Page 8 of Conquer
“You want time?” he questions. The telltale scrape of a chair over the flooring warns of him standing, his steps heavy. “You have it. But I suggest you not take too long. I am well used to the pain that comes from rejection by others—but Magdalene? My daughter will never know that pain again.Never.You can toy with me all you’d like, but I won’t let you trap her in your web. Never will you be the one to take her happiness away.”
His steps advance from the kitchen, moving toward the foyer.
“Leave or stay,” he adds. “But know that I am done playing your game.”
He retreats to some distant corner of the house, and I slump against the nearest wall, gasping for air. My chest feels so damn tight. Like it’s caught in a vice, being crushed between desire and fear. Ultimatums are nothing new—Jim tossed out his fair share.
But none ever left me feeling like this…
Shaken to my fucking core. Beaten down to a fragile shell seconds from cracking. No one else in my entire life has ever left me so uncertain. Of myself. Of the world around me. Of my heart and every fiber making up the body I’ve spent twenty-eight years dwelling within.
I don’t even process moving, but eventually, I find myself outside, sitting on the edge of the pool in the frigid morning air, shivering, my legs calf-deep in the water. I don’t know how long I’ve sat like this. Just that my only tether to the real world comes in the form of a tiny, disapproving voice speaking to me from the direction of the house.
“Are you going to go swimming in your clothes again?”
I turn to find Magda watching me from the doorway of the kitchen. She’s neatly dressed in a light blue skirt and magenta sweater. Someone took the time to brush her hair and braid it with meticulous care, securing two pigtails with pure white ribbons.
I don’t know why I flinch at first. Vadim’s her father, he should be the one to help her. And yet, I can’t help but interpret the act as a threat, its warning simple. When it comes down to it, I’m not needed.
“No,” I tell her, forcing a tired smile. “I’m just thinking.” I kick my legs for emphasis, sending up a spray of water.
Warily, she slips from around the door and approaches me, her hands on her hips. “Can I play with Ainsley today?” she asks.
I sigh, turning my gaze to the churning waters of the bay beyond our quiet spot. “I don’t know, honey. You’ll have to ask your father—Mr. Vadim.”
A glance from the corner of my eye reveals her pouting, but seemingly undeterred. “I’m hungry.”
“Okay.” I unfurl my sore limbs and follow her into the kitchen. There, I spot the time above the stove and realize that I’ve lost at least three hours, just staring into space. I’m freezing as a result, shivering violently as I adjust to the heat of the house.
After making Magda a bowl of cereal, I creep upstairs into the master bedroom, relieved to find it empty. I shower quickly and throw on a relatively casual outfit consisting of a light linen dress and a sweater. When I return downstairs, Magda’s still seated at the table, but a larger figure dominates the space beside her.
He’s adjusted his outfit, smoothing out the rumpled appearance to regain his polished composure. The only oddity to contrast his icy, businessman persona is the fact that he’s manipulating a white teddy bear with utmost care.
It got a makeover, it seems. His fur is a brighter, cleaner white as if he took a trip through the washing machine. He’s also been freshly stuffed, his head sewn back on and adorned with a tiny red scarf to hide the stitching around his neck.
“What do we think?” Vadim asks, holding the toy up for Magda’s inspection.
She observes the bear critically and then nods in approval, reaching for it. Vadim watches as she tucks the bear under her arm, betraying a sentiment that makes my throat constrict.
It’s like my torment alerts him to my presence before any other clue. His head jerks up, those dark eyes roving in my direction. Coldly, they graze over me before returning to his daughter as he smooths his fingers over one of her braids.
“Would you like to ride Dasha today?” he asks, referring to her pony.
She perks up. “Can we?” She’s already lurching to her feet and bounding from the kitchen by the time he tells her yes. I step aside, my lips parting into a smile. But the expression lasts until the second I see Vadim’s face.
Gone is the warmth he displayed around his daughter. That coldness sets in, hardening the line of his jaw and making his gaze so chilling, I’m frozen even in my sweater. The worst part is that his wall is down all the way, and there’s nothing to temper the hostility. The raw pain he displays, making one fact overwhelmingly clear.
It’s all my fault.
And yet, I can’t seem to move. I’m frozen, caught like a deer in the headlights of this fragile truce until Magda comes racing back into the kitchen, her skirt swapped for jodhpurs, her riding helmet in place.
Like magic, Vadim’s face transforms again, radiating warmth as he stands and follows her out. Before she steps over the threshold, however, she looks back, her gaze finding me.
“Are you going to come to watch?” she asks in that wary, hesitant tone. As if, like Vadim, she’s guarding herself from me, still unsure.
I nod as enthusiastically as I can. “Of course!”
“Then come on.” She squares her shoulders and marches off, her father in tow. And I promptly stagger to the nearest counter, gripping the edge so tightly my knuckles whiten.
