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“That was my only job,” Lyon said. “I rented a lot in town and everyone carpooled from there. We didn’t want to spoil the surprise with twenty cars out front.”
Kira turned to look at the group that had assembled in the living room. All their friends and family were there — Zoya and Lina and Peter, Rurik and Alek and Markus, Oleg and Luka and their wives and children and so many of the other brigadiers, even Lana, who was usually busy hobnobbing with socialites and celebrities.
“I can’t believe you did this for me,” she said. “For us.”
“The newest member of the Antonov bratva must be welcomed properly,” Nadia, Luka’s wife said with a smile.
Kira shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. She hadn’t allowed herself to wallow in the difficulty of her pregnancy — the early days when she hadn’t been sure if Lyon would be happy, his kidnapping, the threat of Vadim — but it had been hard.
She’d missed her parents, had often felt alone, but this was proof she wasn’t.
That she never had been.
She sniffed and wiped away a tear. “I’m sorry. This just means so much to me,” she said. “You have no idea.”
Lyon tightened his arm around her and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “To us.” He looked out over the crowd. “This means so much to us.”
She looked up at him. “You were in on this!”
He smiled, and for a moment, the shadows that had lurked in his eyes since his rescue receded. “I just showed up. The planning was all to Annie.”
Kira turned and gave her a friend a tight hug. What had she ever done without Annie Kamenev? “Thank you for this.”
“I know it’s been hard,” Annie said, squeezing her back. “Now it’s time to celebrate.”
And celebrate they did, first with a catered lunch from 312, and then with presents and a gorgeous strawberry and whipped cream cake.
No one would allow Kira and Lyon to help, and they sat back while everyone played silly games and ate lunch, the children running through the house just like Kira had dreamed.
Soon, the great old house would be filled with the sound of their own children, and for the first time in a long time, it felt close enough to touch.
She was embarrassed by the generosity of the gifts bestowed on them. Money wasn’t a problem, but time had been, and she opened each gift with awe and gratitude that more than once threatened to overflow in tears.
There was even a gift from Ronan and Julia Murphy, and even more surprisingly, one from Damian Cavallo and his wife, Aria, and when she parted the tissue paper to reveal the softest bear she’d ever seen from FAO Schwartz, the card simply read RK.
Lyon had leaned over to whisper in her ear, “Roman.”
It was an embarrassment of riches, both in terms of the gifts bestowed on them and the love that filled the room. Her parents couldn’t be there, and Aksana — Lyon’s mother — wouldn’t have been welcome, but by the time Annie went to work with a few of the others to help clean up the mess, Kira knew their little family was surrounded by love.
They’d had a rough start. They’d had more than their share of challenges.
But she was starting to believe they were home free.
26
Roman walked through the doors of Basil’s, a seedy nightclub in Brooklyn, and nodded at the bouncer standing near the door.
“S’up?” the guard said, touching a hand to his dark goatee. The metal in his face glinted in the multi-colored lights sweeping the room from the dance floor.
“What’s the crowd look like tonight?” Roman asked.
“Big. Place is already packed.”
Roman nodded and started through the crowd.
“Good luck,” the bouncer called after him.
Roman hunched into his leather jacket. It wasn’t necessary here — one of the reasons he loved the place — but old habits died hard.
