Page 46 of Conquer
Chapter Fourteen
The door to our room flies open with a bang, rousing me from a light sleep and making Vadim lurch upright, wrenching the covers back. His rigid posture conveys power—a desire to protect so vicious I’m awed in the face of it.
But just as quickly he transforms as our intruder makes herself known in frantic little steps, her braids askew, her bear dangling from one hand.
“Chérie?” He reaches for her hesitantly, his brows drawn. “What’s wrong—”
“I don’t like it here,” she declares, lunging onto the bed. As I watch in shock, she squirms in between us, curling into a ball, her face buried in the body of her bear. “I hate this place. I want to go home.”
“Home?” Vadim asks, as if horribly confused by the prospect. He reaches out, stroking her back. When she doesn’t recoil, he tentatively braces his arm around her, and almost instantly, she’s burrowing into his chest, her tiny limbs shaking.
“Home,” she insists plaintively, in a tone I’ve never heard her use. “I want to go home! With my pony. I want my old room. I don’t like it here!”
“Alright. Alright…” He relents with little resistance, petting through her hair. His expression is puzzled—confused even. As if he isn’t quite sure of the allure that would drive a child to his arms in the middle of the night. Or why she might instinctively love the home he labored to prepare for her. But I think he’s catching on quickly.
His eyes meet mine, alight with the beginnings of a life-altering revelation. With Magda in between us, I risk reaching over her to stroke his chest and nod in encouragement.
“Super dad,” I mouth to him, much to his surprise.
Slowly, he settles her tiny figure against him, cradling her carefully, his gaze awestruck. I realize now that—not even in his most optimistic of potential futures—did he envision a moment like this. One so sweet,Ialmost feel like the intruder…
Until Magda hooks her tiny hand around my wrist as if sensing the possibility that I might pull away. I surrender to her grasp, thanking my lucky stars that Vadim and I are at least clothed during this midnight intrusion.
It seems our forced abstinence worked out for the best, in the end.
And, I suspect judging from Vadim’s wistful gaze, better than he could have ever dared to hope.
* * *
Despite Vadim’sprior intention to sell the house, “home” turns out to be pretty much as we’d left it. As I peer into the foyer, I have a mental image of him studiously overseeing a team of movers, ensuring they replaced everything in the same exact position—minus any bloodstains in the kitchen or signs of a psychotic blond.
Even so, I’m surprised by just how strongly a sense of dread paralyzes me as I linger on the threshold. Especially considering that I had no problem entering the home I shared with Jim after hefigurativelystabbed me in the back.
But now?
My hands shake, and breathing becomes a struggle. If I’m honest with myself, I know exactly why I’m on edge. It’s not fear of Irina that makes me linger in the fresh air, unable to enter those four walls. It’s the crushing reality of who might never come to exist to fill this home at all. The rooms beside Magda’s that might never gain an occupant. The wonderful, albeit lonely life she’ll have as an only child—spoken from experience.
Unless, of course, her father remarried someone else capable of expanding his family tenfold.
“Are you alright?” Vadim wonders, his gaze intense with concern, his hand on my lower back.
Forcing a smile, I nod. “Yeah… Besides, it looks like someone’s happy.”
Oblivious to my discomfort, Magda tears through the lower level, a whirlwind of energy. Her joy gives me the courage necessary to cross the threshold, and I find myself caught in her wake, laughing as she eagerly unpacks her clothes in her room.
“Can I go play with Ainsley?” she asks Vadim once our things are put away, and we’ve had lunch at the dining room table. “Please?” She bats her eyelashes, playing his heartstrings like a fiddle. I almost feel bad for the man.
Helpless, he looks to me, but I shrug innocently, leaving him to drown.
“I…”
“Ena will take,” a firm voice pitches in before the bodyguard himself marches into the kitchen. “And there is cake. In fridge.” He looks at me, his gaze conveying something unspoken that catches me off guard. I vaguely remember Vadim mentioning something about a special chocolate cake Ena sometimes bakes. Dare I hope for a truce?
The old bodyguard turns away before I can be sure, shuffling to the sliding glass door leading to the terrace.
“Come,” he grunts, his tone unusually soft, directed at the tiny figure leaping to her feet.
“Really?” Magda skips toward him, clutching It to her chest. No one would ever know that a horrific attack took place in this very room just a few days ago. At least, if it weren’t for the way she’s starting to carry her bear almost every waking moment. She’s already worn at It’s newly sewn head, and I’m sure he’ll wind up decapitated again before long.
