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She took her coffee upstairs and nursed it while she did her makeup and styled her hair. She let the birds out of the cage for a few minutes, laughing as they darted around the room and landed on her arm to run their beaks along her cheek. Then she changed from the jogger to a pair of wool pants and a cashmere sweater in deep violet.
When she went back downstairs, Zoya was dusting the living room.
“You don’t have to do that,” Kira said. They had a housekeeper who cleaned.
She turned to look at Kira and sniffed. “What else do you expect me to do? I’ll go mad here if I don’t do something.”
Kira smiled sympathetically. Zoya had been busy at her father’s house. There, Zoya had answered invitations on behalf of Kira and her father, helped plan parties, and overseen the management of Lina (as if anyone could manage Lina) and Peter.
The penthouse was like a mausoleum by comparison, a situation that had been made worse when Kira left. Poor Zoya. She’d been alone in the apartment with Rurik, as remote as a mountain, and with Lyon, who’d been enraged by Kira’s abandonment.
She walked over and kissed Zoya’s papery cheek. “I’m sorry. I know things have been strange here.”
Zoya scowled. “Strange is putting it nicely.”
“Yes, well, I feel like we’re getting back on track,” Kira said.
“You and the brute?” Zoya asked. Kira glanced around, worried that Rurik might overhear, and Zoya rolled her eyes. “The gargoyle is in his room, and your husband left early this morning.”
“Still,” Kira said, “try to be nice. Things will settle down. There will be a lot more for you to do soon.”
Once Lyon’s position became more secure, they would host more events. They would be invited to more events too, especially when Lyon started working with organizations like the Syndicate. Plus, Kira planned to do outreach to politicians and business leaders in an effort to expand the opportunities available to the bratva.
Not that she’d told Lyon that.
Zoya took in Kira’s outfit. “Where are you going?”
“To breakfast with Annie Kamenev,” Kira said.
“You should ask Rurik to drive you,” Zoya said. “I heard your husband tell the beast he didn’t want you out alone.”
Kira laughed and shook her head. “He’s being silly. You and I visited Lina last week, and I went to the Murphys alone. I’m not going to wrap myself in bubble wrap.”
She felt almost good for the first time since being back in Chicago. She wanted to enjoy it, to do something as simple as have breakfast with a friend without worrying about Lyon’s overbearing control.
“He won’t like it,” Zoya said.
“You should take the day off, go out and do something fun or watch one of your shows,” Kira suggested. She headed for the elevator. “I’ll be back before he even knows I’m gone.”
* * *
By the time Kira got to West Town, it was late morning. The neighborhood was busy in spite of the cold, so she parked a couple streets away and hurried toward the restaurant with her head down and tucked into her scarf.
Her cheeks were numb when she finally reached the brick building on the corner, its green awning stretched across two sides. She opened the door and immediately spotted Annie’s raven hair at a table against the wall.
Annie waved, her cheeks flushed. Kira returned her smile and moved through the crowded restaurant.
Annie had her arms around Kira before Kira could even dispose of her coat. “It’s so nice to see you!”
“You too,” Kira said. “It’s been so long.”
She got settled across the table from Annie and they ordered coffee while they looked at the menus and chatted idly about the weather.
After they’d ordered, Kira asked about Annie’s Christmas, hoping to keep the topic of conversation away from herself. Annie’s brother Borya was seeing a new woman Annie didn’t care for, which had made for a tense holiday, but Annie didn’t think it would last so she was biding her time, trying to be nice in spite of her gut feeling that the woman was trouble.
When Annie asked about Kira’s holiday, Kira said she’d gone west to spend time with some of her father’s family, the best cover she could think of for her flight to Washington state. The bratva was old-fashioned. It was important that Lyon’s personal life look like a smoothly oiled machine, that his wife be the picture of loyalty.
Annie asked how Kira was doing with her father’s death. Kira got teary in spite of her effort to remain in control, but it felt good to let her guard down a little, to talk about her grief without worrying how it would impact Lyon or their plans for the bratva.
