Claim
Kira bit back the comment and continued to the kitchen, where Zoya stood at the sink, her back to Aksana.
“Good morning, Zoya.” Kira kissed the other woman’s papery cheek. “Did you sleep well?”
Zoya grimaced as her gaze slid to Kira, making Kira glad Zoya’s back was turned to Aksana. “Well enough.”
Kira didn’t need the older woman to say more. Zoya couldn’t be happy to have Aksana in her wing of the apartment, and Kira didn’t need time to tell her the two women would never be friendly.
She made herself a cup of coffee and took it to the table. Aksana was in the chair Kira usually occupied, so Kira took Lyon’s chair.
“How was your first night?” Kira asked her mother-in-law. “Do you have everything you need?”
They hadn’t been expecting guests, and Kira only had time to give the suite of rooms a quick look before Rurik had brought Aksana’s belongings from the Waldorf.
“Everything is satisfactory,” Aksana sniffed. “Perhaps some instruction on how to work the television.”
“Of course,” Kira said. “Is there something specific you’d like to have in the house in the way of food? Anything you enjoy having to eat or drink?”
“I think not,” Aksana said. “You have coffee. And vodka. I’m sure I won’t often be eating in.”
“Let me know if you change your mind. I can have Zoya add whatever you need to the shopping list.” She hesitated, trying to frame the next question as politely as possible. “Will you be in Chicago long?”
Aksana pinned her with sharp eyes. “That remains to be seen.”
Lyon’s imposing figure caught Kira’s attention as he emerged from the upstairs hall. Her breath turned shallow as she watched him descend the suspended staircase.
He was an imposing man, a man who still took her breath away.
A man who made her wet with desire even when she found him maddening, which was most of the time.
“Good morning,” he said, walking through the living room toward them.
“Good morning,” Kira said.
He was such a beautiful man. His features were strong but refined, sharp enough to cut glass, and his eyes were ever changing, morphing from deep brown when he was angry to amber when he was hungry for her.
He passed over his mother and bent to kiss Kira’s cheek on his way to the kitchen. It took her by surprise. He wasn’t often affectionate anywhere but the bedroom.
He looked at his mother. “Sleep well, Mother?”
His face was still and unreadable, the way it had been in the early days of their marriage, when Kira had been convinced her new husband was a coldhearted monster.
“Fine,” Aksana said. “Thank you.”
The last two words were tight, as if Askana had to force herself to say something kind to her son, and Kira remembered the photograph she’d found in Lyon’s things, the stern woman, eyes blank and cold, holding Lyon’s little hand.
Had something happened between them? Or had Aksana always been a poor excuse for a mother?
Kira got to her feet and went to work making Lyon’s coffee. Zoya could have done it. Lyon himself could have done it — he wasn’t a man who needed to be waited on hand and foot, but Kira enjoyed doing these small things for him.
It was one of the few times she felt like his wife outside of the bedroom.
Lyon flipped quickly through the paper, skimming the headlines as he always did. It had surprised her at first: Lyon’s intelligence, his voracious curiosity, his ability to retain and use information of any variety to his benefit.
He’d done a good job of hiding his intelligence during the years he’d worked the streets for the bratva, back when it was run by Kira’s father.
He was an excellent chess player.
Kira tightened the lid on one of the travel mugs Lyon favored, knowing he’d want to take it when he left for the day, and slid it toward him.
“Thank you.” He didn’t meet her eyes. “I was thinking we might check the progress at Ludis.”
She tried to hide her surprise. “Today?”
“Now,” he said, looking at her.
She hoped her relief wasn’t obvious. She had plans to meet Annie later in the day and hadn’t been looking forward to spending the morning with her icy mother-in-law. “I can be ready in five minutes.”