Pushing any thoughts of boundaries aside, I make her a bowl of cereal for breakfast and pour her a fresh glass of juice. Then I head upstairs, relieved to find her still in bed.
Perched on the end of her mattress, I run my fingers through her hair until she wakes up. “Time to get the day started, kiddo.”
Rubbing her eyes, she sits up and scuttles to the end of her bed, waiting expectantly. It’s a belated second before I realize why. Following my unspoken cue, I enter her closet and pick out another outfit—a pair of jeans and a lime green sweater. After I braid her hair, she follows me downstairs and eats.
Then she fixes me with another disarmingly vulnerable glance I’m woefully unprepared for. “Can I go play with Ainsley?” Her eyes are so wide I feel swallowed by them, devoured by their openly pleading nature. “Please?”
I fumble for my glass of juice and promptly knock it over. “I… Um, we should wait for Vadim to get back.” I force a grin, but her mouth falls flat in response. From her dour expression, I assume that she feels the same way on that prospect that I do deep down—who knows when that will be?
“I want to play,” she says, folding her hands beside her bowl.
It’s such a simple, plaintive statement that somehow slips through my defenses and cuts deep. Maybe because it’s a different tact from her stoic persona. I’m just as vulnerable to her as I am to Vadim when he lets his true emotions slip through. Helpless.
“I… I’ll be right back.”
My mind spins as I leave the kitchen and head aimlessly for the foyer. Instead of Vadim returning, I find Ena standing guard, his arms crossed as I approach. And a split-second’s decision forms in my brain too quickly to challenge.
“I want to make a deal,” I tell him as he eyes me warily. “And I know you’ll want to refuse it, but hear me out.”
He cocks his head, his frown skeptical. “I listen.”
“Magda wants to play with the little girl next door—” As far as mansions with acres of property go. “And I think she could. And yes, I am talking about Maxim’s daughter.”
Ena’s nostrils flare, and I almost take a step back. He looks liable to hit me, revealing the true depths of his loyalty to Vadim. “No. No—”
“I’ll take all responsibility,” I insist, lifting my hands in a placating gesture. “Or… I’ll tell Vadim that you let her wander onto his property unprotected. I found her there yesterday.”
It’s a low blow. One I would never resort to under different circumstances. Is a playdate even worth it?
No. Ena’s furious expression warns me that making an enemy out of him is the worst possible act I could have taken.
“Look at her,” I demand, trying another tack. “She’s cooped up in a strange house, with strange people. The man who brought her here just disappeared to only God knows where. She’s lonely. All she wants to do is play with a little girl her own age. Are you going to tell her no?”
He squares his jaw, and I have no doubt that he’s capable of doing just that. He takes a step toward her, only to deflate, his shoulders slumping. Whirling on his heel, he jabs a finger at me.
“You take blame,” he insists. “Ena knows nothing. You take girl on your own.”
I sigh in relief. “Thank you—”
“No thank me.” He laughs coldly, his upper lip quirked. But it’s not a smug expression. It’s pitying. “Mr. Vadim kill you.”
And he may, I concede to myself. But not if I kill him first.
“Thank you.” I race past Ena before he can change his mind and approach Magda. Any doubts I may have are instantly dashed when she gazes up at me, her wall lowered a fraction to reveal the little girl underneath.
Screw boundaries. If Vadim wants to leave me with his daughter overnight, then he would cede her to my authority. Gosh, I just hope that trust isn’t misplaced.
“Ready to go on an adventure?” I run upstairs just to grab a jacket from the closet, then I open the door to the terrace and lead her outside. Taking her hand, I let her show me the route she took the other day.
“How did you even know where to go?” I ask, already hopelessly confused by the vast expanse of nature rendering this section of the grounds a virtual wilderness.
“Nautical navigation,” she says, a rare hint of excitement seeping into her voice. She has Biphany clutched under one arm, but curiously it looks like she left It behind.
“Oh,” I say, nodding. “Nautical navigation... Which in English means?”
She giggles in that rare, fleeting way. “Like the pirates used,” she adds in response to my puzzled expression. Lifting her tiny fingers, she points in two opposing directions. “Longitude and latitude—the lines that go on a map like this. Then you use the position of the sun—” she points up above. “And cardinal directions, you know—east, west, north, south. You use those to estimate your position on the axis. Then you just calculate from there. If I assume that we were fifty feet out on the water, then Ainsley lives roughly…” She counts on the fingers of her free hand. “One point seven five miles west of our house. See? It’s easy.” Whatever expression she sees on my face makes her giggle, shaking her head. “It’s basic calculations. Even a baby could do it.”
“Yeah,” I say, almost stunned into silence. “Basic…”
Still grinning, she surges ahead, tugging me behind her, and all I can do is follow, seeing the world as a seven-year-old might. An exceptionally bright seven-year-old who is far too perceptive for her own good. Vadim and Maxim may have a proverbial ocean of emotional distance between them, but a child has no trouble cutting through the physical boundaries. Which isn’t much. Once
