Page 9 of Conquer
Get it together,Tiffany,my inner bitch warns. But even she sounds shaken, a shadow of the guidance that has driven me since leaving Jim. That’s the scary part. Everything I rebuilt of myself—everything I managed to salvage of the shadow I became—I can feel splintering around me, in danger of crumbling all over again. Will the resulting Tiffany be stronger or worse off in the aftermath? I don’t know.
I don’t know anything about myself anymore. My thinking has been corrupted, shaped by a man who seems to crave me one minute, only to push me away the next. Then crave again, somehow making me feel as though it’s my fault for letting him shove. And if he keeps on shoving, I’m going to fall eventually.
Right,a part of me hisses.So, grit your teeth, dig your heels in and stand firm. What do you want?
Him.But on my terms, with enough time to ensure that this is really what he wants as well. I rushed into marriage with Jim and look how that turned out? I deserve the chance to convince myself in every way that life with Vadim is worth the inherent risks.
Because Jim hurt me so badly, it took a reckless vow of sexual exploration to get me back on my feet. Vadim? I can feel the echoes of that old pain where he is concerned—tenfold. He won’t just break me if I lose him the same way.
This man could utterly destroy me.
And yet it’s almost too easy to plaster a fake smile onto my face and skip out to the stable as if nothing is wrong. In one of the fenced-in pastures, I spot Magda, sitting astride her pony as Vadim directs her from the center of the paddock, holding a pink lead rope.
Watching them interact is always engrossing, but now with the sun shining and both of them fighting back grins? I’m helpless to resist. Creeping forward, I slip my fingers through the wooden slats of the fence and watch, my heart aching, my thoughts in disarray.
They move together so well, a beautiful synchrony. With gentle words and reminders, he corrects her posture and offers encouragement. With every word from him, she sits straighter, her eyes brightening, her lips twitching until a genuine grin unfurls despite herself. The potential relationship building between them could be something fearsome to behold—a partnership no one could ever come in between. But one with room for anyone else?
That remains to be seen. And I’m not the only one mulling that very question, I suspect. In the snatches of time that Magda’s back is to him, Vadim’s expression slips, revealing a tumult of contradicting emotions. Every now and again, he’ll look at me, his gaze still accusatory. Wounded. But the second he senses his daughter’s attention on him, he suppresses the darkness, greeting her only with the light.
It’s like being tortured, over and over again, leaving me grasping the paddock for sole support as I’m teased with the full extent of his happiness and then stabbed with his anger.
Again. Again. Again.
I barely notice the sound of approaching footsteps, until a childish bit of laughter reaches my ears. From Magda, I realize in shock. She’s practically bouncing in her saddle, waving frantically at a pair of figures advancing across the fields behind me.
Our intruders somehow made it past Ena, given the unofficial seal of approval to cut into the property from its west end. One of the figures sprints ahead, her dirty-blond hair flying out like a missile behind her. Within seconds, she’s at the paddock gates, cooing. “Wow! He’s so pretty,” she says with all of the solemn awe a child can possess.
Magda beams, so proud from her perch. “Sheis pretty,” she corrects. “Want to pet her?”
Ainsley looks to Vadim for permission, who tightens his grip on the lead rope and helps Magda down. Then he approaches the gate, allowing Ainsley inside, and stands watch as the girls fuss over the pony. It’s adorably cute in the brief moments those dark, storming eyes avoid meeting mine.
But then they do, and the resulting chill is enough to drive me back from the paddock altogether. Wrapping my arms around my torso, I turn and spot the lone figure lingering on the path, her gaze wary and watchful over the trio behind me.
Sighing, I advance toward her, forcing a neutral smile. “Hey!”
“Hey,” Francesca replies, though she barely takes her eyes off her sister to greet me. Both enemy subjects are dressed warmly—Ainsley in a pink sweater and jeans, Francesca in a black woolen dress and jacket. Her dark hair frames her face, hanging down her shoulders.
“I’m glad you came over,” I say, genuinely pleased for Magda.
Francesca’s lips part into a small grin. “It’s good for Ains to play with someone her own age. Someone other than her brother Eric, at least. And I could use a break from the fighting.”
“I hear you on that,” I murmur, glancing over my shoulder. Even while outnumbered, Vadim maintains his trademark charm. Always the master manipulator, he has the girls spellbound, teaching them various parts of the horse mingled with jokes and exaggerated expressions that have them giggling.
“Cover your mouth, Ains!” Francesca calls as the girl sneezes mid-cackle. Then she turns to me, and something in my expression must trigger her alarm. “Sorry. I think she may be coming down with a cold… Are you okay? This isn’t a bad time—”
“No, of course not!” I make my grin wider, playing up my own social charms. “How about we let the girls play and have our own playdate? I have the best wine—” I eye her warily with what I hope passes for a friendly chuckle. “You are twenty-one, right?”
“I don’t really drink…” Her gaze strays again to her sister. Is she worried about Vadim?
With an awkward bit of guilt, I remember the whole tiny detail about him having kidnapped Ainsley once upon a time.
“Right,” I say nervously. “Well, we could just hang around, and—”
“No.” Francesca shakes her head, forcing a heavy sigh. “No, you’re right. A glass of wine sounds great.”
“Good!” I’m so relieved, I sway. “I could use a bit of adult time, to be honest.”
At least time with an adult who isn’t intent on consuming me, body, and soul.
