Page 60 of Plus-Size Curves for the Bratva

***

That evening, for some reason, I clutch my pillow and pretend it’s Denis. There’s an actual, physical ache in my chest from the loneliness that encompasses me.

The confusion is the worst. What am I doing? What do I want? What’s the plan?

Is it to stay here with my brothers… forever? Is it to never see Denis again? That idea seems unimaginable. The thought of not having a future with him seems incomprehensible.

The tears pour down, fast and rapid, and I barely even feel them. I miss him, oh god, I miss him. But did I ever know the real Denis?

Just then, there’s a soft knock on my door.

“Come in,” I say, in a choked voice.

The door creaks open. I turn to see Sofia there, a tray in her hands.

“Oh, Darling,” she cries out loud, rushing over. She sets the tray down and gently wipes away the tears. “We were wondering why you didn’t come down for dinner. Everything okay?”

I clutch the pillow tighter to my chest and sit up straight, making some space for Sofia. She perches herself on the edge of my bed, her hand now clasped over mine.

I sob and sob and sob. She just sits there in silence, letting the emotions sweep over me.

“I think I just need to sleep,” I say at last, unable to explain the basic truth: I miss Denis, but I can’t bear to go back to him.

“I think that’s a good idea, Sweetheart,” Sofia says. She gently brushes her lips to my forehead and stands up.

“Eat a little, will you?” she points at her tray.

I nod and sniffle, missing Denis more than anything else. It’s a strange sense of longing, despite all that I saw, that I can't quite comprehend.

I watch her walk away, and then at the door, she pauses.

"He did what he had to do back at the store, Natalia," Sofia says, her tone gentle yet firm. "Those men were a threat to you, and Denis eliminated that threat to protect you. If he didn't act, who knows what might have happened? We could have lost you or him. You must understand, that sometimes, it’s kill or be killed in this world."

Her words linger in the air, heavy with unspoken truths. My mind races, trying to make sense of it all. Denis killed to protect me, and had he not, we could have been the ones dead.

With Sofia’s words playing through my mind—he did what he had to to protect me—memories resurface; the fierce protectiveness in his gaze, the way he held me when we were followed at the fashion show, the way he made every dream come true.

Can I reconcile these two sides of him? My heart says I could, with time.

Do I want to? My heart screams out a resounding yes.

By keeping him away, I’m not only torturing him but suffering myself. God, how I miss him. Perhaps, with a little time, we can move forward.

With a shuddering breath, I grab my phone on an impulse.

My fingers hover over Denis's name, trembling slightly. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. "Come on, Natalia," I mutter to myself. "You can do this. Just call him."

But what will I say? The words I've rehearsed in my head suddenly seem inadequate. How do I tell him I need space without pushing him away completely? That I'm scared.

"Hey, Denis," I practice, my voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to talk about… everything." I cringe. God, that sounds lame.

I'm about to hit the call button when Sofia bursts into the garden, her face pale and eyes wide. "Natalia!" she gasps, out of breath. "There's been an attack on Denis's headquarters!"

The world tilts sideways. My phone slips from my hand, clattering onto the stone path. "What?" I choke out, my heart suddenly racing. "Is Denis—"

"We don't know," Sofia says, her voice tight with worry. "Your brothers just got the news. They're gathering in the living room now because the Zolotovs need some backup. Things are bad, Nat."

My mind spins with terrifying possibilities. Denis, hurt. Or worse. The thought makes me physically ill. "But he's okay, right?" I plead, even though I know Sofia can't answer. "He has to be okay."

---