Page 70 of Conquer
Chapter Twenty-One
He wakes up early, rolling away from me without a word. I can tell from the set of his jaw alone not to question. Not to speak. Instead, I watch from the safety of the blankets as he stands and enters the bathroom. Minutes later, he emerges dripping wet, his gaze set in a grim mask of determination.
Lost in his thoughts, he takes his time picking out his suit, and when I finally rise and join him, I find him scouring his selection of hanging ties.
“This one,” I say, stepping forward to gently remove a navy blue one from the rack. I loop it around his neck as he watches me, his gaze so open my toes curl the few times I sneak a glimpse at it directly.
Once he’s fully dressed, I stand on tiptoe and plant a kiss against his pursed lips.
“I’ll be waiting for you when you come back,” I tell him huskily.
Though for what exactly? Those plans seem up in the air as tiny footsteps approach from down the hall, and the door is opened from the outside.
“Can we go swimming today?” Magda asks, still half asleep, her braids crooked, It tucked under one arm.
Vadim chuckles, his expression softening as he takes her in. “As long as it’s not too cold out,” he says, smoothing his hand over one of her braids. His touch lingers, eventually finding her chin—gently, as if giving her every opportunity to pull away. When she doesn’t, he tilts her head back to face him. “You need all the practice you can get if we’re to summer at the beach,oui?”
Her smile is so damn ripe even her stoic nature isn’t enough to suppress it. “Really?”
He nods, drawing his hand away to adjust his collar. “I’m looking into a boat as well. Would you like to fish?”
She eyes him warily and nods, padding after him into the hall. “Can we get a yacht? And have a party on it…”
“A yacht?” Vadim sounds utterly perplexed by the request, and I feel my cheeks flush. Note to self—watch my terminology around the child next time.
I slip into a robe and follow, my lips stretched into a grin as I watch them interact. Once we’ve had breakfast, Vadim leaves, no doubt heading to face a challenge far more intimidating than lounging by the pool.
And I try not to stress over the possibilities of what could happen between him and his brother. Luckily, the sun is shining, and it’s warm enough out that I feel brave enough to risk another shot at swimming lessons.
“What do you say?” I ask my co-pilot, posted beside me, as I wash the dishes. “How about a swim?”
She darts off while I take my time entering the master suite, trying to pick which one of my outfits I’ll sacrifice to the waters of the pool. I’ve barely begun perusing my options when I spot a luxurious black shopping bag I definitely do not remember purchasing myself. Inside, I find not one, but several beautiful, stylish swim sets to choose from.
The bastard even got me a particularly risqué bikini in emerald green.
I’m smiling as I pick a modest navy-blue one-piece for now, and I’ve just managed to get it on when a tiny voice calls from the mouth of the closet. “Are you ready yet?”
I peek out to find that I’m not the only one who found a few presents in her wardrobe. Magda’s fully decked out in a charming yellow one-piece decorated with white polka-dots, complete with a matching set of sunglasses and her fanny pack.
“Hold your horses, sailor-girl,” I tell her playfully. “And you don’t want your phone to get wet. Leave the bag in your room, and go wait for me downstairs. I’ll be there in a second.”
“Five minutes?” she prods, every bit as manipulative as her father.
I relent with a sigh. “Five minutes.”
Within two, I already hear frantic shouting coming from down below.
“I’m coming,” I call out. “Just give me one second.” With a pile of towels slung over my arm, I pad down the stairs. As I round the corner of the kitchen, I call out, “I hope you’re ready to learn how to doggie paddle—”
A piercing scream cuts me off mid-sentence, followed by a monstrous splash. My heart stops. Before I know it, I’m racing onto the terrace. My eyes fixate on the pool—and the tiny figure flailing in the center.
I stop thinking. The next second I’m in the water, diving down just as she slips beneath the surface. Adrenaline and instinct control my limbs, giving me a strength I didn’t know I possessed to grab her in my arms and spring toward the surface.
I gulp at the air, kicking toward the edge of the pool on autopilot as my attention turns to the girl in my arms. She’s quiet. Too quiet.
“Magda!” I spin her around, my thoughts racing as I struggle to recall the first steps of CPR. Two large blue eyes blink up at me, stunned but alert.
I manage to haul her onto the edge of the pool and climb out after her before relief barrels through me like a sucker punch. My hands shake as I stroke the hair from her face, my eyes on her chest. Only when my voice reaches back to me—high pitched and frantic—do I realize that I’ve been speaking to her this whole time.
