Page 52 of Shattered Crown

My pulse whooshes in my ears. I’m used to the Maxim that is as cold as ice, untouched by human emotion unlike the rest of us mere mortals. I’m not used to the flesh-and-blood man who stands here, admitting his mistakes.

All at once, the pieces fall into place. “You married me to keep Alyona in your life?”

There’s nothing vulnerable about Maxim, but right now, the tiniest flare of something tender crosses his expression. “I’m not completely dead inside, Kira. She’s my daughter, my blood… I care for her, even if the feeling isn’t reciprocated.”

I think about what Liza told me, the rumors that Maxim may have had a kid with his first wife. The one he killed. With Maxim anything is possible, but I can't shake the sense that if there had been a child—a part of him—he would have fought with everything he had to keep them safe, to keep them close.

“And you didn’t want Aly to spend her whole life hating you … which she totally would have, by the way.”

“That, and your brothers are very persuasive.” His expression turns wistful. “Leo would burn down the world for her. He'll lay down his life to protect her. I knew she would be safe with him … and happy.”

Maxim is a force, all commanding masculine energy and dominance, so I’m momentarily stunned by this unexpected softness. I don’t know how to feel about it. It doesn’t mean he’s not a monster. He is. But even monsters love their kids.

He clears his throat and looks at his watch. “We should go.”

I shake my head. I had somehow forgotten all about the auction. “Right.”

“Kira?”

“Yes.” I look up at him.

“You look beautiful.” His words are nearly a whisper as his fingers brush through my hair, grazing my neck before he drops his hand to his side.

I take a step back and straighten. I refuse to be put under his spell by this new version of Maxim. He’s still the enemy. I’m still dead-set on taking him down.

“Thank you,” I reply without emotion. “Now, let’s go so I can spend all your money at this auction.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

MAXIM

"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 1947Château 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 wasnotin 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. Shereally 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.

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