Page 24 of Plus-Size Curves for the Bratva

Natalia nods, her smile growing wider. "Yes, I am! I would love to create something special for you."

The woman practically beams by the time they’re done exchanging numbers and e-mails. “You have a gift, my dear. I will definitely be in touch!”

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Natalia whispers excitedly, as we finally reach the bar and order some drinks. We both get some wine and are about to walk back into the crowd when I find someone patting me on my shoulder. “Denis. Looks like you upped your style game.”

I turn to see an old acquaintance, a casual friend. I laugh and introduce him tomy wife. “Natalia’s the designer, in fact, and has just launched her own boutique. Though she’s picky with her clients and you might not make the cut,” I make a dig at him.

“You bastard,” my friend growls and playfully pretends to punch me on my abdomen, before turning to Natalia for her contact details.

Natalia blushes. As more people gather around us, asking questions about our clothes and Natalia's design process, I find myself marveling at how effortlessly she handles the attention. Her cheerful personality shines through as she explains her process, captivating our small audience.

When we finally manage to break away, I lead Natalia to a quiet corner, drinks in hand. "You were amazing," I tell her, genuinely impressed. "I think you might have just launched your career as a designer."

Natalia giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. "Can you imagine? Me, dressing all these fancy people?" She gestures around the room, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Next thing you know, I'll be designing ballgowns for pumpkins."

I can't help but laugh along with her, caught up in her infectious joy. "Well, Cinderella," I say, leaning in close, "I'd say you're already the belle of the ball."

Our eyes meet, and for a moment, the rest of the room fades away. I'm struck by how comfortable I feel with her, how easy it is to laugh and joke. It's a feeling I'm not used to, but one I find myself wanting to hold onto.

"Thank you, Denis," Natalia says softly, her hand resting lightly on my arm. "For everything. I never thought I'd be here, like this. It's… it's more than I ever dreamed of."

I cover her hand with mine, surprised by the warmth that spreads through me at her touch. "The night's just beginning," I tell her, my voice low. "And I have a feeling it's going to be unforgettable."

As I'm about to suggest we walk through the crowd to catch up with some more people I know, a familiar voice cuts through the ambient chatter. "Denis? Natalia? Is that you?"

Natalia's head whips around, her eyes widening in surprise. "Anoushka?" she gasps, her grip on my arm tightening.

I follow her gaze to see the unmistakable figure of my cousin Anoushka with her husband and Natalia’s brother, Nikolai, along with a cluster of other Orlovs and Zolotovs, making their way through the crowd.

"What are they doing here?" Natalia whispers, her voice a mix of excitement and confusion.

I lean in close, my lips nearly brushing her ear. "They're regulars at these events and quite philanthropic as a matter of fact. I should have mentioned it earlier. I'm sorry."

Before I can say more, we're engulfed in a whirlwind of hugs and kisses. My sister Lara pulls Natalia into a hug, while my brother Mark claps me on the back with fraternal affection.

"Look at you," Lara coos, holding Natalia at arm's length. "You're glowing! Marriage clearly agrees with you."

I watch as Natalia's cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and pleasure.

"And this dress!" Anoushka chimes in, running her hands over the fabric. "Where did you get it? It's stunning!"

"Actually," I interject smoothly, unable to resist yet another opportunity to brag about my wife, "Natalia designed it herself."

The pride in my voice isn't feigned. I am genuinely impressed by her talent.

"Our little Natalia?" Fedor booms, his bushy eyebrows shooting up on hearing this about his sister. "A designer? Well, I'll be damned!"

My brother Abram’s wife Zara elbows her way to the front. "Does this mean I get free dresses now?" she asks cheekily.

“Only if you swear to wear them all the time,” Natalia laughs.

As I watch Natalia interact with our families, I'm struck by how different she seems. There's a lightness to her, a playfulness I haven't seen before. I find myself wanting to be part of it, to be the one who brings out that side of her.

"So, Denis," Nikolai says, pulling me from my thoughts. "How are you treating our Natalia? You better be taking good care of her, or you'll have us to answer to."

There's a twinkle in his eye that belies the gruffness of his words, but I know there's truth behind them too. The Orlovs are fiercely protective of their own.

"I assure you," I reply, meeting his gaze steadily, "Natalia's happiness is my top priority."

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