Shattered Crown: A Dark Mafia Age Gap Romance (Kozlov Empire Book 4)

I’m immediately assaulted by the chaos. Bright lights, a busy photography team, and elaborate floral displays fill the grand hall. It feels more like a film set than my own home.

Society Magazine spared no expense for this feature, and it’s not a mystery why. Everyone wants to know more about the woman who sank her talons into Russia’s most eligible billionaire, the man no one believed would settle down again. Not that the details of how my marriage to Irina ended were ever made public, but rumors have a way of spreading like a virus. Being featured in a Society spread is my idea of hell. I’m a private man, and even though this is all bullshit, I despise having to play a part.

Nadya has briefed Kira on what’s expected of her, but I can’t help but wonder how today will play out. When I catch sight of her across the room, my focus narrows; the noise, the lights, the people—they all blur into the background. All I can see is her.

Kira’s hair, usually a wild cascade, is tamed into gentle waves that rest on her shoulders. She’s dressed in a classic pink Chanel suit, the color complementing her peach and cream complexion. Like her subtle makeup, it downplays how damn young she is, which I suppose was Nadya’s instruction to the stylist and hair-and-makeup team who put her together today. She looks perfect, comfortable and composed as if this bustling scene around her is an everyday occurrence.

Kira laughs at a comment from Maria Tokarev, a well-known entertainment journalist. She’s an elegant woman in her forties and one of the few in the industry I trust to not fuck this up.

Taking a deep breath, I cut through the room, a smile held tightly on my face. I may not like to play the game, but I’m certainly good at it. “Good afternoon, ladies.”

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 for Society.”

“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’s never 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.

Before I can process her words, she’s crawling into my lap, her lush ass flush against my crotch. My hands instinctively grasp her hips.

‘What are you doing?’ I murmur.

With a sly grin, she turns her head and winks at me. “Is there a problem?”

If there is, the photographer doesn’t see it. “Perfect. Hold that.” He captures a few shots, then suggests, ‘Maybe a bit closer, Kira? Imagine you’re sharing a secret.’

Following his guidance, she moves in even closer, her lips brushing against my earlobe. The warmth of her breath sends a shiver up my spine. Then she squirms in my lap, and my brain short-circuits. I release a hiss as she very deliberately readjusts her position, her soft ass nestling tight against my cock.

“You okay, honey?” she coos in my ear as Ivan clicks away. “You seem a little out of breath.”

Between clenched teeth, I bite out, “Maybe if you stop fidgeting like you have ants in your pants, I could have a moment to … pull myself together.”

With that, she provocatively rolls her hips against my groin in a slow, sensual motion, deliberately teasing. A deep, involuntary grunt escapes me as she shifts back in my lap, my cock swollen and weeping in my pants. Pretty sure my eyes roll up to the back of my head. The little vixen is playing a game—one that is rapidly spiraling out of my control.

‘What is it you think you’re doing?’

“I’m sorry, are you uncomfortable?” She twists around, her gaze lazy and knowing, taking in my desperate state. She comes in close, her light floral scent filling my nostrils. It only adds to the maddening sensation. “Would you compare it to having a bucket of freezing cold water dumped on you in your sleep?”

“Kira, behave,” I spit out.

The only thing I can do to stop her unofficial lap dance is grab her hips and pin her tight against me. It might limit her wriggling, but it doesn’t help my ragged breaths, pumping heart, or the fact that I couldn’t stand up and walk away if I needed to.

My problem would be way too obvious.

“Man, this is smoking,” Ivan praises, scrolling through the pictures on his camera. ‘There’s real chemistry here.”

Maria leans in, and he shows her the snaps. She nods approvingly.

“Are we nearly done?” I grit. My knuckles whiten as I struggle to keep Kira still.

“Almost. Can you look up at Kira like she’s the most precious thing in the world to you?”

I’m sorely tempted to tell Ivan to fuck off, but taking the path of least resistance seems wiser. The quicker I get this over with, the sooner I can distance myself from Kira.

I inhale a deep, cleansing breath. It’s like prepping for a fight—I need to center myself. Pushing all other thoughts aside, I focus on getting through the next few minutes without losing control. Because that’s the effect Kira has on me. Maybe if her body wasn’t so warm and soft, if she didn’t feel so damn perfect pressed against me, I could focus on something other than the urge to bury myself in her tight cunt.

‘One more,’ Ivan instructs. ‘Almost like you’re going to kiss. I want to capture this tension.’

Kira leans in towards me, her plump lips close but not touching mine. Her hot breath flutters against my mouth, and it takes everything in me not to capture her lower lip between my teeth.

“You will pay.” I keep my voice light and pleasant, but the threat is anything but.

Her expression remains unchanged, but the thumping pulse at her throat betrays the impact of my words. Maybe she’s imagining how I made her pay after she ran from me.

She lays her soft hand on my face, pressing into my jaw while her lips brush against mine like a ghost caress. The shudder of arousal that moves through my body is fierce. It’s the sweetest form of torture, and she knows exactly what she’s doing.

Her mouth hovers over my ear as she whispers, “This is my payback, Maxim. I won’t be pushed around by you. I won’t bend to your every whim or be bullied by you. I don’t know how it was with your first wife, but I’m not like that.”

I freeze, unease creeping over my body. Ripping myself from her hold, I search her eyes.

Why is she mentioning Irina? What does she know?

Somewhere beyond us, Ivan declares, “That’s perfect.”

The space around us comes alive, buzzing with the crew doing whatever it is that they need to do, but Kira and I don’t move as I watch her for a reaction. The weight of the past clings to me, making it hard to breathe.

“What do you know about my first wife?” My tone is arctic.

She seems to realize she wandered into very ugly territory, whether on purpose or not. “Forget I said that.” She swallows, quickly sliding off my lap. “I was making a point.”

My jaw tightens. “Never bring her up again.”

Kira shoots me a defiant look and then strides away to join Maria. I take a moment to rise, straightening my cufflinks, smoothing down my tie.

When I look up, Nadya watches from the sidelines. Maria might have missed this interaction, but Nadya hasn’t missed a thing. She never does. She cocks her head as if to ask, Do we have a problem?

Of all the people that know my personal history, Nadya is the most protective of me. Maybe because she saw the true devastation and raw grief from that time, how the only way to survive was to close my heart, harden the shell around my soul, and attempt to carry on.

I clear my throat and give a slight shake of my head. I don’t need Nadya running interference. I can handle Kira all on my own.

Except when I can’t. Like when she’s grinding on my dick in a room full of people.

Well, two can play that game, and I’m more than capable of matching her step for step.

KIRA

Maybe I should have considered my devious little plan more carefully because it wasn’t just Maxim who got all worked up—I was feeling rather needy myself. In fact, everyone in the room seemed a bit hot and bothered.

Of course, Maxim doused the heat of the moment when I mentioned his first wife. I guess it makes sense to not want to discuss the woman you killed. Whatever, if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.

I don’t have time to stew over his words because Maria is already settling into the sitting room, where tea and refreshments are set up. Poised, she takes a seat first, smoothing out her skirt before reaching into her bag and pulling out a digital recorder, which she places in the middle of the coffee table.

‘Mind if I record this?’ she asks. “So I don’t miss anything.”

“That’s fine.” I lower myself onto the plush loveseat beside Maxim, leaving a small gap between us—a careful space that speaks volumes.

Maxim is not having it. This time, he’s the one to close the distance between us, sliding towards me so that our legs are touching. Still irked by his reaction to my mentioning his first wife, I shoot him a look that says, Back off. Maxim is unfazed by my annoyance. He flashes one of his panty-melting smiles and drapes an arm casually around my shoulders. I stiffen at the unexpected intimacy, but with Maria sitting across from us grinning from ear to ear, I can’t knee him in the balls, so I do my best to relax.

“Alright,” Maria begins, looking between us with keen interest. “Let’s get started.” She presses the record button. “I think the first question on everyone’s mind is: how did you two meet? As I understand it, Kira was living in America at the time.”

“I have connections to Kira’s family in the US,” Maxim says, keeping it vague. “We met when I was in New York last winter, and when Kira visited Russia a few months later, I invited her to stay at my Black Sea home.” I scoff quietly. This version of events is so far from the truth it’s almost comical. Maxim’s hand drops to my knee, giving it a subtle squeeze in warning. “It was there that we really got to know each other,” Maxim continues. “We spent hours strolling through my vineyard, enjoying picnics on the beach, spending time together.”

Maria writes something in her notebook, shaking her head. “What a romantic you’re turning out to be. Kira, were you surprised by the softer side of the famous Maxim Belov?”

“Was I ever,” I say emphatically. ‘The Maxim I know is quite different from the one everyone else sees.’

Maria smiles knowingly. “Tell me something surprisingly romantic Maxim did during your courtship.”

‘Oh, we can’t give away all our secrets,’ he jumps in before I can say anything. ‘Some things are just for us.’ His words are sweet, but his eyes flash with warning as he lifts my hand and drops a kiss on the inside of my wrist, sending an involuntary shiver up my arm.

I push aside the fluttering sensation in my belly. “Oh, come on, don’t be coy. We can share a few things.” I give him a sugary sweet grin before I address Maria again. “Maxim refuses to spend a night apart. He’d rather douse me in freezing cold water than not sleep by my side.”

“Douse you in water?” Maria’s eyebrows pull together.

“Is that what I said? I meant himself.” Beside me, Maxim stifles a laugh, disguising it with a timely cough. “And his proposal was something else. We were surrounded by our family and friends, in the wine cellar of his Black Sea home. It was all so romantic.”

Maria nods eagerly, scribbling down every word. ‘That sounds like a fairy tale.’

‘I’m glad you have such fond memories of that evening,’ Maxim murmurs so only I can hear as he brushes the pad of one finger over the pulse point at my wrist. I shoot him a hands-off look.

“Not sure ‘fond’ is quite the word,” I whisper back.

Maria shifts in her seat, tilting her head in thought. “Maxim, what made you choose to settle down again at this point in your life?”

Maxim stiffens beside me but quickly masks his discomfort with a practiced smile. “Maybe I’ve been waiting for the right woman to come along and sweep me off my feet.” His eyes lock on mine.

A charged undercurrent shifts the air between us and I have to look away, breaking the connection that suddenly feels too real.

“Last question,” Maria’s voice rings out. “Do you have any plans for a honeymoon?”

Maxim’s hand, warm and steady, covers mine and a heady rush coasts over my skin. For some reason, I don’t want to play our game anymore.

“I have something very special planned for Kira. A surprise.”

“Ooh, that sounds lovely,” Maria coos as I steal back my hand.

He’s saying it for her benefit. Like his put-on charm and those politician-perfect smiles, his smooth words are another layer masking who he really is. But I will uncover that truth.

Maria informs us she has everything she needs and then thanks us warmly for the interview. She shakes Maxim’s hand.

When she turns to me, I gesture towards the door. “Let me escort you out,” I offer.

Maxim’s eyes narrow as if questioning my motives, but he doesn’t say anything, and I don’t offer an explanation.

As we walk through the hall towards the entranceway, Maria turns to me. ‘You know, I’ve covered Maxim for years, and I’ve never seen him like this. So alive.’

I don’t know what to make of her revelation. Obviously Maxim is a great actor when he wants to be.

“Like what? How was he before?” I realize this is the perfect opportunity to get some answers, not only about Maxim’s past. As a journalist, she might know something about my aunt.

“There’s a spark that’s been missing for a long time. But I see it again, and it’s all because of you.”

I’m about to ask her why he lost his spark in the first place when a dark shadow appears out of nowhere.

“Mrs. Tokarev, I trust you got everything you required,” Nadya says, inserting herself between us.

Maria smiles, but I sense an underlying annoyance. “I did. Thank you for arranging everything. It’s been such a delight to meet the wonderful Kira that everyone is so curious about.”

I don’t want to miss the chance to pick Maria’s brain. “Maybe we can meet for coffee one⁠—”

“Thank you again for your time,” Nadya interrupts me. “I have arranged a limo for you. It’s waiting outside.” The older woman gestures towards the door, leaving no room for argument.

Maria takes my hand in hers. ‘It was truly a pleasure, Kira. Thank you.’ With a final nod, she turns and leaves, her steps echoing through the foyer.

As soon as Maria is out of earshot, I whirl around to face Nadya. ‘Stay out of my business,’ I snap, my frustration boiling over. ‘I don’t need you to monitor my every move.”

Nadya steps closer, her gaze sharp, fingers absently playing with the cross around her neck. ‘You have no right to befriend a journalist. It’s not only your reputation at stake,’ she fires back with a stern tone. ‘You’d do well to remember that.’

“And you’d do well to remember that I’m the lady of this house, and I certainly don’t answer to you.”

Nadya’s eyes narrow, and she lets out a slow, measured breath. ‘We’ll see about that,’ she says, her voice laced with thinly veiled contempt. ‘I was here before you, and I’ll still be here long after you’re gone.’ With that, she turns and walks away, leaving a tense silence in her wake.

A realization dawns on me, sharp and unbidden. Nadya must be in love with Maxim. It’s the only thing that makes sense, the only reason she’d act so possessive over him.

I’m quite sure Maxim doesn’t reciprocate her feelings, but the whole thing is so weird. I really need to hurry up and dig harder into Maxim’s connection with my aunt’s murder.

And the mayor’s dinner party in a few days is the perfect place to do some digging.