Claim

7

Kira walked through the doors of Slate, a home design store downtown, and let her gaze travel over the sofas, end tables, and other assorted furnishings on the showroom floor.

She spotted Annie sitting on a sleek ivory sofa and lifted an arm in greeting.

Annie smiled and waved back and Kira’s mood lifted. Annie had that way about her, and Kira was constantly glad for the brunch she’d orchestrated for the bratva wives when she’d first married Lyon. It was the first time she and Annie had talked at length, and Kira had a feeling even then that they would become fast friends.

“Good morning.” A trim man in a blue suit came toward her from one of the small aisles weaving through the store’s offerings. “May I help you?”’

“I’m Kira Antonov.” She still felt a thrill when she said it. She was Lyon’s wife. Had she grown glad of it? She was relieved she didn’t have time to think about the answer. “I have an appointment.”

“Ah, yes,” the man said, extending a hand. She caught the slight German accent in his words. “I’m Johan. Can I offer you something to drink?”

Slate was an upscale store offering the finest names in furniture and decor, but Kira wasn’t looking to be waited on hand and foot. “No, thank you. I think I’ll just wander a bit with my friend.”

He gave her a small nod. “Of course. Please let me know if I can be of assistance.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

She made her way down the main aisle of the store, then cut over to Annie.

“This place!” Annie said before Kira had even reached her. “Heaven!”

Her dark hair gleamed under the showroom’s bright lights, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. Kira envied her curves, which spilled ripely from a floral wrap dress that brought out the pink in her cheeks.

“Another water?” Johan called from the aisle with a wide smile.

He was, of course, looking at Annie, who had some kind of magic sway over men of all ages. Straight, gay, or otherwise, men adored Annie, and Kira had gotten used to watching them stop to converse with her, a pastime Annie relished. They flirted with her constantly, regardless of whether they were bashful fourteen-year-olds or ninety-year-old men.

“No, thank you, Johan! I’m just enjoying this divine sofa,” Annie said as she sank back into the pillows. “I think I’ll just live here.”

Johan beamed. “You are welcome anytime.”

Kira rolled her eyes with a laugh and dropped onto the sofa next to Annie.

“Oh, Annie, you’re so very beautiful,” she cooed to her friend. “Can I serve you water, champagne? How about a first-class ticket to Paris?”

Annie laughed and swatted Kira’s arm. “Oh you!”

“You know I’m right,” Kira said. “One day I want you to ask a stranger for something outlandish so I can prove my point when he offers you the world without a blink.”

“Well, if I manage such a feat, it will only be to keep up with you, who has actually secured the world from a man no other woman could tame,” Annie said with a grin.

“Oh, the Lion is far from tamed, I assure you.” She hadn’t meant to let the hint of innuendo creep into her voice. She and Annie had become close, but Kira was still the pakhan’s wife.

Discretion was important.

“Oh, really…” Annie dragged out the last word as she lifted her eyebrows. “Do tell.”

“Maybe some other time,” Kira said, rising to her feet. “Come on, I need to find a sofa, and this one is too… white.”

Annie’s laughter wound through the showroom. “Party pooper.”

They wandered the aisles and discussed the merits of various lamps, side tables, and decorative accessories, but most of it left Kira cold. The house she’d grown up in had been warm and welcoming, the furniture old and polished to a shine, the art collected over her parents’ lifetimes and the lifetimes of their ancestors from Russia.

She still owned the house — she had been her father’s sole heir — but she had no idea what to do with it. It wouldn’t be fair to ask Lyon to live there. It was a shrine to the past, to her past, and she wanted to build something for Lyon, for their child, and hopefully, for the other children that would come.

She wanted something that was theirs alone, but she wanted the same quality of comfort that had existed in her childhood home, and none of the furniture at Slate fit the bill.

“Wait a minute,” Annie said, heading for the back of the store.

Kira followed her friend around a series of vignettes and came to a stop in front of a velvet sectional upholstered in deep emerald. “This is…” Kira stood back to get a better look, hardly daring to believe it. “This is beautiful.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Annie flopped onto one side and lay back with her head on the armrest. “Take the other side. See how it feels.”

Kira sat on the other end of the couch and scooted back. It was perfect, firm but soft, with enough depth that she could imagine sinking into it with a good book but not so much that her feet didn’t touch the ground.

“I think I like this one,” Kira said. It was modern but not sleek, and she could easily imagine it in the music room set against the new wallpaper.

“You have to lay back,” Annie said, tucking her hands behind her head, “to see if it will be comfortable for a nap.”

Kira laughed and followed suit, leaning back against the armrest on her side of the sofa. A sigh escaped her mouth as she closed her eyes.

“Nice, right?” Annie said.

“So nice.” Kira imagined lounging on the sofa on a Sunday afternoon, Lyon’s heart beating under her chest, the Tribune scattered around them.

“I wonder if I might offer you ladies some cookies,” Johan said, jolting Kira from her reverie.