Page 2 of Shatter Me

“Dangerous hobby, looking for patterns where none exist.”

“Who said they don’t exist?” I finish my martini but continue to hold the glass. “Though I’m sure a legitimate businessman like yourself has nothing to hide.”

“Everyone has something to hide.” He steps closer, and despite myself, I feel my breath catch. “Even sharp-tongued museum curators with trust funds and designer shoes.”

“The difference is, my secrets don’t make headlines.” I straighten my spine, refusing to be intimidated by his proximity. “Or require quite so many lawyers.”

Dmitri leans in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Speaking of secrets, that dress leaves little to the imagination.”

My skin prickles with awareness. “I thought we were having a civilized conversation about business practices.”

“We can discuss whatever you’d like.” His fingers brush my bare shoulder, a touch so light it could be accidental. “Perhaps somewhere more private?”

“Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Ivanov.” I step back but find myself against the bar.

“Does it?” His eyes darken as he closes the distance. “And what exactly have you heard?”

“That you treat women like objects—pretty things to be collected and displayed.”

“Maybe I just appreciate beauty in all its forms.” His gaze drops to my lips. “And you, Ms. Blackwood, are quite the masterpiece.”

“And you’re quite the pig.” I push against his chest, but he catches my wrist.

“Careful. Some men might take offense to that.”

“Some men should learn to handle rejection better.”

“Hey, Tash!” Alexi appears, slinging an arm around Dmitri’s shoulder. His presence breaks the tension like a splash of cold water. “Dmitri’s not boring you with hostile takeover stories, is he?”

“Alexi.” Dmitri’s jaw tightens as he releases my wrist.

“We were discussing museum curation.” I grab this escape route with both hands.

“Sounds thrilling.” Alexi rolls his eyes. “Almost as exciting as watching paint dry. Come on, Dmitri, Nikolai needs us for the family photos. You can terrify Sofia’s friends later.”

Dmitri shoots me a look that promises this isn’t over but allows his younger brother to steer us away.

“Thanks for the rescue,” I mutter.

Alexi winks. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ve got his attention now—and Dmitri’s like a dog with a bone when something interests him.”

Alexi’s warning settles like ice in my stomach. I’ve heard whispers about Dmitri’s obsessions—how they consume everything in their path. What Dmitri wants, Dmitri gets.

I watch him stride ahead, his shoulders set in that perfect posture that screams old money—though I know it’s learned, not inherited. The photographer arranges the Ivanov brothers near the grand staircase, and their dynamic unfolds like a silent play.

Nikolai stands center, with natural authority in every line of his body. Sofia fits against his side like she was crafted for that exact spot. Erik takes position slightly behind them, scanning the room even during what should be a relaxed family moment. Alexi fidgets with his phone until Dmitri snatches it with a sharp Russian reprimand.

“Ms. Blackwood.” The photographer waves me over. “Next to the bride, please.”

I move to Sofia’s side, catching Dmitri’s gaze as I pass. That calculating look is back like he’s already deciding where I’ll fit in his world. It makes my skin crawl—not entirely unpleasantly but that only makes it even more disturbing.

“Closer together,” the photographer instructs.

Sofia squeezes my hand. “You okay?” she whispers. “You look spooked.”

“Fine.” I smile, very aware of Dmitri’s presence on my other side. “Just wondering what I’ve gotten myself into.”

“Welcome to the family,” Alexi mutters behind me, his tone caught between amusement and warning.

---