Page 76 of Shatter Me

Nikolai pokes his head into my office. "What's got you in such a good mood?"

I school my features, but it's too late. He's already seen.

"Nothing that concerns you," I say, sliding my phone face-down on the desk.

"Right." He smirks. "Tell Tash I said hello."

I don't dignify that with a response, but my brother's teasing doesn't bother me like it used to. Everything feels lighter now that I don't have to maintain the perfect facade around her. Even my control doesn't feel as rigid.

My phone buzzes again.

Lunch?

Can't today. I’ve got a meeting with Erik about the shipping manifests.

Dinner then? That new French place opened on 5th Avenue.

I consider my schedule. The Lebedev situation still demands attention, but I want to prioritize something else for once—someone else.

I'll pick you up at 7

I text back.

Three dots appear as she types.

Perfect. Don't be late, Ivanov.

When am I ever late?

I reply because we both know I'm pathologically early for everything.

The familiar banter settles something in my chest. This is how we should be, easy, natural. No more lies between us.

I settle into my chair at the head of the conference table, my thoughts clearer than they’ve been in weeks. The weight of hiding things from Natasha had been more burdensome than I'd realized.

Viktor takes his usual spot to my left, his weathered face grim as he reviews the latest weapons shipment reports. Katya Petrova adjusts her silver pendant—a reminder of her efficient handling of problematic officials. Marcus Chen's dragon tattoo peeks above his collar as he shuffles through Pacific shipping manifests.

Alexi sprawls in his chair, tablet in hand, while Nikolai maintains his perfect posture across from me. The empty seat where Erik should be draws my attention. My brother's absence speaks volumes about his current preoccupation with Katarina Lebedev.

"Updates," I command, and the room snaps to attention.

"Pacific routes are clear," Marcus reports. "Three new shipping lanes established."

Katya's red lips curve. "The Amsterdam gallery is ready for the next acquisition. Papers are perfect."

I nod, processing each report with renewed focus. I won't have to split my attention between business and wondering how to keep Tash in the dark. The truth has simplified things considerably.

"Erik's absence is noted," Nikolai states, his tone carefully neutral.

"He's handling other matters," I reply. We all know what, or rather who, those matters involve. I understand his fixation more than I'd like to admit. These women have a way of getting under our skin.

Viktor clears his throat. "Speaking of Lebedev matters..."

I raise my hand, cutting him off. "We'll discuss that privately." Some details of our operation against Igor Lebedev are confidential.

I study Viktor's weathered face, noting the tension in his jaw. He's been with us since before Father died, one of the few who stayed loyal through everything. The oath he took to our family wasn't just words—it's carved into his bones.

Marcus and Katya are excellent at what they do. Marcus keeps our Pacific routes running smoothly, while Katya's network of art forgers and thieves is unmatched. But they're contractors, not family. Not bratva.

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