Page 36 of Conquer
“You asked me how I got in,” Irina says, rising to her feet. With enviable grace, she smooths her hands down her front, drawing attention to her ample curves and tiny waist. Deliberately, I suspect—and just as she intends, I brush my hand along my simple dress skirt, mentally comparing the contrasting picture we must make.
As if aware of the thought, she smiles. “I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out.”
I flinch. “I’m guessing it wasn’t with the permission of security.”
Though she looks so slender in comparison to Ena’s bulk, could she have incapacitated the bodyguard somehow? My stomach twists into knots at the thought—as surly as he can be, Vadim wouldn’t want him hurt.
Neither do I.
“Security,” Irina parrots, purring the word. “As in Boris Ena. Trust Vadim to draw the iciest, most ruthless bastard of the lot to his side. Luckily for me, I remember his…blind spots.”
She winks, her eyelids lowered. At the back of my mind, I recognize the expression as a cruel imitation of one of Magda’s. Her surly, brooding look when she’s mulling over how to get her way during a round of monopoly. The second I see it, I know she’s already won.
And I back up another hasty step. “Did you hurt him?”
She shrugs as her eyes scan the room while her body languidly approaches the counter. Frowning, she swipes her finger over the polished surface, scowling at imaginary dust. “I don’t have to hurt him,” she says, her voice alarmingly soft. “Just outsmart him. And you insinuated permission, I’m assuming. Well, there you have it—” She spreads her arms wide as if to exclaim,“ta da!”In the process, a whiff of her perfume teases my nose, the deceptively sweet scent of roses. “Vadim knows better than anyone my skills of evasion,” she boasts. “Take his hiding behind such lax ‘security’ as proof that he knew I’d return. He all but asked me to.”
I back up another step as she slips onto a stool. With my hand extended behind me, I finally manage to grasp the handle of a drawer. Yanking it open, I feel through the assorted cutlery, finding nothing useful. Forks…spoons—no knives.
“You’re saying Vadim invited you here?” I ask, desperate to feign nonchalance.
Her expression flattens, her gaze clouding over. “You’re mouthier than I’d assume he could tolerate.” Only a subtle, harsh note of inflection reveals her anger.
And yet it’s as bracing as touching a hot stove—every nerve prickles with awareness, warning that I’m in danger of being burned.
“Are you here for Magda, then?” I ask, mainly to keep her talking as I inch back another step, feeling the edge of the drawer brush my lower back.
But if I’d wanted to distract her, I’ve succeeded. She scoffs. “Magdalene? Magdalene is…flawed.” She flicks her fingers as if swatting the mere idea of the girl away. “I can give Dima other children. Perfect children. But can you?”
I’m too stunned by her words—and their disturbing implications—that I barely notice her slip around the counter, her gaze fixated on me. And then my brain finally processes her insult and the sheer, cruel accuracy with which it was aimed.
“Tiffany Connors,” she says as crisply as if reciting from a book. “Your gynecologist has quite the extensive record on you. Endometriosis. Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome. The occasional hormone imbalances. Even if you weren’t on birth control, Dima could fuck you raw for a month, and you still wouldn’t conceive, would you?”
Fire sears my cheeks. I blink, too startled to move, even as she slinks closer, her smile knowing.
“And I’m sure he has been fucking you.” She reaches out, swiping the tip of her nail along my cheek.
I recoil so violently I wind up slamming the drawer over my wrist. Only gritting my teeth can keep me from crying out. “D-Don’t touch me—”
“Touchyou. Have you ever asked yourself why Vadim can? Why he does?” Her smile is feral, her eyes glittering in the shadow cast by the light falling onto her face from this angle. “It doesn’t come naturally to him, but you know that. He’s pretending, winding you up, his little toy. He’ll watch you spin and spin until you serve your purpose. He’s always been that way. Cruel. I suppose it explains why he’s gotten as far as he has. Amassed the empire he has. I doubt you even know the true extent of it…” Her tone shifts as she glances down, her teeth clenched.
“What do you mean?” I ask, tentatively licking my lips.
She cackles. “You don’t, do you? My resourceful boy’s all grown up, but I’ll admit that he’s turned out far more ruthless than I could imagine. Though considering who his mentor was, how could he not?”
Mentor? Hiram, the man who rescued him?
“What are you saying?”
“Oh, darling…” Her eyes gleam with mock pity. “Have you ever stopped to ask yourself how a man his age could amass such a fortune so quickly? Especially given his lack of…let’s call it a traditional upbringing. Has he told you of his family? Their legacy? Don’t tell me you are so naïve to believe he could rise above it all unscathed?”
Denying her is my first instinct. I even start to, my lips parting. But something stops me, and another question forms on my tongue instead. “Why do you care? If he is toying with me? If you don’t want Magdalene, then why are you here?”
“Why?” She chuckles, and leans back against the island, her hair spilling down her shoulders, her body positioned provocatively. “Because after more than ten damn years, my Dima has finally grown bored of waiting for me,” she declares. “He isprovokingme. Drawing me out the way he knew how to all along.” She traces her bottom lip with the wet tip of her tongue, her gaze distant. “By daring to pretend I don’t exist. By replacing me with puppets.”
She rights herself, pushing past me for the foyer. “But I will remind him soon enough. This was always a game, my darling. You’re just a pawn in it...”
Her steps fade, and I crane my neck to watch her vanish around the corner.Damn.I’m shaking, my knees buckling, my wrist throbbing as I wrench it from the painful clutches of the drawer.
