Page 11 of Plus-Size Curves for the Bratva

She laughs, a bitter sound that twists my gut. "Partner? In what universe is this arrangement anything close to a partnership? And in what world was it the right thing to do?"

I watch her, this beautiful, fierce woman I'm determined to understand. Her chest heaves with emotion, her cheeks flushed. Even in her anger, she's captivating.

"You're right," I admit, surprising us both. "This isn't how either of us would have chosen to start a marriage. But, I did what I thought was best for our families. Family always comes first, and now, you’re a part of mine. What you want matters, Nat. We're here now, and I'm trying to make the best of it. Can't you see that?"

She huffs and puts down her fork, not responding, glaring right at me.

I lean forward, my gray eyes locking with her brown ones. "You don't know me yet, Natalia. I'm not the monster you think I am."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Oh, please. I know enough about the Bratva to—"

"No," I cut her off, my voice firm but not unkind. "You know about the Bratva. You don't know me."

For a moment, I see a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. It's gone in an instant, replaced by that fierce defiance I'm growing to admire.

"And what makes you so different?" she challenges, taking a step closer.

I rise from my chair, closing the distance between us. The air crackles with tension, and I can't help but notice how her breath catches as I near.

"Why don't you give me a chance to show you?" I say, my voice dropping to a low rumble.

Natalia tilts her chin up, refusing to back down. "I don't need you to show me anything, Denis. I need you to let me live my life!"

"Your life?" I repeat, feeling my own frustration building. "The one where you sneak out and put yourself in danger?"

Oh shit. I didn’t mean to bring it up, but it’s been playing on my mind. For weeks now, she’s been sneaking out at random hours. She thinks I don’t know, but the security cameras send an alert whenever someone enters and exits the house.

Her eyes flash dangerously. "I can’t believe you’re spying on me! I can take care of myself!"

"I’m not spying on you!" I counter, stepping even closer. We're inches apart now, the heat from her body radiating against mine. "But I worry about your safety. You know how dangerous it is for us out there and from where I'm standing, you're acting like a reckless child.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Natalia's eyes widen, then narrow in fury. But beneath the anger, I catch a glimpse of hurt that makes my chest ache.

"Is that what you think of me?" she hisses, her voice low and dangerous. "As someone incapable of making decisions for herself? As someone incapable of knowing what’s safe and what’s not for her? You’re suffocating me, Denis. Just like my brothers did! The next thing I know, you’ll have men at my heels at all times. Is it so damn hard to want a life without being followed around?"

I open my mouth to respond, but she's already whirling away, storming up toward her room.

***

I toss and turn in bed, sleep eluding me as Natalia's words echo in my mind. I can't shake the image of her hurt expression, the way her eyes flashed with anger and disappointment.

"Damn it," I mutter, punching my pillow in frustration. I want to keep her safe, but at what cost? The memory of her accusation stings: "You're suffocating me, Denis!"

I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling. "Am I really no better than her brothers?" I wonder aloud, the question hanging heavy in the air. The silence of the night offers no answers and only amplifies my inner turmoil.

As dawn breaks, I haven't slept a wink. I drag myself out of bed, hoping a strong cup of coffee will clear my head. But as I pass Natalia's room, I notice the door ajar. My heart races as I push it open, finding the bed empty and neatly made.

"Natalia?" I call out, my voice echoing through the quiet house. No response. I check the kitchen, the living room, and even the garden. Nothing.

Frustration bubbles up inside me. "She's done it again," I growl, running a hand through my disheveled hair. I'm about to call my men when I spot a note on the refrigerator:

"Gone to run errands. Don't send out a search party. –N"

I crumple the note in my fist, torn between anger and a reluctant admiration for her boldness. As I slump into a kitchen chair, her words from last night resurface: "I need you to let me live my life!"

I close my eyes, exhaling slowly. Maybe she's right. Maybe I am suffocating her. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut, leaving me winded and uncertain.

I stare at the crumpled note in my hand, smoothing it out as I consider Natalia's words. Her fierce independence, so different from the women I'm used to, both frustrates and intrigues me. I admire her spirit, even as it challenges everything I know.

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