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

“Has the motherfucker opened his mouth yet?”

Yuri, standing sentry by the door to our interrogation room, stares at me dumbly, about to take a bite of a sandwich. When he registers my presence, he lowers the sandwich and stands. “Not yet, boss. Roman is still working on him.”

I toss my bow tie and cufflinks at the kid and roll up my sleeves.

Yuri’s eyebrows press together. “Isn’t it your wedding … like, now?”

“Just came from the reception.”

“Uhh … congratulations?”

I nod, although I’m not sure what there is to congratulate me on. I broke a promise I made to myself long ago to never marry again. Not when the first time brought a betrayal so deep it tore my world apart.

I push past the soldier into the barren room.

Roman, one of my two right-hand men, turns as I enter and fixes me with a questioning stare—the question being, What the fuck are you doing here on your wedding night?

My unspoken response is simple. Don’t fucking worry about it.

Most men would be taking advantage of their bride, especially one as gorgeous as Kira. Almond-shaped hazel eyes flecked with green and gold, shoulder-length wavy blonde hair, and curves that could drive a man to madness. But as hard as she makes my dick, she’s a means to an end and nothing more.

I approach the man tied to a chair in the center of the room and punch him square in the jaw. The violence soothes the restless energy that’s flowed under my skin since Kira walked down the aisle towards me, looking forlorn and fierce like a wild storm dressed in white.

When I abducted Alyona, Kira was collateral damage because she was hiding out with my daughter. I’d heard of Kira by reputation only, but I had no business with her. My focus was entirely on bringing Alyona into my world, but I misjudged her. Because Alyona doesn’t care about privilege and power. What she wants is a normal life with the man she loves—Leonid Kozlov. Even though I was prepared to force her hand, it was clear she would never accept her place in my world. That she would come to hate me more than she already did, and that hate would poison her soul. I’d already lost one child, my little boy, Ilya—the one bright star in my world. I refused to lose another.

This union has its purpose, and it’s to keep the world focused on the trivial and away from the war brewing with the Black Company.

As much as I’m a legitimate businessman with investments in tech and real estate, I’m also involved in fraud: art, finance, and now luxury wine—a market dominated by the Black Company Triad … until now. The man tied to the chair in front of me is proof that they don’t welcome the competition. Too bad for them because I have no intention of backing down.

My prisoner’s cries bring me back to the present. His blood and spittle cover my white dress shirt, and the smell of copper and dirt filters through the air.

Henri Blanchet looks like he’s been to hell and back. He’s a European wine expert that we paid a stupid amount of money to, to help us craft high-end counterfeit wines. But recently, my hackers figured out that he was double-crossing us. Taking our paycheck and then spilling our secrets to the Black Company. Which is why he’s tied to the chair in front of me. Roman worked him over but kept him alive until I could join.

“Let’s get this fucker talking,” I spit.

Roman walks behind Blanchet and uses a blade to nip the skin of his neck, watching blood drip over his hands. The man groans, fear and hate warring in his expression.

I grab Blanchet by the hair, jerking his head back, forcing him to meet my gaze. ‘Talk now, and I might make your death quick.’ I hoist a drill into view, flicking it on long enough for him to catch my drift. Blanchet’s eyes widen in a silent, horrified plea.

His lips tremble and he starts spilling everything, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush, proving a universal truth—fear is a powerful motivator.

An hour later, one less soul graces God’s green earth and I’m back in my office, pouring a generous two— no, make that four—fingers of whiskey. The fiery liquid disappears quickly, and I’m pouring a second glass as Pavel and Roman enter the room.

These two men have proven their worth, especially after Ilya’s death. They’re my right hands that help me run my empire.

Pavel’s cold gray eyes are sharp against his slicked-back blond hair. His suit, black and impeccably tailored, wasn’t just picked for my wedding earlier—it’s his uniform. I’d wager he even sleeps in Armani. Pavel views the world in absolutes; there’s no gray area for him. You’re either loyal or a traitor. Friend or foe. From the day we met in a boxing studio on the wrong side of town, he’s shown an unwavering loyalty.

Roman, on the other hand, is a study in contrast to Pavel. Not only physically with his deep brown eyes and dark, wavy hair, but his personality too. It’s lighter, friendlier, less intense. Roman wouldn’t be caught dead in a suit; his preference is for leather jackets and washed-out jeans.

Like most opposites, they complement each other well.

Pavel sinks into a high wingback chair across from my desk as Roman pours himself a whiskey.

“So what did you learn in school today, children?” Pavel inquires.

‘Nothing we didn’t suspect already.” I drag my hand down the side of my face. “Blanchet was compromised a few weeks ago, which lines up with when our hackers noticed large sums of money funneled into his account. Money in exchange for information. They wanted to know everything about our operations: the wines we’re crafting, the volume of our output, when we plan on hitting the international auction market.” I thread my fingers in front of me.

Stirring his drink, Roman adds, “Blanchet’s job was also to sabotage our production. Fuck up the labels somehow so the auction houses would find a tiny discrepancy. The Black Company doesn’t want to outdo us. They want to end us.”

“Almost can’t blame them.” Pavel shrugs. “We’re fucking good.”

We can flawlessly reproduce bottles of the finest vintage wines in taste, appearance, and packaging. Wine fraud isn’t my most profitable venture—not by a long shot—but I love nothing more than parting rich people with their money and putting it to better uses.

I rest my elbows on the desk and steeple my fingers under my chin. “His Black Company contact was a guy named Chun Leung. He only ever dealt with Leung in person, which means he’s in Moscow, but Blanchet doesn’t have a number for him. Leung would always call him on a burner phone to set up their in-person meetings.”

Pavel’s leg bounces in a steady beat. ‘I’ll speak to our guys about hacking into Blanchet’s phone, digging out the dates and locations of their meetings.”

I nod. ‘Then we can comb through CCTV footage from around the city to help us identify Leung.’

Our goal is to find the elusive leader of the Black Company. If we can figure out who he is and take him out, the war is ours. His soldiers will be lost without his direction.

“Looks like you’ve married in time for us to go to war.” Roman sits back and leans his hands on his head.

I down the rest of my drink, feeling the usual churning in my gut when it comes to a ring around my finger. But marriage to Kira was too good of an opportunity to pass up—I could use the media attention to distract from the shit storm that is brewing with the Triad. And marrying Kira, Alyona’s best friend, also keeps my daughter in my orbit. Despite impressions to the contrary, I want my daughter to be happy.

Roman chuckles as he flips through images on his phone. His eyes flick up to mine. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen the social media coverage of your wedding.” He angles his phone towards me and imitates a chirpy entertainment reporter. “It seems Russia’s most eligible bachelor has been swept off his feet by a half-American beauty, leaving the nation breathless. Everyone wants to know more about the most surprising love story of the year.”

I give Roman a dry look. ‘Remember, there’s a loaded gun under this desk and I’m not shy about using it.’

Pavel scoffs. “Kira barely said yes to you at the altar today.”

Her flushed cheeks and clenched fists revealed her hesitation, even as she tried to appear brave. Twenty-five years old is a child, even if she doesn’t look like one with curves for days. Curves that I need to put out of my head if I know what’s good for me.

I raise an eyebrow at Pavel. “Is there something you want to say?”

“Nothing I haven’t said before.”

Pavel doesn’t trust Kira’s motivations. Despite her insistence that she wants the power that comes with my last name, it’s hardly the full story. As part of the Kozlov Bratva, she had money, power, and privilege. Not at my level, but she wasn’t exactly struggling. Either she’s a martyr who wants to save Alyona from her big bad father, or she has ulterior motives. Whatever her reason, it doesn’t matter—she’s in my world now, and I hold the reins.

“Like I’ve said, I don’t trust the little minx either. It’s why I’ll need one of you to serve as her personal bodyguard.”

“No, fucking thank you,” Pavel says at the same time as Roman says, “That’ll be a hard pass.”

I blow out a breath. “It wasn’t a question. We need eyes on her, and you two are the only ones I trust. I’m not arguing the issue, so work it out.”

“Fuck me!” Roman exclaims after a particularly aggressive rock, paper, scissor game. Despite both of them being only five years younger than my forty-three, I swear sometimes they act like boys.

Roman slumps down on the couch. “I’ve been demoted.”

Pavel smirks. “Good. Maybe it will teach you some humility.” Turning to me, Pavel says, “You’ll need to put a lock on her room at night or I guarantee she’ll slit your throat in your sleep.”

I grin at that. “No need. She’ll sleep in my bed. It’s the best way to keep a close eye on her.” It’s also going to be distracting as fuck, but I refuse to dwell on that.

“In your bed?” Roman’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Might as well leave a dagger under her pillow.”

My jaw tightens. ‘I’m quite sure I can defend myself against a woman.’

She’s built for fucking, not fighting. But I won’t be doing either. What Kira doesn’t know yet is that I have no intention of bringing another child into this world. I’ve only let her believe I want an heir to keep her in line.

“Don’t underestimate her, that’s all I’m saying.” Pavel runs a hand through his short hair. “Her father did, and it didn’t end well for him.”

“Please say you’re not comparing me to Oleg Antonov. I’ll take that as a grave insult.”

Pavel raises his hands. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Just a friendly reminder to sleep with one eye open.”

Standing up, I signal the end of the discussion. I point at Pavel. ‘You handle the Black Company. I’ll handle my wife.”