Page 48 of Corrupt: XXX Vadim 2
She sits forward so suddenly the boat jolts beneath us. “Look!” She points to a spot along the left-hand beach. There, up on a ridge, appears a little white pony with a flowing mane. Riding him is a small girl with blond hair streaming from an ebony riding helmet. Spotting us, she waves, and to my surprise, Magda offers up a tentative one in return.
“It looks like you might have a friend to play with after all,” I blurt. Only to feel the color drain from my face as a woman appears beside the girl, holding the pony’s reins. She’s slender, with long brunette hair, but even from this distance, I recognize her instantly.
Maxim’s fiancée.
Ena too must sense the property he’s unintentionally strayed into. Grunting with the effort, he immediately begins to turn the boat around.
“Can I play with her?” Magda tugs on my arm, and I can tell from her surly expression that she doesn’t like to beg. Because that’s what she’s doing—begging. “Huh? Do you know where she lives? I bet I can find it!” She starts counting on her fingers, her lips moving wordlessly.
“Oh, honey…” I tuck a curl behind her ear, wrestling with indecision. In the end, my feelings match Ena’s. “Let’s go get some lunch, huh?”
Magda’s frown returns, lasting the entire trip back to the house. When we enter the kitchen, I do my best to feign supreme excitement in finding something to eat amongst Ena’s prepared meals. “How about some pizza, hmm?”
I fish out the meal and pop it in the oven while she watches me from the counter.
“Can I go wait upstairs until it’s ready?” she asks.
I nod, relieved to leave the topic of our possible neighbors behind. “Go ahead. I’ll get you when it’s ready.”
She scampers off while I set the table and fish some fresh orange juice from the fridge. Ena must stock it regularly, maintaining a methodical sense of order with just a few bare things he needs to keep Vadim, and now Magdalene, alive. It’s such a contrast from my old fridge in the home I shared with Jim, when I had it stuffed with failed attempts at baking and cooking. All because he insisted I play the role of the perfect housewife.
He’d scoff in disgust if I ever had the nerve to serve him a previously frozen meal. The thought makes me frown. It’s been at least a few days since I’ve thought of him. Why now? In an effort to distract myself, I rearrange one of the cupboards, moving around Vadim’s already neatly composed collection of glass dishes. Then I grab the food from the oven and head upstairs to get Magda.
“Come and eat, it smells divine…” I push open her door only to find her room empty. So is her bathroom and the closet, and she isn’t in the hallway. “Magda?” I check the master bedroom but don’t find her there either. Returning downstairs, I scan the kitchen and the living room only to come up short.
My heart is starting to race, my palms slick with sweat. A barrage of worst-case scenarios crosses my mind as I race out onto the terrace and check the pool. Thank God, she’s not there, but neither is she anywhere within view. A harsher sense of dread thickens my throat as I run to the dock. I’m almost too horrified to scan the water at first.
But…
The boats are still here, as are the lifejackets left inside the one we took out. I don’t see any sign of a tiny body floating on the water. I’m so relieved that I have to bend over, bracing my hands over my knees. And then I hear it—faint, soft laughter, riding a gust of wind.
Out here with little noise on the property, sound travels far. Blindly, I plunge beneath the trees, following the laughter through brambles and faded trails for what feels like an eternity.
“Magda?” My heart is a constant hammering pulse by now. I feel like I might vomit, and a call to 911 is my next course of action until I spot a tiny flash of scarlet between two trees. “Magda!”
I throw myself into the underbrush and crash out on the other side.
“Oh, thank God!”
Magdalene stands just a few paces away, her red dress wrinkled, her shoes muddied. Otherwise, she looks none too worse for wear—as does the blond girl standing beside her. Both watch me, wide-eyed in a way that makes me question my own appearance. I’m panting, my skin slick with sweat.
“Sweetie, don’t you ever take off like that again! I was worried sick! And I’m sure your mother is worried about you too,” I tell the girl.
Magda shrugs, her tiny lips pursing. “Can I visit her pony?” she asks. After a moment’s hesitation, she adds, “Please?”
“Yeah!” The little girl pitches in. She’s beautiful—the blond equivalent to Magda’s dark-haired visage. Her tiny riding habit is secured by a bright pink ribbon, the fabric every bit as expensive as the one Vadim bought Magda. Something tells me that despite their feud, the two brothers share the same inclination when it comes to spoiling the children under their protection. “My house is right over there,” the girl adds, pointing through the woods. “We can play whenever we want!”
“Ainsley!” In a scene that I assume must mirror my appearance just seconds ago, a woman staggers from a copse of trees. “Don’t you ever run off like that. I—” She breaks off, her brown eyes flitting in my direction.
Again, I’m struck by just how young she is. Especially when paired with a man like Maxim, who—while no old man by any means—is certainly far older. And stronger. And bigger. I’m so lost in the mental comparisons that I barely notice when she speaks.
“Ainsley, come back to the house.”
“And we should be leaving too.” I step forward and take Magda’s hand. Surprisingly, she doesn’t resist.
Instead, she turns her eyes on me, deploying an as of yet unseen ability—puppy dog eyes brimming with as much intensity as her trademark icy glare.
“Can she come over to play? And see my pony? …please?”
