Page 44 of Corrupt: XXX Vadim 2
Chapter Fourteen
An hour later, I realize that, though untested in the ways of Monopoly they may be, both Vadim and Magda are fearsome opponents. I wind up going bankrupt early on, and the game quickly shapes up to be a brutal war between their two growing fictional conglomerates.
“I think you’re a sore loser,” Vadim remarks in response to my pouting. In the same breath, he completes his purchase of yet another block of hotels, extending the reach of his empire.
“Am not,” I hiss in indignation while fulfilling my new role as banker. “I’m just hoping that Magda kicks your butt and keeps your ego firmly in check.”
As if to rise to the challenge, Magda promptly proceeds to buy out an entire strip. I’m so impressed I ruffle her curls and beam at Vadim. “Long may she reign! Can you defeat the queen?”
What unfolds next is a long, hard-fought battle, but in the end, Vadim concedes with a groan while I shower Magda in a flurry of paper money. Her tiny lips twitch, resisting a smile that gradually unfurls despite her best attempts to squash it. And her pride only seems to grow as Vadim stands and bows to her grandly.
“Your majesty.” He extends his hand to her. After a brief moment of hesitation, she places her small fingers over his, allowing him to help her stand on her chair while we continue to shower her with accolades.
“What do you wish to claim as your prize?” Vadim asks her, his eyes gleaming.
Magda doesn’t seem to need even a second to think it over. “Can you teach me to ride my pony tomorrow?”
If possible, Vadim’s eyes glow, brimming with hope. “As you wish.”
It’s a moment so real, so very genuine. I don’t think my heart can contain it, and I start to play that dangerous game. Wishing. For more. For him. Them. This.
Stop it, Tiffy.
My only hope is that something happens to shatter this moment before it becomes too potent to ignore. But in a cruel twist of fate—coming in the form of advancing footsteps—I get my wish tenfold.
Vadim reacts first, his expression darkening as I turn to find Ena marching into the kitchen with a taller figure in tow.
“Mr. Hood,” he announces gruffly. “He come. Already cleared.”
Apparently, Milton doesn’t require the same security reserved for Maxim. His expression wary, the British man steps forward, dressed in a gunmetal-gray suit and a blood-red tie. His dark eyes go directly to Magda, widening as he takes her in.
But she pales and nearly falls off the chair in her scramble to get down. She winds up jumping, but rather than onto the floor, she flings herself at Vadim, who catches her seemingly by instinct, holding her close.
She copies the same stance she took in the presence of Maxim—her face buried against his shoulder, her knuckles white as she grips him tightly.
But this time, Vadim strokes her back with a sigh. “It’s okay,machérie. This is…Uncle Milton.” His voice conveys nothing but soothing warmth though his eyes tell a different tale. He looks like a man who came close to claiming a pile of gold, only to have it slip through his grasp at the last minute. And he eyes Milton as though he’s the force that made said fortune vanish.
Unperturbed, the other man boldly steps forward. Almost before my eyes, it’s as though he transforms, softening the harder, angular stance of his rigid posture for a softer, friendly appearance. Even I’m fooled, almost forgetting the imposing figure he so regularly presents as. Smiling warmly, he says, “You must be Magdalene. I’m a friend of your… Mr. Vadim’s.”
Sensing the danger has passed, Magda squirms from Vadim’s arms and scrambles away from him, her cheeks pink. She eyes Milton warily but doesn’t move to take the hand he extends her way.
Without missing a beat, he uses the same hand to reach into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and withdraws an enormous lollipop even the surliest child couldn’t resist. Case and point, Magda steps forward, and he crouches on one knee and presents his offering to her.
“Sugar-free, of course,” Milton declares, glancing at Vadim.
Magda takes it and eagerly rips off the wrapping, before taking a tentative lick. Her eyes practically light up even as she takes a step back from him. I watch in awe as she reaches out with her free hand, finding Vadim’s pantleg. Their expressions mirror each other’s for a split second—hers irritated by her seemingly overwhelming need to cling to him, while he seems overwhelmed all at once.
Rising to his feet, Milton maintains his polite, charming smile, but when his eyes meet Vadim’s, something unspoken flashes between them. It’s like I can sense the atmosphere shift in an instant.
“It was very nice to meet you, Magdalene,” Milton says. “But right now, I’d like to borrow Vadim for a minute.”
Vadim glances at Magda, and I can see the internal struggle as he wrestles with leaving her. But then he cuts his gaze to the other man. Again, some understanding flashes between them and his jaw clenches. Sighing, he captures the hand Magdalene has on his pant leg, and I can tell that nothing in the world pains him more than having to ease her away.
“I’ll be back,” he swears, stepping forward. “And I will bring you a reward fit for a conquering queen.”
Whether the promise mollifies Magda or not, I can’t tell. She’s utterly stoic, watching as the two men head toward the study. I skip toward her, and I can’t resist tugging on a dark curl even though she wrinkles her nose and turns away.
“Help me clean up, oh majesty?” I ask her before eyeing the fortune of fake money scattered over the floor.
