But weddings can’t be faked as easily as marriages can.
“Tiffany,” Magda says after a bite of cereal. “Can we play Monopoly?”
“Yes, honey,” I reply absently as I return to the counter and grab myself a croissant from Ena’s customary breakfast basket.
“And can we go see my pony?”
“Yes, honey.”
“And can we go in the boat?”
I frown at the prospect. “Only if Mr. Ena agrees to take us.”
“I can take you,” Vadim pitches in, his tone cautious. I glance over my shoulder and discover that his wariness is for a good reason. Magda’s pleasant expression promptly sours.
“I don’t want to go on the boat anymore,” she declares, her tone an icy imitation of his cruelest drawl. Embodying his standoffish talent, she pushes back from the table and grabs It by his head, letting him dangle from her hand as she marches from the kitchen, presumably upstairs.
“Give her time,” I warn him. Sure enough, when I turn around, he’s frowning, his gaze distant.
“How could I be so foolish?”
“You were still worried about her,” I point out. “She’ll get over it. And…” I weigh my next words carefully and decide that they’re relevant. “If you let her play with Ainsley again, she’ll forgive you a lot faster.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting bribery?”
I shrug and hold up my hands defensively. “What you call bribery, I call ‘attending to her needs.’ She’s lonely. What will a little playdate hurt?”
“Try telling that to Maxim,” he counters gruffly. “I’m sure he’s convinced himself that I am Magdalene, playing dress-up in a child suit by now.”
I have to snort at that, seriousness aside. “Save your feud with your brother for another day. As for now, give Magda time. You can start with not letting her scare you off. Take us on the water today.”
“Will I be rewarded for being a good captain?” he wonders, his voice husky.
My cheeks catch fire, and it takes everything I have not to retort with something equally suggestive. “No sex talk around innocent ears,” I warn, waggling my finger. “And we really need to come up with some kind of schedule or safe word if Magda is in the house. I’d rather not be startled awake in post-coital bliss by a seven-year-old again.”
“Point taken. You go grab her, and I’ll get the boat ready.”
Vadim has an expert poker face when he wants to. His invisible wall can seem insurmountable, and I never want to taste a fraction of the wrath he directs Maxim’s way.
Magda inherited all of his skills of icy brooding and then some.
She scowls during the entire boat ride, letting her guise slack only in the rare moments when she thinks no one is watching. Only then does awe peek through her icy exterior, triggered by some aspect of the scenery or another. The property itself really is beautiful—a paradise nestled in the shadow of the sprawling metropolis that is Fair Haven. There are so many ways for Vadim to enhance the place, creating an oasis for Magda to thrive in.
That is, if she’ll let him.
She maintains her stony silence when we return to the house for dinner. When I grab the Monopoly box, she crosses her arms and storms upstairs once it’s clear that Vadim plans to participate.
“I’ll go get her,” I volunteer with a sigh. But Vadim rises to his feet, passing me.
“No. I will.”
I swallow hard and follow him up to her room. She’s stewing on the bed, and her glare darkens when she sees him.
“We should talk,” he says, sitting on the edge of her bed. “I’m sorry I disappointed you. I promised you I would take you riding. I should have upheld that promise. You have every right to be upset with me.”
“Why?” Magda demands. I flinch at the venom in her tone.
“Because I want you to trust me,” Vadim says firmly.
“Trust you?” she scoffs, her tiny body radiating with increasing fury. “I hate you!”
“Magda!” I step forward, but Vadim raises his hand, and I stop short.
“Why?” he asks. “You have every right to hate me, but I would like to know why.” His tone is so unnervingly gentle. She can’t resist it.
“Why? Because you’re a liar!” She lurches to her feet. Even while standing on the bed, she barely manages to tower above him. “I’m not stupid!” she shrieks, her voice losing any aspect of maturity. In this moment, she is all of seven. A hurt, brooding, wounded seven.
“I’m not stupid! I’m not!” She brandishes It by his floppy head, his body jerking wildly.
“Of course, you’re not,” Vadim murmurs. “I know that—”
“No, you don’t!” She grasps It’s body in one hand and brutally rips off his head with the other. The violence is tempered only by the tears spilling down her cheeks. She throws the bear’s head aside and plunges her hand into its limp body—but rather than stuffing, she withdraws a folded slip of paper. “I know who you are,” she says, sobbing openly. “I know! I saw papers in Mr. Robinson’s office. Money that he got from some stupid company. I googled it, and I saw your picture.” She throws the slip of paper at Vadim.
His fingers shake as he unfurls it, revealing a faded printed photo of him in business attire.
“I waited for you,” Magda snarls, her body heaving, her voice hitching. “I waited and waited and waited! You never came! You left me there! You left me with those people!” She puffs up, her face red, her expression so broken an answering tear falls down my cheek before I can wipe it away. “You didn’t want me,” she wails, pointing at him. “You didn’t want me—”
“I wanted you.” Vadim’s tone is so fierce she falls silent in the face of it, her tiny shoulders slumping. I don’t know who initiates the contact, but the next second, she’s
