Page 7 of Shatter Me

“Ms. Blackwood.” Dmitri’s voice freezes me in place. “A moment?”

The last board member closes the door behind them, leaving us alone. The room feels smaller somehow, charged with an energy that makes my skin prickle.

“If you’re going to gloat?—”

“You impressed me today.” He steps closer, loosening his tie. “Not many people stand up to me like that.”

“I wasn’t standing up to you. I was doing my job.” I back up until I hit the table. “The collection?—”

“The collection is important, yes.” His eyes sweep to my lips. “But we both know this was about more than art.”

My cheeks flush with warmth. “Everything isn’t about power games, Mr. Ivanov.”

“Dmitri.” He places his hands on the table, one on either side of me. Not touching me, but caging me in. “And you’re wrong. Everything is about power.”

My breath catches. This close, I can smell his cologne and see the faint scar near his temple. “Then you should know I don’t respond well to intimidation.”

“No?” His lips curve. “What do you respond to, Natasha?”

The tone he uses for my full name sends shivers down my spine. I press myself harder into the cool wood behind me, trying to overcome the urge to touch him.

“Respect,” I manage. “Which you showed remarkably little of today.”

“On the contrary.” He leans closer, his breath ghosting my ear. “Your passion, your defiance... they command respect. Even when I disagree with your methods.”

“And what about your methods? Using your money to manipulate?—”

“To protect what’s mine.” His gaze drops to my lips. “We’re not so different, you and I. We both fight for what we want.”

The air between us crackles with tension. I should push him away and maintain professional distance. Instead, I’m drawn into his orbit like a meteor caught in gravity’s pull.

His proximity muddles my thoughts, but I force steel into my voice. “What exactly do you want, Dmitri?”

“Right now?” His fingers caress my hip, feather-light. “I want to know if you’re this passionate about everything.”

“Only things worth fighting for.” I hate how breathy my voice sounds.

“And what am I worth fighting for... or against?” His lips curve into a devastating smile.

My pulse thunders. “You’re worth running from.”

“And yet, here you remain.” His thumb traces small circles on my hip. “Not running.”

“I don’t run, Mr. Ivanov, no matter how much fear I might feel.”

“No fear in your eyes right now, Natasha.” His voice drops an octave. “There’s something else entirely.”

The door handle clicks. We spring apart as Sarah pokes her head in. “Ms. Blackwood? Your two o’clock is waiting.”

“Coming.” I gather my papers, avoiding Dmitri’s gaze.

I practically run from the boardroom. What the hell was I thinking? Getting that close to him, letting him touch me? The man is dangerous—I’ve warned Sofia about his family enough times to know better.

But God, the way he looked at me...

No. No, no, no. I stab the elevator button harder than necessary. I need to get my head straight. Focus on work. Forget how his fingers felt, how his cologne lingered...

Dammit.

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