Page 54 of Conquer
I nod. “And an uncle who, admittedly, is big and scary enough to protect her from anyone who might harm her, let alone Irina—”
“You want me to leave my daughter with Maxim?” He breaks away from me, scowling at the mere idea.
But I don’t relent, following him into his study. “What scenario do you think will benefit her more in the long run? Having a friend her own age to play with, and getting to know her uncle—learning not to fear him to the point that she can’t even sleep in her own bed for a week—or huddling here with Ena watching cartoons all day and trying to make him pretend to be a princess? By the time we come back, I’m sure she’ll be starting to put down roots into the flooring.”
He scoffs, unconvinced. “What makes you think he would even agree to it?” He whirls to face me, but rather than angry, he just looks…helpless. Like a drowning man who knows a lifeline is within reach—but he’s afraid it will vanish the second he grasps it.
“I think he will,” I say, stepping into him, letting our bodies connect and collide. “If youaskhim to.”
He’s still frowning, embodying Magda’s surly, brooding mood from this morning. But eventually, he sighs, wrapping his arms around me—though taking care with my injuries. “Maybe. But…”
I rest my head on his chest, wiggling into his touch. “But?”
“But if Maxim refuses to watch Magdalene, thenyouhave to tell Ena he’ll be on tea party duty.”
I giggle, picturing the image in my head. “Deal.”
* * *
SendingMagda to Maxim’s for a harmless playdate, during which she can bond with both her uncle and pseudo-cousin, sounded promising in theory. A win-win, actually. The reality, however, turns out to be a lesson in child wrangling as Magda refuses to get out of the car once she recognizes the house we’re parked in front of.
With her arms crossed, her persistent utterances of “No,” quickly devolve to high-pitched shouting. Soon, her stoic façade gives way entirely to wracking sobs and real, enormous tears spilling down her cheeks as Vadim finally coaxes her from the backseat.
“Oh,ma chérie…” He rocks her in his arms, murmuring soothingly to her in French while, from the house, a curious press of faces watches us from the windows.
“Look at me,” Vadim finally urges in a tone stern enough to make her risk lifting her head from his shoulder. Her bloodshot eyes scan his imploringly as her white-knuckled hands grip his forearms to what I’m sure is the point of pain. “I will never put you in danger,” Vadim tells her. “Do you believe that? That I will always do what is best for you?”
Slowly, Magda nods even as her eyes continue to spill over. Her bottom lip trembles, her expression so stricken…
I relent first. “Maybe we should go back—”
“No.” Vadim crouches down, settling his daughter on his knee. Gingerly he wipes away her tears and smooths the wild curls back from her face. She has no choice but to quiet down and listen to him. “My brave girl is going to wait here while I go inside,oui?”
He sounds so confident and assured for her. When I can tell from how the muscle in his jaw twitches that inside, he’s thinking—I’ll go inside, and hopefully, Maxim refuses to take you, and this is all rendered moot, and we can watch cartoons for the rest of the week.And yet, he does his best not to reveal his doubts. He smothers his own unease, entirely for her.
“Why don’t you stay with Mr. Ena?”
Following his cue, Ena steps forward to take her hand, and she promptly clings to his hip, the princess, and her trusty henchman.
Together Vadim and I approach the house only to have the door opened from within the moment we reach it. Lucius isn’t the one standing guard on the other end, this time. A wary Francesca greets us instead, her eyes guarded as they flick over Vadim.
And looming behind her, the picture of brute strength, is Maxim, his posture tense, dark eyes flashing. I sense myself instinctively step back, letting the brothers square each other up in their unique, calculating ways. Maxim glowers while Vadim eyes him coldly, his unease painfully apparent.
“Hello,” Francesca says softly, and yet her voice alone seems to crack the tension enough that Maxim uncurls his hands out of fists. “What brought you over?” she prompts, her eyes on me.
Sighing, I take my cue and forge a path inside, leaving Vadim to follow in my wake. “We wanted to see if Magda could spend the day while we—”
“She can sense your hostility, you do realize,” Vadim says in a deadly quiet tone. My alarm bells go off, and I instantly regret suggesting this option. Nothing, it seems, can ease thirty years of animosity overnight. Not even the welfare of a little girl.
“Your hatred toward me,” Vadim continues in a hiss, still positioned in the doorway, his head cocked, gaze ice-cold. “You scared the hell out of her. We couldn’t get her out of bed for a week. She would rather hide inside than feel safe venturing out of her own home. Because ofyou.”
For all of his coldness…
Something in Maxim’s expression gives for a split second, and I know the accusation hit home. His jaw twitches, his lips parting before slamming shut into a fearsome scowl.
“So what?” he tosses back, his accent thick. “You demand I leave? Try to buy this property out from under me, again?”
Vadim grits his teeth, and I sense something in him falter. Spite? Guilt? He’s wavering on a precipice, and one wrong act will send him hurtling over it—both of them.
