KIRA
An hour later,accompanied by Roman and a small contingent of
Maxim's men, I arrive at the high-end boutique in central Moscow Liza
recommended.
Despite the size of my entourage, I bet Liza has come up with a way for
us to talk privately. She’s the think-ahead type, balancing my spontaneity.My aunt used to tell me, "You leap without looking, and Liza's there to build the bridge under your feet.” While I could be impulsive, Liza’s always been my level-headed anchor—the one who organized our group study sessions at school and wouldn’t let me drink too much at parties
We enter the store to find Liza waiting. Attentive assistants flit about
her, and with a sigh of relief, I realize she had the foresight to close the
store to the public.
“Kira.” She rises and wraps her arms around me, before pulling back
and taking in the handsome man by my side. Her eyebrows raise in a silent
question.
“Liza, this is Roman Vasiliev, one of Maxim’s—” I’m about to say
guard dogs when he steps forward, his eyes running curiously over my
friend.
“An associate of Maxim’s,” is all he says. “And now personal guard to
Mrs. Belov.”
“Nope. Please never call me that again,” I hiss.
He ignores me completely. “And this is the lovely Elizaveta Ivanova, I
take it.”
He sticks his hand out in greeting, and Liza eyes it like it’s a dead fish
before giving it a cursory shake.
“I’m acquainted with your father and fiancé,” he adds. “But I only know
you by reputation.”
Liza's eyes narrow. “Yes, well, don’t believe everything you hear.”
When I tilt my head at Liza, she gives me a subtle shake of her head.
Oh-kay. Clearly, I’ve been out of the gossip loop in this city for far too long.
"So, shall we get to shopping?” Roman rubs his hands together like he’s
been waiting all day for the pleasure of retail therapy.
I pull myself to my full height of five feet, two inches. “We will. As in,
Liza and myself. I suggest you and your men go grab some coffee or the
blood of angels, whatever it is that you drink, and leave us in peace.”
“No can do.” He shrugs apologetically. “My job is to keep you safe
from harm, and I can’t do that on a coffee break.”
When I bristle at his words, Liza mumbles under her breath, “Who’s
going to keep you safe when you piss off Kira?”
Roman can’t be swayed. I’m sure Maxim gave him explicit instructions
to watch my every move—whether to keep me safe or because he doesn’t
trust me. Likely both. But it’s clear Roman isn’t going anywhere.
I gesture around us. “Do what you need to. We have some shopping to
do.”
Roman settles on one of the nearby settees, being fawned over by the
female staff desperate to offer him a cappuccino, while his men fan out throughout the store.
Liza pulls me deeper into the boutique, where the evening wear is hung
in elegant rows. When we’re out of earshot, she points at my wedding ring
and whisper-hisses, “Explain!”
“Keep it down,” I say, busying my hands with rummaging through the
racks.
When one of the many store assistants comes over, I scare them away
with a sharp shake of my head. I dare a glimpse upwards and see Roman is
already on his phone while the other guards are out of earshot. So I tell Liza
exactly how and why I got myself into this mess.
She scrunches her forehead. "I still don't understand why you had to
marry him.”
“It was the only way to get close enough to figure out what role he
actually played in Masha’s murder,” I whisper. “And to get my revenge if it
comes to that.”
YOU ARE READING
Shattered Crown
RomanceHe needs a wife. I need revenge. To the world, Maxim Belov is a self-made billionaire with charm as deep as his pockets. But strip away the politician's smile and crisp Armani suits, and you'll find the puppetmaster commanding Moscow's underworld-th...
