Page 82 of Shattered Crown

"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, shewilltreat 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.

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