Page 71 of Plus-Size Curves for the Bratva

"Ready as I'll ever be," I reply, though my heart beats extra fast as it always does on days like these. "Where should I meet you?"

"I'm already at the location we discussed two blocks down."

My pulse quickens. "On my way."

I hang up and take a deep breath, smoothing my hands over my hips. It's go time.

I hurry down the sidewalk, my heels clicking rhythmically against the pavement.

As I round the corner, my breath catches. There he is. Denis sits in the sleek black car, his tall, muscled frame exuding power even in stillness. His gray eyes, flecked with green, lock onto mine, and suddenly I feel like I'm moving through molasses.

"Natalia," he says as he opens the door, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine. We’ve been married for a year now, and still my heart races in his presence.

I slide into the passenger seat, the leather cool against my skin. "Hi," I say. "Do we have everything?"

Denis nods, starting the engine. "Camera, mics, and the layout of the building. You remember the plan?"

"In and out, quick and quiet," I recite, my heart racing. "No heroics."

As we pull away from the curb, the city starts to change around us. Glittering storefronts give way to boarded-up windows and graffiti-covered walls. I fidget with the hem of my shirt, nervous energy coursing through me.

"You're sure about this?" Denis asks, his eyes flicking between me and the road.

I meet his gaze, chin lifted. "Absolutely. Those workers need our help."

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "That's my girl.”

The compliment warms me, but as we delve deeper into the shadowy outskirts of the city, a chill settles over me.

Denis, as though reading my mind, reassures me. “We get the information we need, and our men will take care of the rest. They’ll be safe. Don’t you worry."

The car slows to a stop, and my stomach twists as I take in our surroundings. Dilapidated warehouses loom on either side, their windows like hollow eyes watching our every move. The air feels thick and oppressive as if danger itself has a physical presence here.

Denis turns to me, his face a mask of calm determination. "Ready?"

I nod, surprised by the steadiness in my own voice. "Let's do this."

We slip out of the car, moving like shadows across the cracked pavement. My heart pounds, but I focus on Denis's broad back ahead of me, drawing strength from his unwavering presence.

Inside the warehouse, the stench of chemicals and despair hits me like a wall. We navigate silently through dimly lit corridors, communicating with subtle gestures and meaningful glances. Denis points to a door, and I nod, understanding instantly.

I keep watch while he picks the lock, my ears straining for any sound of approach. The click of the lock disengaging feels deafening in the stillness.

We slip inside an office, and I immediately spot what we need—a filing cabinet in the corner. Denis stands guard while I rifle through papers, my fingers trembling slightly as I snap photos of incriminating documents and seized passports. I grab the passports and shove them into a bag.

We’ll need them later, to track all these people so we can get them out.

A sudden noise outside makes us both freeze. Denis's eyes meet mine, a silent question. I give a quick nod—got what we came for. In perfect sync, we move toward the exit, every nerve on high alert.

***

My heart races as we slip out of the warehouse, the cool night air a shock against my flushed skin. Denis's hand finds the small of my back, guiding me swiftly to the car. We dive in, and he peels away, tires squealing against the pavement.

"We did it!" I exclaim, unable to contain my excitement. The adrenaline surges through me, making me feel alive in a way I've never experienced before.

Denis's lips quirk into a rare smile. "You were incredible in there, Natalia."

I beam at the praise, feeling a surge of pride. "We make a pretty good team, don't we?"

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