Page 27 of Conquer
Chapter Nine
Ithink my only saving grace when it comes to the potential of my mother murdering me in a fit of rage and burying me out in the garden is that Vadim doesn’t plan on spending the night—thus sparing her the trouble of having to scramble to prepare another guest bedroom. Instead, she whips poor Gwen into a frenzy in her attempt to produce a meal “worthy” of our guests.
The result is a grand affair of roasted chicken, vegetables, and a dessert catered specifically to both Magda and Vadim’s dietary needs. Somehow, Mother manages to arrange all of this while seeming as though meticulously planned meals and priceless, antique cutlery are trivial things someone might pull out as an everyday occurrence. In other words, I’m rendered inadequate, watching a master at work.
She somehow manages to get Vadim to let his guard down in ways that I suspect even he isn’t comfortable with—not intentionally. There’s a softness to his posture I’m not used to glimpsing in the presence of others. He’s still without his suit jacket, having had to change into a spare pair of my father’s slacks after his became coated in muck from the garden.
“Do tell us how you met Tiffany,” my mother instructs as she savors her third glass of wine for the evening. Ruthlessly, she inspects him in between swallows, hunting for any minor flaw to seize upon. “Our dear girl has her charms, but I’m curious as to what might attract someone of your…caliber.” It’s a testament to her skill of social navigation that she somehow manages to make the insult both sting and sound endearing all at once. I’m still not forgiven for the lack of notice, it seems.
“What might attract me?” Vadim laughs, and his eyes take on a soft, faraway gleam I’m sure is one-hundred percent intentional. It has to be. “Your daughter is…”
His gaze finds me, hesitant, and clouded with uncertainty. I can imagine him agonizing over the right words to say. How to say them. In the end, he clearly states, “When I met her, I noticed her instantly—the moment she entered the room, every other man did as well.” That hard note betrays a jealousy only I know the true extent of. An envy that led him to foil any attempt I made to forge a connection with another man. “She nearly slipped past me without a second glance,” he admits. “But, I was determined to earn her attention.”
His tone… His expression.
My throat goes dry, and I grapple for my own wine glass, inhaling the liquid within.
“That’s our Tiffy,” Daddy pitches in with a bellowing laugh. “She can be a whirlwind. Let’s just hope you haven’t gotten a taste of her temper yet. She’s an ace sulker—can hold a grudge for days. But just when you think she’ll hate you forever, she bakes you the most terrible cake you ever did taste as a peace offering. And you know what they say about redheads…”
He winks.
My mother fans herself.
Magda grins mischievously. It doesn’t escape my notice that she managed to wedge herself in between my father and Vadim. Both of them seem intent on “accidentally” slipping extra slices of sugar-free cake onto her plate. I don’t think there’s another little girl alive in danger of being so thoroughly spoiled.
“Whatdothey say about redheads, Harold?” My mother lobbies him with a barely concealed bit of bait.
Bait that he wisely sidesteps with a contrite nod of his head. “That they are beautiful, intelligent creatures worthy of utter worship and devotion, sweetheart,” he says.
Satisfied, she takes a congratulatory sip of wine.
“How long did you say you were planning on staying, Vadim?” she asks a second time. “We would love to have you. Tomorrow, Magdalene is going to model some of Tiffy’s old pageant dresses. As long as I have your permission, she can have as many of them as she’d like. They were all handmade by some of the best designers of the time. I’m sure she’ll look just darling in them.”
“I agree,” Vadim says earnestly. His eyes, however, cut toward me, cautiously guarded. If he’s looking for a clue as to how to reply, I look down at my hands rather than convey an answer either way. Left to scramble for his own response, he says, “But I’m afraid my business may call me away.”
“What is it you do exactly?” Daddy asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’m in investments, myself.”
“I work in pharmaceuticals,” Vadim explains. “Mainly German-based companies. Have you heard of Eingel Industries?”
My father’s eyes widen—he’s impressed. “Heard of it? I have stock in it!” He laughs heartily, smacking his hand on the table. “Damn, it’s been performing like a beauty these past few quarters. Son of a bitch—”
“Harold!” My mother sniffs in disgust.
“It’s one of many entities under my control,” Vadim confesses. “Lately, I will admit that I’ve been trying to take a lighter approach to the business aspect, however, so that I can spend as much time as possible with Magdalene.”
Both of my parents nod in approval, and I sense that we’re nearing a dangerous line that I doubt we ever crossed with Jim. They like him. Theyreallylike him.
God, they like him too much.
And when his voice takes on that deep, disarming rasp, I know I’m royally screwed.
“I want to thank you for your hospitality,” he says. While his voice resonates throughout the room, loud enough for everyone to hear, I feel like it’s directed solely toward me, running down my spine in an ominous thrill of vibration. “For my daughter, especially. I can’t tell you what your kindness means to us both.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, darling.” My mother dabs at her lips with a napkin, her cheeks pink, and my father coughs in that way he does when things become too emotional for his comfort.
“It’s no problem,” he declares, rising from his chair. “How about us three interlopers go sip lemonade and watch the stars while Tiffy and Vadim get reacquainted, huh?”
“Okay!” Magda lurches to her feet, following at his heels while my mother reluctantly rises as well.
