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He fingered the remote control in his pocket. Let her have her fun. He would have his own.
She didn’t speak as they made their way closer to the river, and he disciplined himself not to look at her. She was too beautiful. Knowing he’d had her once, that he could never allow himself to have her again — not the way he had before when he’d let down his guard — made her beauty even more difficult to bear.
They pulled up outside an old stone building and Lyon waited while Alek came around to open the doors. He didn’t think he needed Alek here, but he was reassured by his presence, especially after the meeting with Tolya.
Musa was still out there, but Musa wouldn’t follow him to Prague. Their shadowy counterparts in Russia, on the other hand, were everywhere.
And by now they would know Lyon was here.
He held out his hand and helped Kira from the car, swallowing at the sight of her long legs extended from the car, at the teasing glimpse of her inner thighs.
Tucked into a stone building with an enclosed patio that jutted over the river, Mlýnec was one of the best restaurants in the city. He’d considered coming alone, leaving Kira to her own devices, but his pride had rebelled at the idea.
She was his wife. She would accompany him when he saw fit, would act as his wife in every way he demanded.
Tonight, she would be his dinner companion. Assuming she’d worn the vibrator he’d had sent to the hotel earlier that day, she would allow him to pleasure her at will from across the table.
But she wouldn’t come. Not until he gave her permission.
He tried to view the exercise dispassionately — more proof that he was in charge — but it was impossible not to imagine the silicone device nestled against her pussy, impossible not to imagine the tightening of her channel as she climbed toward orgasm.
He knew what it felt like to be enveloped by her sweet heat, to taste her as she shuddered against his mouth.
They entered the restaurant and he watched her take it in: the dark ceiling that mimicked a night sky, the faux tree branches that hugged pillars spaced every few feet between the kitchen and the dining room. Candles flickered at the center of each table, and a large light fixture twinkled with dim bulbs overhead. They looked like stars, and stone archways leading to the room on the river further gave the impression of being outside.
She showed no emotion as the hostess showed them to a table overlooking the water. He wasn’t surprised. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing pleasure at his choice of restaurants, and he felt a pang of longing for the Kira he’d come to know in the fall. Then, her eyes would have lit with excitement, her cheeks flushing with pleasure at the magic of the place.
He held out her chair and caught a whiff of patchouli, that unusual fragrance that had haunted him from the first.
Fuck.
He sat across from her, hoping his relief didn’t show on his face. He was more grateful than ever for the remote in his pocket. She was an enchantress. He would be wise to keep his distance.
She remained silent while he ordered for them both. They sipped on a good bottle of Shiraz while they waited for their meal, and he found himself missing her toasts. It had been a surprise to find her as witty and funny as she was beautiful, and he’d become accustomed to being surprised by her choice of words when they raised their glasses.
Another loss.
He watched her look out over the river, her long neck and delicate chin, her lips full even in profile. Anger surged through him. She’d ruined them.
She’d ruined him.
He slipped his hand into the pocket of his jacket and found the remote, pressed the button at its center.
She froze, and her throat rippled as she swallowed.
She turned slowly to face him, lifted her glass to her lips. When she set it down, her lips were stained with wine.
She regarded him coolly over the table, giving no indication that the vibrator was pulsing against her pussy. Had she worn it as instructed? Or had she defied him? It was impossible to tell based on the look on her face.
He lifted his finger from the button and thought he spotted a hint of relief on her face in the moment before she hid behind her implacable facade.
He was relieved when the waiter started bringing their food. As always with Kira, he couldn’t help feeling that he’d waded into a shallow pool with a steep and invisible drop-off. He thought he was in control, that he could touch the bottom, but then he would find himself plummeting through the darkness, sinking to the bottom when he least expected it.
I am in control, he reminded himself as the waiter placed the food on their table.
I am the Lion.
They dished from several plates: goat cheese salad with fennel, barely smoked trout with dill and sour cream, buttery duck served with red cabbage mousse, and a steak fillet so tender it melted in Lyon’s mouth, served with a sauce made of caramelized artichokes and aged balsamic vinegar.
