3
Kira dressed carefully the next morning, but for the first time, it wasn’t in an effort to impress her husband. No, it was his mother she thought about as she studied her wardrobe, looking for something that would indicate style without seeming like she was trying too hard.
She knew instinctively that trying to impress the other woman — outwardly anyway — would be a mistake.
That it would be seen as weakness.
The knowledge had been conveyed in Aksana’s piercing gaze. Its predatory nature reminded Kira of Lyon, except Aksana was looking for weakness while Lyon always looked like he wanted to eat Kira whole.
Warmth flooded her sex at the thought of him, along with a healthy dose of frustration. He hadn’t come to her suite last night, and she’d spent a fitful night alternating between musings about her mother-in-law and the carnal urges of her body, now accustomed to being satisfied during Lyon’s nightly visits.
It was the only time she was permitted to feel close to her husband, the only time he seemed to lower the barriers that had been erected between them in the wake of her flight from Chicago, and she was more than happy to lose herself in his strong arms, his mouth between her thighs, his cock inside her.
She’d missed him last night, and she couldn’t help wondering how his mother would affect their already tenuous and confusing relationship.
She sighed and chose a slim white skirt, pairing it with her favorite green blouse and a pair of Gucci flats, then added a light coat of makeup.
She blew her hair into waves, then studied her reflection in the mirror, wondering if she would meet with Aksana’s approval, wondering if it mattered. The other woman clearly had style, but Kira hadn’t been imagining the frosty reception she’d received from Lyon. Kira had hoped to ask Lyon about it when they were alone, but she’d never gotten the chance. They’d eaten a light dinner of seared ahi and fresh greens while engaging in stilted conversation about Aksana’s journey to Chicago before they retired to their separate quarters.
Her stomach twisted at the thought of Aksana as their indefinite houseguest, but it couldn’t be helped. What else could Kira do but invite Aksana to stay when she’d mentioned returning to her suite at the Waldorf?
Satisfied with her appearance, she walked to the large birdcage that sat against one wall of her bedroom and opened the small door. Dimitri immediately flew into the room, his violet-blue feathers catching the light of the morning sun streaming through the big windows in Kira’s room.
“Privet! Privet!” he called as he landed on the coffee table.
“Yes, hello to you too.” She reached inside to pet the teal feathers on the other bird’s neck, murmuring to the Odette. “Isn’t he a rascal?”
She spent a few minutes refilling their food and water, ushered Dimitri back into the elaborate cage, and shut the door. Then she headed for the hall, bracing herself for the day ahead. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t know what it would bring, had no idea how Aksana’s presence would alter the energy in the house or what it meant that she’d come so far unannounced.
Kira slowed her pace as she passed Lyon’s door but ignored the temptation to knock. She’d missed him last night, but their relationship was still on shaky ground. Was it the simple business arrangement to which they’d first agreed? Was it the affection that had been building between them before her father’s death?
She didn’t know. Something in between, she guessed.
He didn’t trust her not to betray him again, and if the truth was told, she didn’t entirely trust him either. She’d given him an excuse not to honor the arrangement with her father, an arrangement that had promised Kira a voice in the running of the bratva as a way to continue the Baranov legacy.
She’d come to care for her husband, but that didn’t mean her earlier ambitions had disappeared. She wanted the power that had been promised to her, and she intended to have it.
She was halfway down the stairs when she spotted Aksana, sitting at the table in front of the windows overlooking the lake.
Kira drew in a breath and forced a smile on her face as she stepped off the last step and walked toward her mother-in-law.
“Good morning,” she said.
Aksana, already impeccably dressed in a navy Chanel pantsuit, looked Kira over from head to toe. She blinked slowly before her gaze flickered away from Kira, as if Kira were no more interesting than an ant. “Good morning.”
Someone’s not a morning person.