how she relaxes against me.
I’m not her mother. It’s wrong.
“I thought you might be asleep…”
I look over to find Vadim hovering in the doorway. His eyebrow raises as he spots me beside Magda, and I smooth one last curl into place before backing away. She’s already slumped against the pillow, her eyes drifting shut. When she spots what Vadim holds in his hands, however, she bolts upright.
“I thought you might need this if you are to ride your pony tomorrow,” he says, stepping forward to place a large, white box on the bed. It’s wrapped neatly with a turquoise ribbon that Magda rips off before lifting the lid.
Her mouth drops open, and I can’t smother a grin as she gingerly withdraws a sheet of tissue paper to reveal a pair of tan jodhpurs, a white riding blouse, and an ebony jacket, complete with a riding helmet.
“They’re beautiful,” I murmur as Magda runs her fingers over the material.
Though she doesn’t admit it out loud, I can guess from her wide-eyed expression that she feels the same.
“I’ll let you get some sleep,” Vadim says, seemingly not expecting much more gratitude from her than that. “Goodnight.”
My heart feels swollen as he leaves. I slip from the bed and make the mistake of looking back. Magda’s already slumping sideways, her eyes falling shut even as she clutches the sleeve of her new jacket. I lift the box from her bed and set it aside before gently easing her beneath the blankets. I tell myself that the act is purely out of necessity—but brushing a stray curl behind her ear isn’t.
Neither is making sure that both Biphany and It are within her reach before turning off the light and finally leaving her room.
The panic I feel is ten times stronger than the emotions I try to resist when it comes to Vadim. I’ve had my heart stomped on by a man before. As much as it stings, I can survive that pain again. But I don’t think there’s a cure for loving a child that isn’t mine.
Don’t do this to yourself, Tiffy.
I enter the master suite and find Vadim sitting on the bed as if waiting for me. He’s removed his suit jacket, and the topmost buttons of his dress shirt are undone, revealing a tempting sliver of his chest. It’s a fitting distraction from budding emotional turmoil. After locking the door behind me, I eagerly start to strip my dress.
“Wait.” He stands and crosses to me. I’ve rarely seen him so tired, his lips pursed, eyes unreadable. Alarmed, I let my hands fall from the skirt of my dress as he captures each one, stroking the knuckles. “You are…incredible,” he tells me.
But this confession feels different from his prior attempts at practicing praise. His voice reaches down into some secretive, innermost part of me, making it bloom despite myself. Swell. I feel my cheeks catch fire, my throat tightening. The feeling has nothing to do with selfish pride or gratitude—it’s far simpler than that. It’s a desperation I’ve been struggling to ignore. A desperation to feel useful to him. To help him. To make him feel safe enough to keep his wall down around me, even as I mutter something about needing to leave. Boundaries.
“Youare incredible,” I tell him, inching closer. I bury my nose into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling him as his arms encircle me, cradling me to his lean frame. I’ve never felt so safe before.
And so very exposed.
* * *
A flurryof commotion has me blinking my eyes open to a darkened room, my heart racing. Shadows flicker along the walls, cast by a quickly moving figure darting from the closet. Before the panic can crest, I recognize that surly frown, barely visible through the dark.
“Vadim?” My voice croaks, heavy with sleep. “What’s going on?”
“Go back to sleep.” I stiffen at the steel in his tone. He marches back into the closet, and I hear hangers clanging together. The clock on his nightstand reads that it’s barely six a.m.
“You’re leaving?” I murmur as he stumbles back into the room, wrenching on a pair of loafers.
His gaze cuts up to mine, constricted with visible torment. “I… I need to attend to something. Get some sleep—” He crosses to me, brushing his lips over my cheek in a hasty kiss. “I’ll be back later today. If you need anything, I’ll have Ena stay close by.”
His wary grin struggles to convey a calmness that his stiff posture contradicts. Once he wrestles on his suit jacket and loops a tie into place, he practically races from the room.
Alone, I slump against the pillows, but it’s impossible to fall back asleep. Eventually, I slip into a robe and head downstairs in a futile search for coffee. Vadim, it seems, is a tea man. After heating up a kettle on the stove, I make myself a cup of some fancy French blend I can’t even begin to pronounce. Then I sit at the dining room table and watch the sunrise sluggishly over the water, my thoughts in turmoil.
To distract from his absence—and all the many potential causes for it—I scan the view beyond the window glass, pleasantly surprised.
Vadim’s been making small improvements to the property day by day, it seems. The playground is nearly done, lacking only a completed swing set. Near the water, I can see that the docks now sport two small rowboats that instantly make me imagine lazy days on the water beside him, Magda in tow.
