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

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Belov, it’s a pleasure to have you on board. Our expected flight time direct to New York is approximately nine hours at a cruising altitude of forty thousand feet. Svetlana is your cabin attendant and will take care of all your needs during the journey. If there’s anything you require from the cockpit, please don’t hesitate to let us know.’

The pilot signs off as Maxim’s private jet taxis towards the runway. I don’t have to look back at Svetlana to know how willing she is to take care of any and all of Maxim’s needs. She’s been sending him hot and heavy glances from the galley ever since we boarded.

Whatever. Let her entertain him.

I have bigger concerns right now, starting with Maxim knowing I’m after something. I get the feeling he suspects I’m gathering intel for my brothers. I’m fine with him thinking that since it’s far from the truth. But it means he’ll be watching me closely. This doesn’t bode well for my chances of discovering why Maxim was supposed to meet Masha before her death.

I pop my earbuds in and stare out the small window, trying to focus on the view outside as the plane takes off. The roar of the engines fills the cabin, and as the plane accelerates, my eyes meet Maxim’s in the window’s reflection.

I quickly look away. The unexpected consequence of using my body as a tool to distract him when he found me snooping is that I feel a jolt of lust when he looks at me. And he’s been looking at me a lot today.

‘Here’s your sparkling water and black coffee, Mr. Belov.’ Svetlana bends over, offering Maxim a seductive smile and glimpse of her ample cleavage as she places the drinks in front of him. A delicate curl of her auburn hair slides forward, contrasting with her fair skin. ‘I remember your exact preferences,” she purrs, her voice heavy with suggestions.

I roll my eyes. This woman has zero subtlety.

He clears his throat and flicks her an admonishing look. “You seemed to have forgotten my wife’s drink.”

“I’m so sorry,” she chirps. “I didn’t realize you were traveling with company.” Liar. “I’ll be sure to get another water right away. Or a Coke. You’re American, right?” Svetlana finally acknowledges me with a condescending smile.

My back stiffens, and I meet Svetlana’s judgemental gaze with a harsh look of my own. If Maxim is going to bring his whores on our flight, he better not expect me to be friendly.

Against my better judgment, jealousy sparks in my gut. “Actually, I’ll have a bourbon. Neat. That’s what us Yanks like to drink.”

‘Very well,’ Svetlana says with a feigned cheerfulness in her tone, then swiftly turns away.

“Oh, and one of those fancy little bags of peanuts,” I call to her rigid back. “Dry-roasted, please, and hold the salt.”

She doesn’t bother turning around this time. She huffs out a breath and straightens her shoulders.

“You know what,” I continue, tapping a finger on my lips. “I’d also love a coffee. I’ll take half-caff, triple-shot, no foam, soy milk, one pump vanilla, two pumps hazelnut, extra hot macchiato with a dash of cinnamon.”

Svetlana’s shoulders hunch around her ears, and the only acknowledgement she gives is a stiff nod. A moment later, she’s gone.

Beside me, Maxim lets out a low, amused snicker, the fine lines at the corners of his eyes deepening. “Don’t you take your coffee black?” he asks, arching a brow.

I stare straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact. “Was it really necessary to bring your mistress to New York?”

His hand lifts, gently cradling my jaw, guiding my gaze up to meet his intense stare. ‘Are you jealous, lastochka?”

She’s everything I’m not. Tall, sophisticated, skinny. So, yeah, I’m jealous. But I’ll never give him the pleasure of admitting it.

“I don’t care what you do,” I hiss, shaking free from his grasp. ‘But it’s basic common courtesy not to bring your whore on our so-called honeymoon.’

His jaw ticks, and he keeps quiet for a minute. Then, like he’s come to a decision, he gets out of his seat. “Excuse me,” he says, buttoning up his suit jacket before walking off.

That motherfucker. He can’t wait until we land—he’s already sneaking off to get under Svetlana’s skirt at thirty thousand feet.

I press my molars together and grab a magazine from the console in front of me, but I can’t focus. The words blur together in a jumbled mess, my insides entirely consumed by my boiling emotions. I’m rubbing at the headache pounding in my temples when Svetlana materializes beside me. With Maxim not here, she doesn’t bother with her fake-as-shit smile.

‘Your bourbon.’ Svetlana places the lowball before me with slightly more force than necessary. Following that, she holds up a bag of gourmet mixed nuts. Before she hands it to me, she warns, “Careful, these are a real calorie bomb.”

A flush of embarrassment colors my cheeks. I try to think of a swift comeback, but fuck, talk about hitting a girl when she’s down. I’m not particularly sensitive about my body, but like everyone on this planet, I’ve dealt with my fair share of body issues and I don’t need to be shamed by my husband’s mistress, of all people. The emotions of the day get to me. Her insult, going back to New York—which is bitter-sweet—and Maxim’s suspicion of me… All of it feels overwhelming.

I stand and push past Svetlana, needing a moment alone to collect myself. As I do, her hand wavers, and the cup of coffee she’s holding wobbles and splashes over the rim.

‘Shit!’ The hot liquid soaks through the fabric of my jeans. I grab a napkin off her tray and dab at the stain, an attempt to stop the seeping coffee from searing my skin.

Svetlana rolls her eyes, her ruby lips curling into a disdainful smirk. Cheeks burning, I make a swift exit towards the back of the plane, hoping to salvage whatever I can of my jeans and dignity.

I feel so silly. Why am I letting this get to me? I downright encouraged Maxim to sleep with other people, and that’s exactly what he did. So why does it burn so fucking bad?

Blotting at my jeans with a paper towel, I’m horrified to realize that my face is damp. I’m crying, and I don’t know why. Or maybe I do. I’m tired, overwhelmed, and all I can think of is how I’ve failed Masha … again. I still don’t have any information that ties Maxim to her murder, and when I’m around him I lose focus.

I give up patting my jeans dry and accept that I’ll smell like coffee for the rest of the flight. Taking a deep breath, I sit down on the closed toilet seat and take stock of my current situation. We have another nine hours in the air, and I’m already exhausted having not slept all that much over the last few days.

Part of me wants to lock myself in this bathroom for the rest of this flight and let Maxim do whatever the hell he wants, but the part of me that’s fought for respect my whole life resists. I’m not going to hide in a bathroom to accommodate Maxim or that rude bitch. I am going to walk out of here with my head held high and show both of them that I won’t be pushed aside.

With one final deep breath, I march out of here and head towards an empty bank of seats. I’m sure as shit not going to sit beside him any longer. My footsteps slow as I near the galley, catching a whispered exchange between Svetlana and Maxim behind the drawn curtain. A bigger person might keep on walking, but that’s not me. So I press myself against the wall, listening.

‘I don’t understand what I did wrong,’ Svetlana whines, her words dripping with feigned innocence.

“You disrespected my wife.” Maxim’s voice is hard and unrelenting. “If you were a man, you’d be dead by now.”

“You’ve been married for all of five minutes, and she’s young enough to be your daughter. I don’t believe it’s real for one second.” Her voice turns breathy and intimate. “We have history, Maxim. I thought I meant more to you.”

“Perhaps your definition of history includes a mile-high blow-job, but mine doesn’t.”

He’s so ice-cold I almost feel bad for her. Almost. But mostly, I feel a pulse of satisfaction as he comes to my defense.

“What my marriage is or isn’t is none of your business, but know this… She wears my ring and bears my name, and I won’t have Kira made to feel less than the queen she is. My queen.”

His queen? Am I hearing this right?

A silent beat, and then a muffled sob before Svetlana’s voice—now laced with a quiet fury—hisses through the door. ‘How can you be so cruel?”

“You think this is me being cruel? Insult Kira again, and you’ll see what cruelty really looks like. Pack up your shit. We’re making a pitstop.”

Huh? I’m confused about what’s going on, but I don’t stick around to hear more because Maxim is on his way out of the galley. Hastily, I slide back into my seat, pretending to browse for a movie on my tablet.

A minute later, Maxim settles beside me. We both remain silent. When I steal a quick glance at him, he appears relaxed, one ankle resting on his knee, his gaze fixed ahead as if the earlier exchange never occurred.

I’m prodding at the screen with my finger when the PA system activates. “Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Belov. A brief note from your flight deck: We’ll be making an unplanned landing in Saint Petersburg shortly. Rest assured, all is well on board. As we commence our descent, kindly fasten your seatbelts and secure any loose items. We aim to minimize our stopover duration and will promptly continue our flight to New York.”

Maxim looks unsurprised.

“What is going on?” I hiss.

“A quick touchdown, nothing to worry about.”

I stare at Maxim, waiting for him to say more, but he reaches across me to fasten my seatbelt as if I’m not capable of doing it on my own.

“You smell like coffee,” he murmurs, inhaling my neck. “I like it.”

His close proximity, the way he buries his nose in my neck, sets off a flurry of goosebumps up and down my arm. It deeply irritates me. I scowl at him, and he grins at me.

I’m vaguely aware of the subtle jolt of landing, the wheels kissing the tarmac. When the cabin door opens, it breaks our trance—Maxim and I both pull away, looking everywhere but at each other.

Svetlana strides purposefully down the aisle, her face a cold mask of fury. Her carry-on rattles along behind her, its wheels clicking against the floor. She pauses beside us, her eyes narrowing on me with disgust. ‘Slumming it with fat girls.”

Maxim growls as his hand darts out to collar her wrist in an unyielding grip. “You’ve already lost your job with me. Do you want to lose your life?”

She rakes her eyes accusingly over Maxim before ripping her arm from his grasp. Stupid woman.

“I give your marriage another month before you’re crawling back to me,’ she bites, an ugly twist to her full lips, and then she’s gone.

I keep my eyes on the now vacant doorway. “What is going on?”

“We’re dropping off the trash.”

“Because of me?”

“She should have never been here in the first place. I’m serious, lastochka, no one will ever disrespect you like that.”

Before I can push for him to explain, someone else boards the plane, entering through the door that Svetlana just exited. Warmth rushes through me as I note that this flight attendant is male.

He stows his small carry-on bag in a cabinet near the front of the plane and makes his way towards us. ‘Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Belov. My apologies for any disruption. I’m Gleb, and I’ll be attending to you for the remainder of our journey.’

“Thank you. I’ll let you know if we require anything.” Maxim nods, and taking the hint, Gleb continues on towards the back galley.

Minutes later, the plane begins to accelerate for takeoff. The pilot wasn’t kidding when he announced a brief stop.

I glance over at Maxim—he’s pulled out his phone, and it’s pressed to his ear.

“Why was she working this flight?” he barks out in place of a greeting. Someone responds on the other end of the line, but he’s impatient. “You know better, Nadya,” he admonishes. “I’ll take your word for it that having Svetlana on this flight was an oversight. In the future, no more mistakes like this. Offer Svetlana up to the mayor—she’s no longer an employee of mine.” When he hangs up, he doesn’t look at me. He keeps his eyes straight ahead, focused on the seat in front of him.

A million questions run through my head, like what the hell the call was about. It certainly wouldn’t surprise me if Nadya purposefully scheduled Svetlana on this flight. Jesus.

Maxim may not trust me, but he’s damn possessive of me. If he has developed feelings for me, can I use it to my advantage?

“To be clear,” Maxim’s voice breaks the silence between us. “There is no mistress. When I go off at night, I’m fighting, not fucking. Have you noticed the state of my hands since we started sharing a bed?” He holds up his knuckles for me to see. They are as raw and bruised as any professional fighter’s.

There are few moments in my life when I genuinely don’t know what to say, but this is one of them. I could ask who he’s fighting and why, but honestly, right now I’m not even sure I want to know.

“Okay,” I tell him.

“Okay,” he echoes. A small smile grows on his face, and he goes back to typing on his phone.

I close my eyes, and within moments, I’m teetering on the brink of sleep. Just before I drift off, I’m enveloped in warmth, Maxim’s rich scent. He’s draped his jacket over me, and it’s the closest thing to comfort I’ve felt in a long time.