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Kira turns to me, a glint in her eyes that I can't quite decipher. "There he is," she purrs. Without waiting, her lips meet mine, delivering a not-so-chaste kiss.
Holy hell, that's unexpected. Her lips are soft, tasting of berries with a hint of mint, and it's all I can do not to push my tongue into her mouth for more.
But she pulls back first, her eyes flashing with what looks like a challenge. She’s playing the part of a doting wife, though I hadn’t anticipated this level of …enthusiasm.
I place a hand on the curve of Kira’s lower back.
She tenses for a moment, then eases into my touch. “Maxim, I’d like to introduce you to Maria Tokarev. She’ll be writing about us forSociety.”
“Maria,” I greet, leaning in to give her a polite peck on the cheek. “As always, it’s a pleasure.”
A frown momentarily creases Kira’s forehead. “You two know each other?”
Maria tilts her head. “I’ve been covering Moscow’s elite for a long time. Though Mr. Belov here isn’t one for media spotlight, he is a man about town, so we’ve crossed paths. However, he’snever agreed to an interview until now. You must have worked your magic on him,” she says, winking at Kira.
“Maybe I have.”
Kira’s words catch me off guard. Does she have any memory of what happened this morning, or is she playing the part for Maria?
Turning to me, Kira says, “Honey, how about we do the photo shoot first, and then we can settle in for the interview.”
“Whatever works best,” I murmur, pleased that Kira is at least acting the part.
“We’re all set up over here.” Maria gestures towards my sitting room, where a photographer is adjusting his camera on its tripod, with a few strategically placed lights illuminating the space.
The photographer—a nerdy-looking guy in his thirties, wearing black-rimmed glasses and a casual shirt—looks up from behind his lens and gives us a welcoming smile. "Good to see you again, Mr. Belov," he says, nodding my way.
I recognize him from past events but never had a formal introduction.
“Maxim, meet Ivan. He’s the best in the business,” Maria chimes in.
I acknowledge him with a nod. “Let’s get this started.”
"Of course," Ivan replies, directing his attention to both of us. "If the two of you could get comfortable… Don’t worry about posing—I prefer more natural shots. Why don’t you sit down on the couch and relax," Ivan encourages. "Pretend we’re not even here.”
I raise my eyebrows. Relax? Act natural?
I’m about to tell him I don’t have all day for this crap, but Kira doesn’t give me time to argue. She pulls me towards the couch and settles down, ensuring there's just enough space for me beside her.
Ivan starts fiddling with the lights as I sink into the cushions beside Kira.
I lean in close to her. “You did good,” I praise. “Who said you wouldn’t make a good society wife, after all.”
She raises a brow, her lips tilting upwards. "Hold your praise. We’re only getting started.”
As if that’s not ominous. Does the little vixen have something up her sleeve?
When I meet her stare, she just blinks up at me innocently. I lean back, wrapping my arm around the couch and search her face for any sign she remembers this morning—me holding her through the nightmare—but there's nothing. Not a flicker of recognition.
“How did you sleep last night?” I ask, voice rough.
Her eyebrows pull together. “Fine. Why? Did I … say something in my sleep?”
I consider mentioning the nightmare, but there’s something about her, a flash of vulnerability that makes me decide to drop it. "You seemed restless, that's all," I say, keeping my tone light.
“We’re good to go anytime you are,” Ivan calls across the room. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Kira’s lips form a mischievous smirk. “Just follow my lead,” she whispers into my ear, her warm breath tickling my skin.
