Page 48 of Shattered Crown

My cell buzzing in my pocket snaps me back to reality—the reality that she's a cunning little liar, searching for dirt on me, playing detective in a world she barely understands.

I pull away from her inviting mouth and eager tongue, my breaths coming in heated pants. She blinks up at me as if emerging from a trance.

“Don’t think this means you're off the hook,” I manage to say.

Her lips press together, still maintaining her silence. The most likely explanation is that she's gathering information about my business to pass on to her brothers. Whatever her motive, I'm determined to uncover it. She won’t be out of my sight until I figure out her true intentions.

“By the way, you better get packing. We leave for our honeymoon tomorrow.”

She freezes, her narrowed eyes meeting mine. "Honeymoon? That was just a story for the press."

I step back from her and straighten my tie, then adjust my cufflinks. It feels like I'm coming down from a drug high.

“I have business in New York, and there’s not a chance in hell I’m leaving you here alone.” So much for getting a break fromher—I’m going to be glued to her fucking side. “We leave for New York first thing in the morning.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

KIRA

“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?”

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