Claim

4

Lyon pulled next to the curb outside Ludis, turned off the car, and walked around to open Kira’s door. She’d been quiet on the way across town, which had suited him fine. He had spent the time grappling with his mother’s arrival and how much to say about it to Kira.

Six months earlier, it wouldn’t have been a quandary. Then, he’d come to trust his wife, had even come to think of her as a partner in his takeover of the bratva.

But that was before she’d run, and it was before Musa had used her to get to Lyon.

Now he was loathe to tell her too much. He was all too aware of the danger in trusting her, not because he believed she would betray him with the bratva, but because trusting her with business was the first step to trusting her with his heart.

And that had been his downfall.

But that wasn’t all. Kira had been hurt once because of Lyon, but while Musa was now dead — Lyon had taken his time killing him — Musa hadn’t been working alone. He’d had Ivan’s backing, and Ivan was backed by someone else.

He wouldn’t allow Kira to be hurt again. The less she knew, the better.

The West Town street outside Ludis was quiet, only a few pedestrians walking by on either side of the street. It was still cold, but spring was in the air, the sun shining brightly overhead.

Lyon extended his hand and helped Kira from the car. He caught Rurik’s eye in the Rover parked behind them and knew the other man would stay put, watching the door to the nightclub while Lyon and Kira were inside.

Lyon rarely went anywhere without a guard and driver — usually Markus — but Rurik, Lyon’s most trusted body man, was more or less permanently assigned to protect Kira.

Lyon looked around as they made their way to Ludis’s warped and peeling door. Rurik had no doubt done the same, but it was force of habit for Lyon to do a threat assessment wherever he went, and never more so than now.

“The new doors will be installed next month when the club is finished,” Kira said.

“I look forward to seeing it,” Lyon said.

He’d worried that managing both the house and club renovations would be too much for her, but she seemed to be thriving. He always returned to his own bedroom before sunrise — a pact he’d made with himself not to get too close to her again — and she was already in the kitchen each morning when he arrived, on her way to one or the other of the sites, eager to get to work.

They stepped into the cool, dim interior of the club and were met with the sound of hammering and the smell of fresh sawdust. Two men were installing something behind the bar and only gave Lyon and Kira a glance before resuming their work. Somewhere in the back, an electrical drill hummed.

“Good morning, Ryan,” Kira called to the men behind the bar.

One of the men, tall and broad-shouldered with a beard, gave Kira a grin. “Morning.”

Lyon felt the roar of jealousy. These men spent more waking hours with his wife than Lyon.

Whose fault is that?

The accusing voice in his mind was new but ever present. Kira had been warm if wary with him since he’d made the peace offering of the house in Lake Forest. But while he’d taken her body more times than he could count since then, he’d kept her at an emotional distance, avoiding spending time with her even when it was what he wanted most of all.

“What is it?” Lyon asked, referring to the large piece covered with brown paper being installed over the bar.

“A new mirror,” Kira said. “I considered not replacing it. Mirrors can be so tacky.” He laughed his agreement. “But I think you’ll like this one. It’s made by a company who supplies them to some of the best restaurants and clubs in the world.”

“I’m sure it will be perfect. You have impeccable taste.”

She flushed with the compliment and he cursed himself again. He had little opportunity to compliment her outside of the bedroom.

His fault again.

She walked him through the main room, pointing out things that had been done since his last visit and the things that were on the schedule for the next couple of weeks.

He was caught up in her excitement, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright. This was the woman he’d come to know in the early days of their marriage, when he’d realized his new wife wasn’t the cold, vacuous woman she’d seemed.

And this was the danger. The danger in spending time with her outside the bedroom. There, he could tell himself it was only her body he wanted (liar), that his urges were primal, biological.

Outside the bedroom he was forced to see her for the intelligent, enthusiastic, interesting woman she was, and that was a reckless proposition indeed.

“I’ll show you the office and lounge,” she said when they were done in the main room.

He followed her down the hall leading to the back of the building and looked with puzzlement at the walls and ceiling. “Is this…”

“Wider?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him. She laughed. “Yes, and the ceilings are taller too. I widened the footprint of the hall a little. It was so cramped before. It felt seedy. It only stole a few inches from the rooms on either side — it’s not even noticeable there — but it made a big difference.” She stopped at an open door to one of the back rooms. “Although…”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Although?”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “It was rather expensive.”

He smiled in spite of himself. She was maddeningly appealing. “Irrelevant.”

She returned his smile. “I thought you’d say as much.”