Page 28 of Conquer
“Night darling,” she murmurs to me, planting a kiss on my cheek. In a voice too low for Vadim to hear, she whispers, “Very good catch, darling.”
And I want to melt into a puddle of shame as they finally leave the dining room.
“I don’t have to stay,” Vadim says, rising to his feet. “I’ll be in town at least until it’s time for Magda to come home. Then I’ll—”
“Wait.” I suck in a breath and let it out slowly while parsing my options. Finally, I make up my mind and face him. Self-preservation trumps pride, and I eye his collar rather than meet his gaze. I’m not brave enough. “We need to talk.”
Preferably—given how our last few conversations have gone—somewhere far out of my parents’ earshot. And Magda’s for that matter.
Vadim frowns and, for the first time, a teeny hint of unease gnaws through my wall of anger. Could his hesitation be because he’d already picked up some floozy who—as I was in our first days of meeting—is now lounging around his suite, waiting for her next delivery of designer clothing? I let myself indulge in the possibility as though it were real.
And jealousy claws through my chest so violently I have to smother a gasp. Could I even blame him if he did have another woman in the wings?No,I realize as I scan his face and catch the glimpses of exhaustion, he’s so cleverly disguised until now. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.
And maybe hehas, merely to drive that stake through my chest—punish me. “If you’ve already made plans—”
“No,” he says quickly, though his frown only deepens. “No… It’s that my hotel suite this time isn’t what you’re used to.”
I raise an eyebrow, my dread building, jealousy seething. “Oh?”
He seems to deflate and rakes his fingers through his hair, disrupting yet another aspect of his polished façade. “It’s just that, I wasn’t planning on sharing it with anyone.”
“I’m not staying,” I add, even as my curiosity is piqued tenfold. “We just need to discuss some logistics.”
“Alright.” He stands, and we take a detour into the sunroom to reclaim his jacket. In the distance, Magda is barely visible, sitting on my father’s lap, pointing up at the stars in the sky as both he and my mother babble on.
It’s a heartwarming sight even I can’t deny.
Vadim, however? His expression melts, conveying such tenderness…
I have to turn away and nearly run out to his car just to escape it. His hotel, I quickly realize, is on the outskirts of my old hometown, about ten minutes from my family’s home—the narrowest adherence to my previous guidelines regarding his distance from me. And he wasn’t lying about his room.
I’m taken aback as I follow him into the narrow, efficient setup. Gone is the sprawling, luxurious penthouse booked by a bachelor accustomed to picking up escorts at random when the urge struck. This small, yet comfortable, suite is the preference for a man solely intent on business over pleasure. Even the bed is a modest full instead of a massive king.
Instead, the star attraction is a sleek modern style office in the corner, complete with a mini, circular conference table.
I take up one end while Vadim collapses onto a chair across from me. His stricken expression makes something inside me flinch, and I hesitate, unsure of what to say. He looks so damn tired. Exhausted. Like a man waiting for his execution to finally commence. He’s had enough of this torture.
But so have I.
“Tell me something that will make me forgive you,” I demand, letting every ounce of raw anger and pain seep into my voice. “Though believe me when I say that I don’t ever think I can.”
The pure intensity of my emotions seems to take him back. His posture sprawls out without an ounce of poise to guide it, his fingers raking through his hair—in this moment, comfort takes precedence over putting on a show. He’s fully unguarded, his wall in shambles, and my heart sinks. I’m not sure if I’m well equipped enough to face him like this.
Gritting my teeth, I’m willing to try, though. “You hurt me,” I add before he can say a word in his own defense. “You really did. How dare you accuse me of wanting to harm Magda?” I’m blinking furiously, desperate to keep from crying. “How dare you?”
“I’m not sorry for what I did,” he admits, his tone firm. Stubborn, even. The blatant honesty tempers the pain ripping through my chest—at least he’s not lying or trying to manipulate. It’s the truth. “I will always put Magdalene first. Always. But… It wasn’t until I saw you upset that I realized I should have gone about it differently. I know you would never purposefully hurt her.” It seems to kill him to admit as much—the calculating, manipulative Vadim fucked up. He went too far to reach his aims. “You were supposed to demand money,” he continues, his voice lacking any inflection. He could seem robotic if it weren’t for the vast wealth of emotion contorting his expression. His hair is a mess, his eyes fixated on something beyond me. “Money or something else of value to you—”
“You think I’m that much of a gold-digging bitch?” I lurch to my feet and spin around, definitely on the verge of tears now.
“But I’ve seen how you are with her,” he mutters as if oblivious to my reaction. He’s speaking without his filter this time—saying plainly whatever thoughts are in his head. A man with nothing left to lose and the world to gain. “You could extort me, but I know you wouldn’t do the same to her. I could live with that. I had to live with that. You weren’t supposed to…”
“What?” I whirl to face him, my arms crossed, posture livid.
“Wantme,” he confesses, his eyes meeting mine without an ounce of anger or defensiveness. “My money, material things, yes. I told myself I could lose your interest, if it meant keeping you for Magdalene. It would damn near kill me,” he adds, his hand at his throat, stroking the remnants of his scar. “But I could endure it. I could forfeit your body. This game. But never, would I gamble something more.”
“I don’t know what kind of women you usually consort with,” I croak through clenched teeth, “but most don’t shack up with a man they barely know and fall in love with his daughter for money. Most women don’t forgive mind game, after mind game for money! Most women don’t beg for more from a man only to get his fucking money!”
“But most people are more than content to useme,” he counters, snarling. Lunging.
