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She wasn’t oblivious to the women who stared as they walked past. She didn’t blame them. Dressed in jeans that hugged his significant thighs and an ivory sweater that only accentuated his dark hair and almost supernatural eyes, he might have been a runway model if not for the sheer breadth of his shoulders, the muscled chest that was obvious even through the sweater.
They wandered through several gift shops and two antique stores, then killed an hour perusing dusty tomes in a used bookstore. She continued to be surprised by the depth of his knowledge. She knew he hadn’t gone to college, but he'd obviously made it his business to educate himself, and he left the store with an old copy ofThe Turn of the Screw, plus an old edition ofAnna Karenina, which he presented to Kira on the sidewalk.
She couldn’t stop the smile that rose to her face as he handed her the package. “You’ve already given me a wedding present.”
His gaze darkened as he focused on the bracelet around her wrist, except this time it wasn’t anger she saw in his eyes but a passion that made her think of their night in bed, the way he’d taken her in the shower.
“It suits you,” he said.
“Thank you.” She hadn’t worn the bracelet to help her father in the garden, and then she’d been too angry by Lyon’s insistence that they leave Chicago to put it on.
But this morning it had felt right, and she had to admit she liked the weight of it around her wrist, the ruby glinting in the autumn sun. She told herself it was to keep him thinking warmly of her, but the excuse sounded hollow even to her own mind.
She took the book and tucked it under her arm, then hesitated before slipping her hand back into his, pulling him out of the flow of pedestrian traffic. “I have something for you too. I’d forgotten until now. We left Chicago so fast.”
He looked bewildered. “You got me a wedding gift?”
“It’s an unconventional one, but… well, I’ve secured Ludis for you. To replace Samara while you rebuild it.”
He blinked, his surprise replaced with confusion. “That’s Borya’s holding.”
“I know,” she said. “But I knew he wanted a position with the Spies from my brunch with Annie. He won’t be able to maintain holdings once you promote him.”
His expression turned guarded. “Who says I’m going to promote him?”
She smiled up at him. She was beginning to enjoy their push and pull, although she knew that was as dangerous as enjoying having him in her bed. “I have no doubt you will. It’s the wisest move, and I believe my husband is very wise indeed.”
He grinned. “You’re good.”
She laughed. “I’d say we’re evenly matched. Anyway, I’ve already spoken to Annie and framed this as a precursor to Borya’s eventual promotion to the Spies. It’s not an issue. Ludis is yours.”
He reached hesitantly to smooth her hair with a gloved hand. She couldn’t blame him after the way she’d slapped it away that morning on the deck.
This time she didn’t slap it away.
“Thank you,” he said. “It’s a wonderful present. A thoughtful one.”
“You’re welcome.” The mood had gotten too serious for her liking, the affection between them too warm. She was eager to put them back on lighter ground. “Now, I believe I was promised breakfast.”
He laughed and took her hand.
They ate at the White Lion, a restaurant inside an historic hotel with a waterfront view. The conversation flowed easily between them, and by the time Kira had finished her waffles, piled with fresh strawberries and dusted with powdered sugar and doused with local syrup, she’d almost forgotten their argument about whether she would stay at the lake house.
It was late afternoon by the time they drove home. They didn’t speak, and Kira braced herself for the debate, rehearsing her arguments for returning to Chicago with Lyon.
One, she needed to be near her father. He was an old man, and having a stranger check in on him wasn’t the same.
Two, she and Lyon were supposed to be partners, which meant she had a voice in what they did next, and certainly in what she did next.
Three, she wasn’t some hothouse flower who needed protecting. She might not have Lyon’s muscle, but he had plenty of that in the men who’d pledged their loyalty to him, and she was smart enough — disciplined enough - to think on her feet and stay out of trouble.
She understood the challenges facing them as well as Lyon did, had been studying the men of the bratva since she was in college. She would be an asset, as she’d proven with Borya Kamenev.
She felt reasonably certain she could sway him, even though a small voice inside her warned that no one could really sway the Lion — not even her. Maybe even especially not her. They’d bridged some of the dark waters between them over the last twenty-four hours, but she wasn’t naive enough to think Lyon really considered her a partner.
They pulled into the garage and she reached for the door. Lyon put a hand on her arm, his eyes on the rearview mirror. He didn’t remove his hand until the garage door had closed behind them.
They got out of the car and Lyon carried their packages up the stairs that led to the house. He froze when he reached the door at the top of the stairs.
