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It felt dirty to negotiate while Kira grieved, but Lyon had known Viktor. The best thing Lyon could do — the thing Viktor would want most of all — was to assume control of the bratva with Kira by his side.
What had been the point otherwise?
“I’m sure you’re right,” Ivan said. “In the meantime, take this month to care for your wife and plan for the future. Only time will tell what it holds.”
Lyon nodded and got into the car next to Kira. He wanted to take her hand, but he sensed the gesture wouldn’t be welcome. She hadn’t slept in his bed since the night Viktor was killed, had hardly looked at him. He missed her, but he knew she needed space to process what had happened to her father, space to grieve.
Lyon would give her all the time she needed. Now he knew for sure that he loved her, that he would do anything for her, had felt the certainty when he watched her fall to the floor next to her dead father, had felt her grief tear through his chest as if they were one person.
He held his hands in his lap and turned his face to the window.
He was in no hurry. He would wait as long as it took.
