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

‘Mr. Belov!’ Friedrich Müller, the auctioneer, lifts his hand to catch my attention and makes a beeline toward me across the room. The auction ended ten minutes ago, and now all the guests are gathered in the gallery, drinking champagne and lamenting about the money they lost in the way rich people do. Or, in my case, the money I made. Because three of my counterfeit bottles sold for a mint. Not that anyone knows they were my bottles. They were entered into the auction by an “anonymous collector”.

“I thought I saw you in the crowd,” Friedrich notes. “So nice of you to join us with your new bride. I noticed she was very active during the auction.”

I swallow the smile that threatens to break out across my face. To say Kira was paddle-happy is an understatement. Right before the auction started, she told me she was going to spend my money like she earned it, and the little minx certainly did that. Not by purchasing my wines, of course, but there were plenty others up for offer. I am now the proud owner of a 1947 Château Cheval Blanc and a 1945 Château Mouton-Rothschild, spending over three hundred thousand a pop.

The press will eat it up. Billionaire’s new wife drops over half a mill on vintage wine.

When I leaned over and asked Kira if she even liked to drink vintage wine, she flashed me a cheeky look and said, “I guess we’ll see.” I had no idea spending my money on her would turn me on so fucking much. But as I’ve learned, everything Kira does turns me on. From the way she laugh-snorts at her own jokes to how she tips her chin defiantly whenever I challenge her.

I sure as hell don’t trust her, but I like her. And that was not in the plan.

“Yes, Kira got swept up in the spirit. It’s because you did such a good job, Friedrich. Speaking of which, I can’t believe you were able to authenticate the bottles of Romanée-Conti. They’re very rare, I understand.”

“Ah, they are. You have to be so careful with forgeries these days. That’s why we put our best investigators on the case. The wine is authentic. As you can see, there is a huge demand for this kind of product.”

“Very impressive,” I agree.

As Friedrich drones on, I lock eyes with my lead guard, Konstantin, stationed near the entrance. He gives me a slight nod, confirming all is good. The rest of my men are fanned out around the room, trying to look like they belong with the wine-and-cheese crowd. Like wolves in sheep’s clothing.

With my wines officially at auction, we’re prepared for trouble with the Black Company. Auctioning it in New York helps—they’ll be reluctant to attack on American soil—but I’m not taking any chances. To the Black Company, this is an official declaration of war.

My gaze snags on Kira politely talking with an older woman. Not the first time today, my heart skips a beat taking her in. She really is a sight to behold. I know she’s too young, too stubborn, and too proud, but she’s burrowed somewhere deep under my skin and I can’t shake this need I have for her.

It’s how she buries into my chest when I hold her during her nightmares, how she cares more about her family than herself, how solemn she looked when I admitted to her that I care for Alyona more than I’ve let on to anyone.

Now, Kira knows my one vulnerability in this life.

I’ve tried meeting with my usual hook-ups but as soon as I get to the door, I spin around and leave, knowing they’d leave me feeling empty and unsatisfied. Since I can’t fuck her out of my system, I’ve resorted to fighting, attending underground fights most nights. My knuckles are raw and ugly—the only reason no one’s commented on them is because people are too polite.

On autopilot, I smile and nod at something Friedrich says, but my eyes are still glued to Kira. She leans in and says something to the older woman. Then she pulls away.

Our eyes lock. She gives me the barest of smiles. Like maybe she doesn’t hate me.

Kira tilts her head and starts walking towards me, and something prickles in my chest. Is it happiness?

No, it can’t be that. I haven’t felt that since Ilya’s death. Since he was tucked into my side at bedtime and insisted I make up superhero stories for him and his stuffed bear. Since the nights when he would look up at me with those eyes full of wonder, seeing me not as the man the world feared but as his father.

Friedrich realizes my attention is elsewhere and follows my line of sight, a small smile tilting his lips when he understands what has captured my attention so thoroughly.

“Ah, that’s the look of a happily married man.”

Right, let him believe what he wants. I’ll just enjoy the view.

When she’s a few feet away from us, a waiter steps in front of her path, offering a glass of champagne. She shakes her head, preparing to pass him but he’s much taller than her, built big and sturdy, and he won’t let her move.

My gut clenches. There’s something odd about their exchange.

Handing Friedrich my glass, I cut through the crowd, beelining towards Kira and the waiter still blocking her path. She looks at him, and something crosses over her face, something that tells me they’re not having a friendly chat.

Motherfucker! I push people aside, desperate to get to her when she curses and raises her knee, slamming it into the waiter’s gut. He stumbles back, clutching his abdomen in pain as a kitchen knife falls from his grip and clatters on the floor.

Before he can recover, I lunge forward, pinning him to the ground, my vision blurring in a red haze of fury. I land a series of punches to his face, his nose crunching under the force of my hits. As his blood pours from his nose, the room explodes into chaos. The auction’s guests flee the place as if it’s on fire while my men tighten rank around me.

Where is Kira?

Because this asshole isn’t working alone, my guess is this is a coordinated attack. My head swivels, searching for her, and… Shit. I find her with her assailant’s knife in hand, crouched low, engaging another so-called waiter.

“Get her out of here,” I yell at one of my men. “If she’s hurt in any way, there will be hell to pay.”

He makes a move towards Kira, but she shoots my guard a fierce glare and he stands down. He’s a head taller with at least a hundred pounds on her, and yet he cowers and backs up.

“I can handle myself!” she insists.

While that may be true, there’s not a chance in hell I’ll let her try. If she was hurt because of me… Shit.

“I’m serious, get her the fuck out of here,” I growl, ignoring her.

Two of my men advance on her, and although she’s fast and capable with a knife, they manage to usher her away.

Sensing my fractured focus, the man beneath me now gets the upper hand, flipping me over. I taste blood as his fist connects with my jaw. A sharp, searing pain shoots through my face, and that only pisses me off further.

We grapple, rolling around on the floor, when I spot a glint of broken glass nearby. With a rush of adrenaline, I twist my body and manage to knock him off me, landing a solid blow to his ribs. He gasps for air but is quick to retaliate with a knee to my gut. I clench and absorb the impact, then use my feet to knock out his legs from under him. He goes down hard, and I prepare to end this once and for all.

Around me, I’m aware of grunts and groans piercing the air as I pick up the shattered glass off the floor. Konstantin steps forward with a gun, but I raise my hand to stop him. This mudak is mine. I take the jagged edge of the glass in my hand and shove it into his neck, stopping short of severing his carotid artery. His face contorts, an agonized cry leaving his lips.

“You’re a dead man and you know it,” I spit. “Tell me who sent you, and we can end this quickly.”

“Fuck you,” he gurgles. Blood spills from his neck where I jam the jagged piece in deeper. He coughs, opening his eyes wide. “You know who sent me, and they won’t stop until you’re dead.” He flashes his teeth, and dread washes over me. “Bonus points for killing your wife.”

His threat ignites the beast inside of me. I twist the shard of glass deep into his artery.

He cries out as blood seeps from his neck like a faucet, coating my hand in sticky warm liquid as I continue to hold him down.

His death is slow and ugly, and I make him pay for daring to hurt Kira. For even accepting the job. When he’s bled out, I drop his lifeless body to the floor, wiping my hands on my pants.

So the Black Company wants to play dirty, go after the woman wearing my wedding ring.

They better be prepared because I’m going to come at those fuckers with a wrath that even the deepest circles of hell haven’t seen.