“Have a seat,” he says without turning around. “Name your drink preferences, both of you.”
“Wine for me,” I blurt, alarmed as he turns around, his expression blank. Is he still hurt by Magda’s hostility? Yes. I can see the hurt coloring his irises, but he’s smothering that pain for her sake.
Turning his attention to the tiny figure climbing onto a stool beside me, he tentatively asks, “And for you?”
She frowns. “Orange juice.”
“As you wish.” After fulfilling our drink orders, he continues to cook, filling the room with incredible smells, while I attempt to prod what little information I can from Magda.
“What do you like to do with your friends?” I ask in between fortifying sips of wine.
She folds her hands with It perched on one side of her, and Biphany on the other.
“I don’t have friends,” she says. Her surly tone could betray the words as yet another lie meant to provoke, but her eyes tell a different story. A hint of vulnerability creeps through that unnerving blue and something in my heart throbs, rubbed raw. “I don’t need friends,” she adds firmly, rephrasing it.
“What about hobbies?” I ask. “Do you have any of those? Do you like to read? Play games?”
She strokes her chin and nods with sudden seriousness. “I like to plan world domination.” Damn. She utters that declaration without even a hint of mocking inflection.
“Oh, goody!” Feigning nonchalance, I clap my hands together. “Then, to get started on your merry way, you need to beat me at the one game perfect for world domination training.”
She eyes me skeptically. “What game?”
I wink and rise from the table to approach the lone figure slipping in through the glass door leading out to the terrace. Ena eyes me the way I figure one might either a hungry lion advancing toward them or a diseased rodent.
Writing it off for the greater good, I lean near his ear and make one whispered request.
I can’t tell from his surly expression just how he processes it. Finally, he nods. “I be back.”
I watch him scuttle off, utterly pleased with myself. I’m even more pleased by the results Vadim comes up with when he finally leaves the kitchen to adorn the dining table with platters of steaming, amazing looking food.
“Fresh vegetables, salad, and homemade garden burgers,” he declares, indicating each platter with a wave of his hand. “Let’s eat.”
One bite, and I groan in appreciation. “This tastes incredible.”
Even Magda seems impressed enough to endure his physical nearness as she samples a burger with delicate bites. By the time we finish the meal, and Vadim has cleared the table, Ena arrives as if on cue, brandishing my sole request.
Barely suppressing a grin, I rise to my feet and accept what turns out to be a rectangular board game infamous among my family’s gatherings.
“You aim for world domination?” I ask Magda. “Let’s see what you’ve got, kid. Try your hand at the ultimate decider.”
I slam the game board onto the table as Magda and Vadim share puzzled looks.
“Monopoly?” He reads from the gameboard lid as though he’s never played.
And I’m alarmed to realize that he might not have. Neither of them may have.
“You poor innocent fools,” I tell them mournfully. “Prepare to have your butts kicked by the real estate queen.”
Chapter Fourteen
An hour later, I realize that, though untested in the ways of Monopoly they may be, both Vadim and Magda are fearsome opponents. I wind up going bankrupt early on, and the game quickly shapes up to be a brutal war between their two growing fictional conglomerates.
“I think you’re a sore loser,” Vadim remarks in response to my pouting. In the same breath, he completes his purchase of yet another block of hotels, extending the reach of his empire.
“Am not,” I hiss in indignation while fulfilling my new role as banker. “I’m just hoping that Magda kicks your butt and keeps your ego firmly in check.”
As if to rise to the challenge, Magda promptly proceeds to buy out an entire strip. I’m so impressed I ruffle her curls and beam at Vadim. “Long may she reign! Can you defeat the queen?”
What unfolds next is a long, hard-fought battle, but in the end, Vadim concedes with a groan while I shower Magda in a flurry of paper money. Her tiny lips twitch, resisting a smile that gradually unfurls despite her best attempts to squash it. And her pride only seems to grow as Vadim stands and bows to her grandly.
“Your majesty.” He extends his hand to her. After a brief moment of hesitation, she places her small fingers over his, allowing him to help her stand on her chair while we continue to shower her with accolades.
“What do you wish to claim as your prize?” Vadim asks her, his eyes gleaming.
Magda doesn’t seem to need even a second to think it over. “Can you teach me to ride my pony tomorrow?”
If possible, Vadim’s eyes glow, brimming with hope. “As you wish.”
It’s a moment so real, so very genuine. I don’t think my heart can contain it, and I start to play that dangerous game. Wishing. For more. For him. Them. This.
Stop it, Tiffy.
My only hope is that something happens to shatter this moment before it becomes too potent to ignore. But in a cruel twist of fate—coming in the form of advancing footsteps—I get my wish tenfold.
Vadim reacts first, his expression darkening as I turn to find Ena marching into the kitchen with a taller figure in tow.
“Mr. Hood,” he announces gruffly. “He come. Already cleared.”
Apparently, Milton doesn’t require the same security reserved for Maxim. His expression wary, the British man steps forward, dressed in a gunmetal-gray suit and a blood-red tie. His dark eyes go directly to Magda, widening as he takes her in.
But she pales and nearly falls off the chair in her scramble to get down. She winds up jumping, but rather than
