Page 34 of Plus-Size Curves for the Bratva

“Natalia!” I admonish her with a chuckle.

The moment we step out, I spot my brothers—Abram, Vladimir, and Mark—waiting by the entrance. Their expressions are a mix of curiosity and wariness. I can read their minds. They’re obviously confused by Natalia tagging along. I place my hand on the small of Natalia's back, guiding her forward.

"Brothers, Natalia’s very happy to be here today," I say, my voice carrying a hint of warning. They nod, offering polite greetings.

Inside, the warehouse buzzes with activity. Workers move boxes, operate machinery, and type furiously at computers. I start introducing Natalia to some key personnel, but she quickly takes charge.

"Hi there! I'm Natalia," she chirps, extending her hand to a burly man operating a forklift. "That looks like fun. Think you could teach me sometime?"

The man's gruff exterior melts instantly. "Sure thing, miss. Anytime you want."

I watch in amazement as she works her way through the warehouse, leaving a trail of smiles and laughter in her wake. Her natural charm and genuine interest in people shine through, breaking down barriers I've spent years trying to overcome.

"Your wife’s something else," Vladimir murmurs, sidling up to me.

I nod, my eyes never leaving Natalia. "That she is."

Suddenly, the door bursts open, and in walk Natalia's brothers—Nikolai, Dima, Fedor, and Artyom.

Natalia squeals with delight. "You guys made it!" She rushes over, enveloping each of them in a hug. I see her brothers, and mine, exchanging confused glances and hold back a laugh.

“Can’t believe our little sister is actually happy to be involved in our world,” Fedor muses incredulously. Nikolai gives him a warning glare before Natalia notices and an argument ensues.

Smart man.

As we gather around a large table covered in maps and documents, I'm struck by how naturally and delicately Natalia inserts herself into the conversation, without stepping on any toes. She mostly listens but adds valuable suggestions for alternative methods for laundering money, and even corrects one of Fedor's calculations.

"Where did you learn all this?" Artyom asks, clearly impressed.

Natalia shrugs, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh, you know, I was born into this world, after all. Let’s call it genetics."

In this moment, I feel prouder than I ever have.

As the meeting progresses, I notice the subtle shift in dynamics. Natalia's brothers are leaning in, hanging on her every word. My own brothers exchange surprised glances. And me? I'm fighting the urge to grab her and kiss her senseless right here in front of everyone.

I can't tear my eyes away from Natalia. She's leaning over the table, pointing out something on the end-of-year balance sheet, and her curves are on full display. My fingers itch to trace the outline of her body, to pull her close and—

"Denis?" Natalia's voice snaps me back to reality. "Are you listening?"

I clear my throat, trying to regain my composure. "Of course, Nat. Continue."

She quirks an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Sure you were. As I was saying…"

I force myself to focus on her words, not the way her lips move as she speaks. It's torture, pure and simple. How can someone be so sexy without even trying?

Suddenly, Abram's phone rings. His face grows serious as he listens, and I know something's wrong before he even speaks.

"There’s some trouble at the docks," he announces. "The shipment will have to be delayed and they need some help on the ground."

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "How long?"

"At least another six hours."

"Fuck," I mutter. This complicates things. "Alright, I'll handle it."

Natalia steps forward, her chin raised defiantly. "I'm coming with you."

"Absolutely not," I say firmly. "It's too dangerous."

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