23
Kira sat on the chair in the foyer, her gaze on the elevator. She’d been waiting for Aksana for nearly an hour, and if her mother-in-law’s past behavior was any indication, she would be arriving back at the penthouse any moment.
Kira wondered what she was up to when she was out. Aksana had taken to leaving the penthouse in the morning and returning sometime after lunch. When Kira asked how she’d spent her morning, she made vague references to shopping or having coffee with old friends, but she never returned with shopping bags and Kira couldn’t imagine anyone choosing the company of the old hag.
She was cold and cruel and Kira had had enough.
She’d been angry ever since her last conversation with Aksana. How dare she say Lyon had been hard to love? His own mother! And how dare she say it to Kira, Lyon’s wife, as if she believed Kira too weak, too mild-mannered, to protest.
Kira had fought against the urge to kick her mother-in-law out ever since, remembering Lyon’s counsel to keep their enemies close, but the incident with Jean-Luc had clarified Kira’s decision.
Lyon would do anything for her. Would maim and kill for her.
Would die for her.
She should have been disgusted by his brutality with Jean-Luc, but since she wasn’t in the habit of lying to herself, she’d been forced to acknowledge the thrill that had run up her spine as she’d witnessed Lyon’s beating of the other man.
Any other man might have thrown a punch and escorted Jean-Luc out, but Lyon had turned into an animal, and Kira had found herself flush with desire when he’d finally risen, breath steady and without a mark on him, from the other man’s body.
And it wasn’t the first time he’d defended Kira’s honor. He’d gone to war with Musa, had violated the bratva’s code. Her husband was strong and vicious, and that was doubly true when it came to protecting her.
She owed him nothing less, even if her methods were less bloody.
The elevator dinged, the doors sliding smoothly open, and Kira rose to her feet.
Aksana stepped briskly from the car, her mind clearly on something else until she spotted Kira standing in the foyer.
As always, she did a quick scan of Kira from head to toe by way of a greeting, as if measuring whether Kira had finally managed to bring herself up to snuff.
A moment later, her gaze slid from Kira to the suitcases packed near the elevator.
“What is this?” Aksana asked.
“This is you leaving,” Kira said briskly. “I’ve had Zoya pack your things, so no need to worry about your privacy. I’ve booked you a suite at the Waldorf. We will, of course, cover the cost. Feel free to stay as long as you like.”
“And what does Lyon say about this?” Aksana asked.
“Lyon has left it to me,” Kira said. “I wanted to welcome you, wanted to get to know you, but you have been demanding, ungrateful, and rude. All of that would have been manageable if not for your disrespect of Lyon.”
Aksana lifted her chin. “You know nothing of my relationship with Lyon.”
“I know what I’ve seen,” Kira said. “This is Lyon’s home, and I will not allow you to disrespect him here. Rurik will drive you.”
He appeared in the hall suddenly, as if he’d been listening for the right moment, and walked toward them. Kira had gotten used to his height and bulk, but watching him tower over Aksana, his gaze stony, reminded her that while he might be of a certain age, he was not to be trifled with.
He bent to pick up one of the suitcases and Kira turned to go.
“Goodbye, Aksana.”
“You’re making a mistake,” the other woman said.
Kira faced her. There was something in the other woman’s words, a warning that had nothing to do with their domestic altercation.
“I think when this is all said and done, Aksana, you’ll find it’s you who have made the mistake.” She continued down the hall and spoke without turning. “Now get out of our home.”
* * *
Later that night, Lyon laughed and held her tighter in bed. “Strategically, it might not have been the best move, but I can’t fault you for it.”
They’d made love first — that always came first when they were in bed, and often in other places too — and were laying skin to skin under the covers. She’d been worried he would be upset when she told him about her decision to ask Aksana to leave and had waited to tell him when they were both satiated with a good dinner and each other.
“It wasn’t an easy decision to make,” she said. “But it didn’t seem like there was anything to gain from her being here anyway. She hardly spoke to either of us, and when she did she was rude and disrespectful, to say nothing of the way she treated Zoya and Rurik.”
She hadn’t told Lyon about his mother’s cruel comment. Hurting her husband was the last thing she wanted to do, the last thing he deserved, and she knew Aksana’s words about him being hard to love would hurt even though he would try to hide his pain.
“I don’t disagree,” he said.
“I caught her snooping in your room before we left for New York,” she said.
He lifted his head. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I was trying to keep the peace at the time, an admittedly foolish proposition. But that was one of the things that solidified my decision to kick her out. She stood to gain more by being here than we stood to gain by having her here.”
Lyon sighed. “I’ve had her followed since she arrived.”
Kira sat up to look at him. “You haven’t!”