Page 9 of Shatter Me

“Dance with me.” My tone brooks no argument as I extend my hand. The orchestra shifts into a slow waltz, the timing perfect.

“And if I refuse?” Natasha’s eyes flood with defiance. “Do you wish for a repeat of last time we danced? When I slapped you, Dmitri?”

“That would create a scene. It’s your choice.” I step closer, lowering my voice. “But we both know appearances matter here.”

Electricity shoots through my palm the moment she sets her hand in mine. I escort her to the dance floor, positioning us where Matthews can see his replacement. My hand settles at the small of her back, fingertips grazing bare skin through the dress’s cutout.

“Is this how you usually get your way?” She moves with natural grace, keeping perfect time. “Threats wrapped in velvet?”

“Only when necessary.” I draw her closer than strictly proper, enjoying how her breath catches. “Though I prefer to think of it as mutual benefit.”

“And what benefit do I get?” Her nails dig slightly into my shoulder.

“Besides rescue from unwanted advances?” I spin her smoothly, using the movement to pull her flush against me. “Protection. Status. The pleasure of my company.”

She laughs. “Your ego knows no bounds.”

“It’s not ego if it’s true.” My thumb traces small circles on her back. “You’re trembling.”

“Anger does that.” But her pupils are dilated, betraying her.

“Is that what we’re calling it?” I spin her, my thigh pressing between hers. “Your body tells a different story.”

“My body doesn’t know better.” Her fingers flex against my hand. “My mind does.”

“Your mind overthinks.” I lean close, my lips brushing her ear. “Sometimes instinct knows best.”

She shivers, then stiffens. “And your instincts? To possess? Control?”

“To safeguard what belongs to me.” The words slip out before I can catch them.

“I don’t belong to you.” But she doesn’t pull away.

"Not yet."

The music fades, and Natasha steps back, breaking our connection. Her cheeks are flushed, sending heat coursing through my veins.

“Thank you for the dance.” She smooths her dress, composure returning. “If you’ll excuse me.”

I watch her retreat through the crowd, resisting the temptation to follow. My feet carry me to the bar, where I order a double scotch, neat. The burn of alcohol doesn’t quite match the fire she ignited.

“Well, that was interesting.” Alexi slides onto the stool beside me with a knowing smirk. “Never seen you lose control like that before.”

“I didn’t lose control.” The words come out sharper than intended.

Erik appears on my other side, his silent presence more judgmental than Alexi’s teasing. “The whole room noticed.”

“Noticed what?” I keep my voice level, though my fingers tighten around the glass.

“The electricity.” Alexi steals my drink, taking a sip. “The way you looked ready to break Matthews’ hand. The definitely-not-regulation dance moves.”

“She needed assistance.”

“Since when do you play the white knight?” Erik’s question hits too close to home.

“She’s different.” The admission slips out before I can stop it.

Alexi’s eyebrows shoot up. “Did the mighty Dmitri just admit to having feelings?”

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