Page 6 of Plus-Size Curves for the Bratva

"Of course she is," Vladimir chuckles softly. "She's marrying you, a complete stranger, after all."

But this isn't mere nerves. As Natalia draws closer, I can see the way her chest rises and falls with rapid, shallow breaths. Her eyes dart around, never quite meeting mine. This is a woman on the verge of panic.

My mind races. Is she truly so reluctant? The thought shouldn't bother me, but it does. I find myself wanting to reach out, to reassure her somehow. But we're strangers, bound by duty.

At last, she reaches the altar. Immediately, I extend my hand, taking her soft, small hand in mine. Nikolai closes my palm around hers, and gives us a gentle pat, before offering me a small nod and making way to his seat. Behind Natalia, Sofia and her best friends wipe away soft tears.

I can't tear my eyes away from Natalia as she stands beside me, her gaze fixed firmly on the ground. The scent of jasmine wafts from her, intoxicating and sweet.

"We are gathered here today…" the officiant begins, but his words fade into the background as I study my bride's profile.

I lean in slightly, keeping my voice low. "Are you alright?"

Natalia's head snaps up, those wide brown eyes finally meeting mine. There's a flash of… something. Shock? Defiance? It's gone before I can place it.

"I'm fine," she says firmly, now looking up straight at the priest. “Living the dream, wouldn’t you say?” she adds under her breath.

Her unexpected sass catches me off guard, and I find myself fighting back a smile. There's more to this woman than meets the eye, and I'm suddenly desperate to know everything about her.

Beside Natalia, Sofia gives me a subtle wink. I can practically hear her voice: "I told you she'd be interesting."

"The joining of the Zolotov and Orlov families," the officiant intones, "marks a new era of prosperity and cooperation."

I feel Natalia stand stiffer beside me. Glancing down, I notice her fingers curled into tight fists, knuckles white against the delicate lace of her gown. Without thinking, I reach out, gently covering her hand with mine. She startles at the contact, those expressive brown eyes darting up to meet my gaze. For a moment, I see a flicker of… something. Not quite trust, but perhaps a willingness to consider it. Then her walls slam back into place, and she averts her gaze.

Yet, she doesn't pull away. An unfamiliar warmth spreads through my chest.

As the ceremony progresses, my mind wanders. Natalia Orlov is nothing like I expected—she’s a mystery. She’s reluctant, yet willing and that makes her a puzzle to be solved.

For now, I struggle to understand what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling.

I find myself imagining our future—peeling back those layers of defense, earning her trust, perhaps even her affection.

Whatever fears or doubts plague my new bride, I vow silently to uncover them. As we exchange rings, I meet Natalia's gaze once more. This time, I let her see a glimpse of the intensity burning within me.

"I, Denis, take you, Natalia…" My voice carries clearly through the church. It's both a promise and a declaration.

Chapter 3 - Natalia

My heart pounds like a war drum as I stand in the glittering reception hall, a sea of unfamiliar faces swirling around me. Champagne flutes clink, laughter bubbles, and sometimes I laugh on cue when expected of me, but it doesn’t sound like mine.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Zolotov!" His cousin Damien’s wife, Genevieve, comes warmly to kiss me on my cheek. I force a smile, but inside I'm screaming. Mrs. Zolotov. The name sits heavy on my shoulders, a mantle I never asked for.

Just last week, I was Natalia Orlov, an ordinary girl with ordinary dreams. Now? I'm married off into one of the most dangerous families in New York.

I fidget with my wedding ring, the diamond catching the light. It's beautiful, but it means nothing. For the hundredth time this day, I feel like I’ve been scammed into this marriage. One day, I was enjoying my single life, living on my own. How did I end up here?

Across the room, I see my brothers clink glasses, and the sight grates on my nerves. They used my love for them and strong-armed me into this marriage.That’s what happened.And I’m so unaccustomed to saying no to them that this wedding simplyhappenedto me—and all so very fast.

"You look radiant, my dear," an elderly gentleman says, patting my hand. "Denis is a lucky man."

Lucky? Ha! I want to laugh, but I'm afraid if I start, I'll never stop. Little does anyone know that I might have gone through with the vows, but this marriage is going to play out on my terms, whether Denis likes it or not!

Yet, at the back of my mind, I’m aware I already failed on that front. I was supposed to keep my distance, so why the hell did I let him hold my hand during the ceremony? Heat crawls down my neck at the memory of it. How he asked if I was alright, and didn’t believe me when I said I was.

Damn my trembling hands. He saw right through my nerves, and the way he reached out to comfort me without a second thought took me by surprise. I should have pulled away, but I weakened under his charm.

I think I’m screwed.

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