Page 55 of Conquer
The only way to salvage this, I suspect, is to throw caution to the wind and lay the cards on the table.
“Magda wants to spend the day with Ainsley,” I blurt out. “Vadim and I will be out of town for a few hours, if you wouldn’t mind her playing here.”
“It will be good for them,” Francesca pitches in. Following my lead, she steps forward, bracing her hand on Maxim’s forearm and bit by bit some of the crackling tension eases. A minuscule bit. “They can play outside—”
“But canherefrain from taking out his hatred toward me on a child?” Vadim wonders, though I suspect that question is directed more at himself than anyone else. And I can tell from the set of his jaw alone that he wants to believe it. He does. But he’s spent so much of his life expecting the worst from those around him.
His first instinct is always to suspect.
“Can you?” he demands of Maxim.
The other man grits his teeth. “Can I trust you not to steal a child?” he counters. “Related to you by blood or not.”
They eye each other fiercely, but as the seconds pass, they don’t come to blows at least.
Finally, I can’t take the silence anymore.
“I’ll go get Magda.”
I race for the door as both men swivel in my direction with equally fierce expressions. Vadim flinches toward me. To stop me?
“Yes,” Francesca encourages from beyond the fray before he can voice any refusal out loud. “I’ll go get Ains.”
Taking my cue, I hasten outside and find Magda still clinging to Ena’s pantleg so tightly the bodyguard has to adjust his posture just to withstand her weight thrown against his one leg. Her eyes dart to the house—searching for Vadim?
When I reach for her, though, she takes my hand and reluctantly follows me inside. My heart pounds, my throat tightening as I realize that bringing a traumatized seven-year-old into the thick of a brooding feud between two powerful men may not be the best course of action.
But right when I hesitate, Vadim appears in the doorway to the house. Gone is his hateful mask. He looks neutral again, his composed, poised self.
Meeting his daughter’s gaze, he inclines his head for her to follow. Her trust in him is apparent solely in the fact that she does, even as her grip on me tightens to the point I feel myself wince.
Maxim is no longer in view, I realize, as we cross the spacious living room for a door leading out to their terrace. It seems the other man has migrated outside, his posture tense, his back to us as we step out to join him.
When he turns to face Magda, I exhale sharply. A blind man could sense the sheer amount of discipline he’s utilizing to keep his expression neutral. Some of the ice leaves those cold, dark eyes, rendering him slightly less “big and scary.” But apparently not enough.
Releasing me, Magda contorts herself to cling to Vadim’s leg, forcing him to stop short. It’s such a striking contrast to the brave little girl who had spurned him just a few short weeks ago. Though I think this new display of emotion is merely a testament to how much she’s opened herself up to him. How much she’s learning to trust him.
And Vadim’s pained frown tells me that he is well aware of that fragile bond. Sighing, he sinks down to her level and cradles her chin against his palm, urging her to meet his gaze.
“I know you’re afraid.” He brushes some of her tears away and smooths back her curls. “But you don’t need to be. Here, you can play with your friend and focus on your tea parties.”
She shakes her head. “Why are you leaving me? Again!”
“I’m not,” he says firmly. “I will never leave you. Besides, Mr. Ena whom I trust more than anyone else in the world will stay with you, yours to command. I’ll return as soon as I can, and you have your cell phone, yes?” He brushes his hand along the fanny pack that’s become a near-permanent fixture around her waist. “If you ever feel unsafe, I will return within an instant.”
He sounds so damn reassuring, his expression persistently calm. Even she can’t resist. Her bottom lip trembles, her eyes still watering, but she loosens her grip on him enough for him to point to Maxim.
“And I’m not leaving you with just anyone,” he says, his voice a deep, soothing hum. “This is your uncle,chérie. He will protect you while I’m gone. And if he doesn’t…” His eyes flash. “Then he will answer to me.”
If Maxim takes offense to the threat, he surprisingly doesn’t say as much. With his face still arranged in that careful, neutral mask, he stalks forward and crouches, extending his hand in Magda’s direction, even as she flinches back.
“I hear you like ponies,” he says, his accent sounding more charming than threatening. “Would you like to see mine?”
Magda glances warily at her father, who nods in encouragement. “It’s okay.”
Slowly, she places her tiny hand on Maxim’s enormous one and allows him to lead her toward the edge of the terrace. Even so, she looks back at Vadim, her bloodshot eyes frantic.
“It will be alright,” he says so fiercely even her fear can’t withstand his assurance. “I promise you.”
