Page 21 of Shatter Me

I hate him. I hate how he can affect me like this and then just leave. I hate how my body still hums from his touch and can still taste him on my lips. Most of all, I hate how desperately I want him to return and finish what he started.

The worst part is knowing he planned this, which leaves me wanting, frustrated, and thinking of him. It’s another calculated move in whatever game he’s playing.

My reflection in the window shows exactly what he’s done to me—lips swollen from his kisses, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with lingering desire. I look thoroughly debauched, and he looks... perfect. Untouchable.

God, I want to mess up that perfect control of his. Want to make him feel as undone as I do right now. The thought sends another wave of heat through me, and I press my thighs together, cursing him silently.

9

DMITRI

Idrum my fingers on the mahogany desk, watching Nikolai pace near my office window. The sunset casts long shadows across his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw.

“Three separate threats this week.” Nikolai’s voice carries the weight of responsibility. “The Lebedevs are getting bold.”

“Maybe if someone wasn’t playing curator...” Alexi sprawls in the leather chair across from me, his laptop balanced precariously on his knees. His fingers dance across the keyboard without looking. “Too busy admiring paintings to notice the sharks circling.”

My hand stills. “Watch yourself, little brother.”

“What? It’s true. When was the last time you attended a proper meeting? You’re at that museum more than your own office.” Alexi’s eyes flick up, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Though I doubt it’s the art holding your attention.”

I growl, glaring at my brother.

“Dmitri.” Nikolai’s voice carries a warning.

I flex my hand. “The museum serves its purpose. We need legitimate channels?—”

“For laundering or for fucking the curator?” Alexi dodges the paperweight I hurl at his head. It crashes into the wall behind him.

“Enough.” I rise, looming over his sprawled form. “The museum is business. Nothing more.”

“Right.” Alexi’s smirk widens. “That’s why you’ve memorized her schedule. The reason you hijacked the security feeds. Why you?—”

“I said enough.” The words come out as a growl.

Nikolai clears his throat. “Alexi has a point. You’re distracted. The Lebedevs will exploit any weakness.”

I sink back into my chair, the familiar weight of control slipping. They’re right. Natasha consumes too many of my thoughts. Her defiance. Her passion. The way she shattered for me against that bookshelf...

“Fine.” I pull up the latest threat assessment on my tablet. “Walk me through what we know.”

But even as Nikolai begins his briefing, my mind drifts to tomorrow’s board meeting. To green eyes that see too much. To the dangerous game I can’t stop playing.

“A surgical strike.” Erik’s voice cuts through the tension. He stands from his position against the wall, shoulders squared. “Take out their key players. Send a message.”

I shake my head. “We’ve maintained equilibrium with the Lebedevs for seven years. War would destabilize everything we’ve built.”

“They’re already destabilizing it,” Erik counters, his military precision bleeding into each word. “Three threats in a week isn’t testing waters—it’s preparation for something bigger.”

“Erik’s right,” Nikolai adds. “They’re emboldened. Probably think we’ve gone soft with all our legitimate ventures.”

I tighten my grasp on my whiskey glass. The amber liquid catches the dying sunlight. “Going to war over threats is exactly what they want. It would give them justification to move against us openly.”

“Better than waiting for them to strike first.” Erik’s jaw tightens. “I still have contacts in Spetsnaz. We could make it look like internal power struggles.”

“No.” The word comes out sharper than intended. “We’re not starting a war in this city. Not when we’ve finally established proper channels for?—”

“For what?” Alexi cuts in. “Your little museum project? Face it, brother. They’re pushing because they think you’ve lost your edge.”

---