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“I’d like you to give Lyonya another holding,” she said. “One to replace Samara.”
“I gave your new husband many new holdings in our negotiations,” he said.
“Yes, but Samara was special to him. He’d planned to use it as a gathering place for the men who agreed to stand with him.” It had been the perfect place: warm and inviting, with more than a nod to their Russian heritage. A place where they could drink and laugh and plan, where the sex workers who were part of the bratva’s machinations could pay them a visit in private, although Kira found she was loathe to think of Lyonya indulging in their services. “I’d like to give him something similar as a wedding present, a show of good faith in our agreement.”
Her father lifted his bushy eyebrows. “The holdings he has now aren’t good faith enough?”
“They’re generous indeed, but this I would like to be personal — a gift from me to him,” she said.
Her father nodded his understanding. “I see. And do you have anything specific in mind?”
“I was thinking about Ludis,” she said. It was a nightclub in West Town frequented not only by high-level members of the bratva, but by business tycoons looking for a place to party off the beaten path of the places downtown. “It needs some freshening up, but the men enjoy it, and it has space in the back for Lyonya to conduct business. Also, it belongs to Borya Kamenev, and I happen to know he wants a position with the Spies.”
Members of the Spies didn’t have holdings of their own. Instead they received a significant percentage of all the money kicked up from the soldiers led by the brigadiers.
“Stripping him of his holdings hardly seems like a comforting step in that direction,” her father said.
She thought about her conversation with Annie Kamenev at brunch. “I know it would appear that way, but I’ve spoken to his sister Annie. I believe I can spin it to look like the beginning of Borya’s transition to the Spies.”
“And what about your husband?” her father asked. “He will have to sign off on such a move. What if you strip Borya of Ludis and fail to deliver on the promised reward?”
“I won’t,” she said firmly. “Leave Lyonya to me.”
He nodded. “If you think this is for the best, it will be done.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Let me tell Annie. She’ll know how to best explain to Borya.”
Her father studied her. “And you are being careful? With your head and your heart?”
Her cheeks warmed and she sat straighter, forcing her voice steady. “Of course,” she said smoothly. “I’m playing the game as we planned. This is simply another move.”
Was it a lie? She didn’t know. Her head and heart were in turmoil, and they weren’t the worst of it. The worst of it was her body, which had developed a mind of its own, a mind that was hell-bent on having Lyonya in her bed.
But of course, this was hardly something she could admit to her father, especially when she could barely admit it to herself.
* * *
She called Annie Kamenev on the way home to explain about Ludis, making suggestions as to how Annie might spin the decision to Borya in a way that signified not a loss of income, but a step toward the Spies and the stability he craved.
By the time she got off the phone, she was reassured that Annie was on her side and more than capable of explaining the situation to her brother. In fact, Annie thought it might be just the thing to tip him into Lyonya’s camp, something she’d been working on since the brunch at 312 Chicago.
Kira would wait until she got the official word from Annie to approach Lyonya about moving Borya into the Spies. It couldn’t be done until Lyonya had won the role of pakhan, but the promise would be enough, and she was confident Lyonya would be willing to trade the promotion for Borya’s loyalty.
By the time she took the elevator to the penthouse, she was feeling both pleased and excited. Pleased that she was so close to bringing Borya Kamenev to Lyonya’s side, that she would have something tangible to show Lyonya her value as a partner.
Excited to give him her wedding present.
She stepped into the foyer of the apartment and started for the living room, then stopped when she saw her bags packed by the door.
She looked around, and a moment later, Lyonya started toward her with Zoya on his heels.
It was the first time she’d seen him since the night before, since he’d almost made her come on the terrace, and she hated that he looked every bit as delicious now as he had on the terrace. His gray trousers hugged his thighs like a glove, and a black cashmere sweater made his shoulders look even broader than usual.
“What is this?” Kira asked, grateful for the distraction of her packed bags.
“I’m sorry,” Zoya said. “Mr. Antonov — ”
“I instructed Zoya to pack your things,” Lyonya interrupted. “We’re going away for awhile.”
“What? I can’t go away on such short notice. I — ”
“You will be ready to leave in fifteen minutes,” he said.
She crossed her arms over her chest, her warm feelings for him forgotten. “I will not.”
His expression turned dark, his eyes stormy. “You will. Either on your own two feet or carried over my shoulder. Your choice.”
He turned away and stalked down the hall, leaving her to stare after him, wondering why she’d bothered trying to do something nice.
