Page 1 of Conquer
Chapter One
Insecurity thrives on doubt—but it doesn’t help when reality reinforces every last one of those petty fears. Like when your new lover’s ex-whatever-she-is-to-him comes back from the proverbial grave. It’s easy to write off the concerns as paranoia at first, until the truth is staring you in the face, and there is no escaping it.
Knowing that Vadim had another woman in his life, no matter how he characterized her, scares me for reasons well beyond the obvious jealousy. Mainly because whenever I dare to picture such a woman…
One small consolation was that the mythical figure I’d conjured up seemed so unrealistic in my head, a part of me was convinced she couldn’t possibly exist. She’s alwaysbeyondbeautiful—shehad to be in order to become swept within the orbit of someone like him.
But here she is, in the flesh, and my self-deprecating fantasies didn’t even do her justice.Irina.Tall and slender, her long, curling blond hair ends at her waist, and her beautiful features convey poise and confidence—high cheekbones, perfect pouty lips, and a figure to die for.
I self-consciously run my fingers over the skirt of my outfit, trying and failing to maintain my fake smile. My first thought is that she didn’t come dressed to impress her daughter. A tight-fitting navy dress exposes a wealth of cleavage, clinging to her narrow hips, hugging every curve not shrouded by her tailored black jacket. I can’t help but picture her with the man standing before me, their hands entwined…
And they look fucking perfect, despite the fact that Vadim is still wearing a pair of sweats, rumpled from riding.
My only consolation is an entirely selfish realization—she and Magda could be strangers for all the similarities they share. The latter is a damn near carbon copy of her father with his delicate bone structure, for one—even her expressions seem to mirror his. It could be safely assumed that Irina might not be related to her at all, save for their eyes.
Vadim had called it himself—those eyes.Ice-cold blue, their twin gazes tether them together more strongly than any one feature of his. And I hate myself for being so bothered by that fact.
Awkwardly, I linger at the back of the foyer while Vadim blocks the doorway, frozen solid. Some genuine sympathy creeps in, gnawing away at my nerves. For all of my selfish reservations, this woman has one title I can’t deny—a mother. Who am I to blame her for coming to see her child, even if it’s out of the gosh darn blue?
Channeling my own mother, I force a polite smile and try to meet her gaze. “Hello—”
“It’s been a long time,” Irina says softly without looking my way once. Her voice is lilting, tinged with a heavy accent I can’t place—but I’m too distracted by where her gaze is focused to really give a damn. The way she eyes the man standing between us…
There is a word to describe it, I think. That longing, desperate expression.
If my brain weren’t on red alert with dread, I’d be able to come up with the right description. Maybeownership? That would certainly explain why my cheeks catch fire, and I sense my chin tilt defensively into the air. Stepping forward, I slip my hand into Vadim’s—not jealously. Just… Reassuringly. A silent way to reinforce that I’m here on this battlefield with him.
Because, I sense, this very much is a battle.
Irina herself imparts the first warning shot as her gaze finally settles over me. Only my time with Magda helps me interpret the icy shift in those unsettlingly blue irises.Annoyance.
“I was hoping we could speak in private.” Her gaze lowers to our clasped hands and Vadim’s flex, gripping mine almost to the point of pain—but just as quickly, the tension loosens.
“Tiffany…” From this angle, I can’t see his face. I don’t need to in order to picture his expression. Haunting, dark eyes implicitly closed off. Before I know it, his wall goes up, solid stone against me—and that realization stings. Almost as much as the act of him slipping his hand from mine does. “Why don’t you go for a walk?” he suggests without turning around.
Hurt sears through my chest a split second before my ears perk up, catching the subtle, deliberate inflection in his voice.Walk.In this context, that clearly means something else when paired with how his gaze flicks toward the kitchen—and the tiny, helpless figure still there, oblivious to our visitor’s arrival.
“Okay.” With difficulty, I turn away, sensing Irina enter the house—her presence isthatoverwhelming. Cloying rose-scented perfume itches my nostrils as her voice taunts me, a low hum.
“I’ve missed you, my Dima,” she tells him in a way that makes my chest constrict. “God, how I’ve missed you…”
Only sheer pride prevents me from turning back to see their reunion unfold. Determined, I make it into the kitchen, and there I spot the true target of my so-called “walk.” Instantly my priorities shift, and I bite back any lingering unease.
“You okay, honey?”
Magda watches me from the very back of the space, her arms crossed, her gaze wary. A tiny pang of panic makes me falter and brace my hand against the nearest counter. Did she see Irina? Hear her? Recognize her? If she has, I doubt even my mother’s skills of social navigation will help me much in this instance…
“Is it the man?” she asks. In response to my raised eyebrow, she adds, “The big, scary man.” Her tone strives to convey bravery. If only her eyes weren’t bug-wide, her jaw clenched.
But at least her assumption is so far off base, I doubt she knows our visitor’s true identity. Though, as for a big, scary man…Maxim?Forcing a smile, I shake my head. “No, honey. Just boring adult business. How about we go for a walk?”
“A walk?” she parrots suspiciously, her arms still crossed.
“Yes. I bet it’s lovely out.” I stroll boldly through the sliding glass door leading to the terrace and promptly feel my plan change on the fly once I realize that it’s pitch-black dark outside.
“So…no walk,” I confess. As my eyes scan the brightly lit terrace, they fall over one promising diversion, however. “What about a swim?”
“Now?”
