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

‘As you can see, the shipping routes are secure and operating at maximum efficiency now that we’ve doubled security,’ Viktor addresses me, pointing to a map spread across the table.

I listen intently, my gaze sweeping over my top lieutenants assembled here in the security of my home. It’s a tactical decision—better to have them within these walls discussing the finer details of our operations than meeting off-site.

While we’re reviewing financial projections, the door bursts open with a clamor.

‘Maxim!’ Kira’s voice, sharp and irritated, slices through the room.

She stands in the doorway, clad in an oversized shirt splattered with streaks of paint, the hem barely grazing her thighs. Beneath it, barely-there short-shorts peek out, clinging to her curves. The shirt hangs off one shoulder, revealing a swath of creamy skin, and it’s apparent from the way the fabric moves against her that she hasn’t bothered with a bra.

The room, a moment ago filled with the hum of business, falls into abrupt silence, all attention snapping towards Kira.

Moments later, Nadya appears behind her, her face etched with fury.

‘I was painting the new sitting room,” Kira starts, “and Nadya barges in, saying it’s ‘shameful’ for your wife to be doing such work!’ She shoots Nadya a death glare, completely unaware of the captivated male audience around the table. Turning her fiery gaze towards me, she demands, ‘Can you please tell this witch to keep her opinions to herself and⁠—”

‘Eyes off my wife, now!’ I cut her off, my blood boiling.

The men around the table instantly avert their gazes—some to the floor, others to the documents in front of them—a mix of embarrassment and fear etched on their faces.

In a swift motion, I grab my jacket from the back of my chair and drape it over Kira’s shoulders. Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t fight me further.

‘My office. Both of you,’ I say through gritted teeth.

Without another word, I grab Kira’s arm and drag her down the hall and into my office, with Nadya following close behind. Once inside, I release Kira and turn to face her, my frustration barely contained.

“Don’t you ever leave our bedroom looking like that again,” I growl.

Her jaw drops. “I was painting. What do you want me to wear?” Kira shoots back. “If you don’t want me to interrupt your meetings, do a better job of keeping your attack dog on a leash. I’m sick of her treating me like your whore!”

Outrage sharpens Nadya’s features. ‘Well, if you stopped parading around like a whore, maybe I wouldn’t need to treat you like one!’ Her words are harsh and unapologetic. “Maxim needs a proper wife, not one who acts like a street artist, covered in paint and lacking any sense of decorum.”

Something inside me snaps. ‘What did you say to my wife?’

A flicker of alarm crosses Nadya’s features. ‘Forgive me. I spoke out of turn. I only want what’s best for you.”

I run my tongue over my upper teeth. “If that were true, you’d show my wife the respect she deserves, something I’ve already asked you to do,” I point out firmly.

At our first meeting after returning from New York, I made it clear to Nadya that her behavior towards Kira needed to change.

What I didn’t tell Nadya is Kira’s real motivation for marrying me and how I’m going to help her avenge Masha’s death. We’re keeping that piece of information on a need-to-know-only basis, which means the only ones who know about it are Roman and Pavel.

‘Of course, Maxim.” Nadya bows her head slightly.

I’m not fooled by her act. There’s no real remorse there, which pisses me off.

“I meant no disrespect to you or’ — Nadya pauses, her voice straining as she forces out the next words — ‘your wife.’

‘We’ll discuss this later,’ I say sharply, my firm gaze on Nadya, letting her know that this conversation is far from over. Even if this marriage is an arrangement, she will treat Kira with the respect due to the woman who wears my ring.

Nadya departs without another look, leaving us in uneasy silence.

“Nadya has a talent for drama. Don’t let her get to you,’ I say to diffuse the situation. I know Kira thinks Nadya’s in love with me, but that’s crazy. Her affection is driven by an overprotective maternal instinct, nothing more.

“Drama? That’s an understatement. She doesn’t trust me because I tried to take down my father.” Her shoulders slump on an exhale. “Does she think I’m going to betray you like … like your first wife did?’

I close my eyes briefly, attempting to block out the rush of pain her words unleash. ‘Something like that,’ I admit, my voice hoarse.

Kira lifts her hand to my cheek. Her touch is gentle, almost tentative. ‘You can talk to me, you know. I’m here for you, and not just because of this arrangement,’ she says softly.

For a moment, I’m tempted to open up, to tell her everything. But the scars run deep, and the walls I’ve built around my past are thick and high. So, instead, I focus on the much more immediate issue—the one growing in my pants.

I reach out and gently grasp Kira’s jaw, angling her face towards mine. My thumb lightly skims over her bottom lip as I meet her eyes. ‘I understand Nadya was out of line, and I will deal with her,’ I vow calmly. ‘But I already warned you to never let my men see you dressed like this.” I grab her ass cheeks, my hands kneading the flesh I consider mine. “I’m going to have to kill everyone in that room now.”

Kira’s face drops. “No, Maxim, please don’t.”

“Maybe I’ll only blind them.” I release a heavy sigh. “Unless you can convince me otherwise.”

Her eyes narrow on me. “And what could I do to convince you otherwise?” She languidly licks her lips, calling my attention to her plush mouth.

I sit down in my office chair and push out so she has plenty of room to kneel in front of me. “I’m sure you can think of something.”

Heat blasts down my spine as she pulls her T-shirt off, flings it aside, and drops to her knees. She holds eye contact as she undoes my pants and pushes them down along with my boxer briefs, far enough down to free my cock. She runs her tongue over my length a few times, taunting me with her little licks.

“Put it in your mouth,” I snap.

The moment her lips wrap around my stiff length, I release a guttural groan. Jesus, this woman. I reach down, grab her by the roots of her hair, and take control, thrusting into her warm, eager mouth. She hums her approval, and it sends arrows of pleasure straight to my balls.

As she takes me deep, I delight in the view of messy blonde hair bobbing up and down over my lap. It’s like she’s made for me, fashioned exactly how I like. Strong but soft. Demanding but submissive.

Kira pulls up, her mouth still coated with wetness from my arousal and her lazy, sloppy sucking. “Fuck my mouth. Use me how you need me.”

“You want it rough?” I ask, pushing a strand of hair back from her face. “You want me to ruin your beautiful throat?”

She nods eagerly, stroking my cock with one hand.

I stand up, maintaining my grip on her hair to help me angle her mouth exactly where I need it. “Stay on your knees for me.”

I take a moment to admire her body. Lush, curvy, and perfect. Thick thighs and a tapered waist. Could any man dream of more?

“Open,” I demand, pulling out and rubbing the head of my cock along her lips, loving how ruined and depraved she looks with my tip trailing over her mouth. The moment she opens for me, I thrust between her lips, electric heat pumping through my veins as I feel her tongue slide across the underside of my dick. “Good girl. Keep your eyes on me.”

I thrust deeper in her throat, the gagging sounds she makes as she struggles to take all of me music to my ears. She loves it too. Her little moans around my cock tell me everything I need to know.

“That’s right, you’re doing so good letting me fuck your throat.”

Tears slip past her lashes and her eyes widen, but I don’t let up. I smile down at her, admiring the view of her breasts bouncing and her mouth stretched. The whole time, she keeps her eyes glued to mine as if looking at me for approval.

“So good. Swallow around me. Let me feel your throat hug me tight.” I use her hair like a leash, pulling her in so close that my pelvis brushes her nose, and saliva drips down her chin.

My God. This is perfection. She’s so determined, my little hellcat.

I can tell that she’s struggling. I’m a lot for her, especially in this position, but she doesn’t give up. Watching her fight to breathe through her nose and swallow every inch of me is all that I need to send me toppling over the edge. My balls tighten, and my thrusts are uneven and desperate, pistoning in and out of her mouth.

“You’re such a good girl, making me come so hard with that perfect mouth. Look at me, baby.”

Even with the tears in her eyes, she holds eye contact.

“I am going to give you my cum now, and you’re going to drink down every drop.” My cock swells and I shout out my release, my grip on her hair unforgiving as my cum spills, coating the back of her throat.

She gags, and for a minute, I’m not sure she’s going to be able to finish the job, but she steadies herself and does so fucking well. My lips curl as she smiles up at me, her pretty face looking wrecked and perfect.

“You couldn’t look more beautiful right now.” My thumb catches a dribble of cum that leaks from the side of her mouth, and I bring the bead of liquid up to my lips, savoring the taste. “Jesus, woman, you’re going to be my downfall.’

“I think the same thing could be said of you. I’m not sure my jaw will ever be the same.”

I pull her onto her feet and bring her against my chest. “You’ll tell me if I’m too rough with you.”

“I think you know I like it rough.”

I almost wish she didn’t. Then, she wouldn’t be so perfect for me and I wouldn’t be so fucked. Because as it is, I’m addicted to her little moans, how her thick thighs wrap around my waist gripping me tight, the way her pussy spasms around my cock when I command her to come.

Shit. How did I get here?

Pavel’s words from the other day are still front and center in my mind. She’s a distraction, a liability. My head’s not in the game. And he’s right—my dominion is a solitary one. A realm for a king, not designed for a queen.

I don’t know what our future holds, but I do know right now she’s here in my arms and I’m not turning away from her. Not yet.

If Kira senses my spinning thoughts, she doesn’t let on. Instead, she reaches for her T-shirt and pulls it over her head. Once she’s dressed, I sit back down in my office chair and pull her into my lap.

“Don’t you have to rejoin your meeting?” she asks.

“They’ll wait. I have something to tell you,” I say.

She lifts her head to look my way.

“Pavel’s been looking into Masha’s situation on my orders. There’s something at the site of her murder that belonged to me.”

“What does that mean?” Her eyebrows press together as she studies me closely.

“It was an engraved lighter, monogrammed with my initials and a design. A gift from my first wife. I had thrown it out a long time ago. No idea how it ended up at the warehouse where Masha was taken. Unless someone wanted to connect me to her murder.”

I debated telling Kira any of this because I don’t actually have anything concrete. More than that, will she doubt my innocence in connection to her aunt’s death? But I need to be honest with her, even if I have no real answers.

Kira’s body tenses. ‘Who has access to your trash? Only people who live here,’ she points out.

I run a thumb over my lips. She’s not wrong. The estate is not easy for outsiders to access. Then again, my enemies have been known to go to great lengths to hurt me. Paying off a sanitation worker to go through my trash wouldn’t be unheard of. But Masha’s murder was inconsequential in the lives of my associates. Why would someone go to any lengths to try and connect me with a death that, sadly, most people didn’t give a shit about?

I brush a hand through her hair. “Until we fit all the pieces of the puzzle together, nothing will make sense. Give it time.”

“I can help,” she says. “Don’t you think I have a right to be involved in this?”

“You do,” I agree, kissing her neck. “But I need your big sexy brain for something else first.”

She purses her lips. “What is that?”

“We’ve been questioning a high-ranking member of the Black Company for over a week, but the man is a steel trap. Refusing to talk, no matter what we do to him. And we’ve done a hell of a lot.” With two fingers, I angle her chin towards me so she can’t look away. “Think you could get him to spill his secrets?”

She sits up with sudden interest. “I can try. What information do you need?”

“We need to find out who leads the Black Company. They remain hidden, but it’s widely believed that their leader is the brains of the operation. If we can capture them, we’ll have a chance at bringing down the Triad.”

She angles her head. “What makes you think I could break him if you haven’t been able to?”

I trail my fingers down her cheek. “Something tells me you could do whatever you put your mind to.”

She looks wary. “You think Roman and Pavel would appreciate me stepping in? I don’t think so.”

‘It’s not their decision to make, it’s mine. I’m aware of your potential, and it’s time they realized it as well.”

Her fingertips dance over the lapel of my suit, avoiding my gaze like there’s something she wants to say but can’t get it out. “Why did you ask Pavel to look into my aunt? Why not ask Roman, or do it yourself?”

“Because he’s the best,” I admit simply. “He’s damn good at what he does. If he weren’t unhinged, he’d be a top-notch detective.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t like me. I bet he thinks chasing down my aunt’s killer is a waste of his time.”

I swipe a piece of hair from her face. “Pavel doesn’t like anyone. It’s his way of keeping the world at arm’s length. It happens when your childhood is painful. You learn to build walls around your heart, protecting it from the potential pain the world might inflict again.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means some of us are broken, and it’s impossible to put us back together.” I don’t know if I’m talking about Pavel or myself now. But she should know I’m just as damaged as my friend. Once you lose your reason for living, you walk around the world half a person.

Kira presses her forehead into mine. “I don’t think you’re broken,” she whispers against my lips.

My heart squeezes. If that’s the case, she sees a different man than the one I see reflected back at me in the mirror.

“We’ve all had our life bruises and scrapes, but you still get up and fight every day.”

I run my hand through her hair, fingers weaving gently through the strands. I don’t know what to make of this little hurricane that tore into my life and turned everything upside down. She makes me feel something—a spark, an energy. Something I haven’t felt in a long time.

I bury my face in her neck. “You’re the fighter,” I insist. “You stood up to your father when no one else was willing to put him in his place. You fought like hell for a place alongside your brothers, and you never gave up trying to right your aunt’s death. There’s not many like you.”

“Such high praise,” she breathes out. “You should be careful, Maxim Belov, or I might mistake your intentions.” As soon as the words slip out, she pauses, a hint of regret in her voice. “I didn’t mean anything by that.”

My arms tighten around her, and I choose my words carefully. “Are you ready to help me break this Black Company motherfucker?”

There’s a pause, and I think maybe she can see through all the hardened layers that protect my heart. But she just rests her chin on my chest and looks at me with determination.

“Let’s do it.”