Page 4 of Shatter Me

Her shoulders tense at his dismissal, but she persists. “I’ve always been fascinated by field medicine. The pressure, the split-second decisions...”

“You won’t get much conversation from him,” I interrupt, swirling my whiskey. “Erik saves his words for emergencies.”

She shoots me a sharp look. “Still better company than you.”

“And yet you can’t stop stealing glances at me.” I lean back, enjoying how her cheeks turn a pretty pink. “Even when pretending to be fascinated by my brother’s medical expertise.”

“I’m not—” She cuts herself off, fingers tightening around her champagne glass stem. “You really think everyone’s dying for your attention, don’t you?”

“No. Just the ones who protest too much.”

Erik stands abruptly, likely spotting something that requires his attention. Natasha watches him go with poorly concealed disappointment.

“Looks like it’s just us now.” I shift closer. “Unless you’d like to try engaging Alexi in conversation about cryptocurrency?”

“I’d rather not.” But there’s a hint of a smile playing at her lips.

“Such hostility. And here I thought us Ivanovs were your friends.”

“Friends?” She snickers, her amusement bitter. “Is that what you call it when you stalk someone’s entire fashion history?”

“Just showing interest in your passions. Isn’t that what friends do?”

Her eyes meet mine. “We’re not friends, Dmitri. We’re not anything.”

“Dance with me,” I say, standing and offering my hand. The orchestra has shifted to a slower, more intimate song.

Her eyes widen slightly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Come now,” Alexi leans forward, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “One dance won’t kill you. Though with Dmitri, who knows?”

“Really not helping,” she mutters, but there’s an uptick at the corner of her mouth.

“Tash!” Sofia approaches our table, flushed from dancing with Nikolai. “Why aren’t you dancing? The music’s perfect.”

“I was declining your brother-in-law’s invitation, actually.”

Sofia’s eyes dart between us, and I recognize that matchmaking gleam. “Oh, but you must! Dmitri’s an excellent dancer. One dance won’t hurt.”

I extend my hand, watching her resolve crumble under the combined pressure. Her fingers twitch in her lap.

“Fine. One dance.” She places her hand in mine. “Only because you’re all insufferable.”

I help her to her feet, noting how she tries to maintain maximum distance even as I pull her to the dance floor. Her pulse races when my fingers rest against her wrist.

“Relax,” I croon as I draw her into position. “I don’t bite—usually.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.” She allows me to pull her closer, her body tense against mine.

“You know,” I adjust my grip on her waist, “for someone who claims not to be intimidated, you’re awfully rigid.”

“I don’t enjoy being manipulated onto dance floors.”

“Is that what happened? I thought you made the choice yourself.”

Her eyes narrow. “We both know choice had nothing to do with it.”

I guide her through a turn, enjoying how perfectly she follows despite her protests. “There’s always a choice, Natasha. You’re angry because you chose to say yes.”

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