Page 69 of Shattered Crown

“What did that dough ever do to you?” That voice. Smooth with a rough edge. Deep. Commanding.

My nipples instantly stand at attention. I glance up to see him positioned against the breakfast bar opposite me. He's loosening his tie and shedding his cufflinks. His suit jacket is discarded carelessly onto a stool next to him. Leaning forward, his intense gaze captures mine, making my breath catch.

After Alyona and my brothers left, Maxim locked himself in his office with his men. He’s been barking orders into the phone all day and I’ve mostly steered clear of him, spending the rest of the day in bed, reading. It was hard to say goodbye to my family, and emotion still roils around in my chest.

When will I see them next? Do they feel like I picked Maxim over them? I did what I had to do, what I felt was best, and I hope they can see it that way.

“It’s not cooperating.” I pout.

Maxim might have been caught up in meetings all day, but it doesn’t diminish how delectable he looks. Rolling up his sleeves, he unveils strong, corded forearms. “Like what you see?” he asks, falling in line beside me.

“Would you believe me if I denied it?”

He chuckles, gently taking the roller from me. “Let me give it a shot,” he murmurs.

“What do you know about making pelmeni?”

“A little bit,” he admits, smoothing out the dough far more easily than I managed. “My grandmother raised me. I spent most of my boyhood in her kitchen.”

I freeze, hand halfway to a dish towel. My thoughts drift to that photo I found of a young Maxim. Plump cheeks. Bright eyes. He looked happy. Innocent. Although, peeking at him right now, he’s not the intimidating crime lord, just a man with soft eyes, kneading pelmeni dough.

“Tell me about your grandmother,” I say, hopping on a stool beside him.

“She was actually quite stern.” He chuckles. “You wouldn’t call her a soft woman, but then again, few of her generation could afford to be. The only way they could get through life was by being hard. She was the only constant parental figure in my life. And she did teach me how to make a solid pelmeni.” He pauses for a moment, reaching for the bowl of minced meat mixture that I prepared earlier.

I watch him take a small portion, placing it in the center of a dough circle and then folding it over before pressing the edges together to seal the filling inside.

“If the whole business-oligarch thing doesn’t work out, maybe there's a career for you in the culinary arts.”

His eyebrows raise, and he huffs out a laugh. “Something to consider.”

Handing me some dough, we work side by side, stuffing each dumpling, making sure not to overfill them so they don’t explode when they boil.

“Where was your father? You said he was sometimes around.” It may not be my place to ask, but curiosity gets the best of me.

His face drops at the mention of him, his features settling back into their usual sternness. “My father was in and out of my life, but he lived hard and didn’t take an interest in me until I was old enough to train as an underground fighter.”

“Oh. Is that how you met Oleg?”

“It is. He noticed me in the underground circuit when I was fifteen. Saw an opportunity to make money. He’d bet on my fights and after a while, he decided to bring me on jobs as the muscle. I learned early on what kind of man Oleg was. The last job I went on with him was to collect payment on some guy in his debt. We went to his house that night, but he wasn’t there. His family was.” Maxim shakes his head and curls his lips in disgust. “Let’s just say, Oleg took his pound of flesh from the man’swife and kids.” My stomach turns at the mention of my sadistic father. “That was the last job I ever worked for your father. I cut ties with him as soon as I could.”

I shrug sadly. “You won’t hear any arguments from me. He literally ripped me from my mother’s arms at birth and stole me away. Not because he wanted to raise me, but because he wanted to ruin the Kozlovs. And he nearly did. My mother killed herself not long after he took me away.” Ragged emotion clogs my throat. It’s a while before I can speak again. “I never got to meet her.”

“I’m sorry, lastochka,” Maxim murmurs, his fingers tenderly tracing the contours of my neck as he holds my gaze. “But you got your revenge. You should be proud of taking him down.” His words are laced with unmistakable pride, and his eyes shine with genuine affection.

A wave of emotions floods my heart, leaving it pounding fiercely.

Plus, he’s giving me a once-over. Probably has something to do with his dress shirt I have on, and the fact that I'm wearing nothing else.

He sucks air through his teeth, eyebrows pinching. “You look good in my clothes.”

“Then why do you look so annoyed?” I tease.

“What are you wearing under there?”

I look down, catching my breasts moving freely under the fabric, and feeling the cool air flit between my legs and over my bare pussy. “Nothing.”

His eyes darken. “Are you telling me you’ve been walking around the suite dressed in nothing but my shirt?”

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