Page 10

The sleek black car glides to a stop, and I step out onto the red carpet. Camera flashes burst like fireworks, the crowd's excited buzz swelling as I turn to help Natalia out.

"Your grand entrance awaits," I say with a wink.

She emerges, and yet again, I’m taken aback by how stunning she looks. The ruby red georgette dress she designed embraces every curve, the classic boat neckline showcasing her elegant neck and collarbones. The fabric flows dramatically from her hips to pool at her feet.

"If I trip in these heels, you better catch me," Natalia says with a nervous laugh, subtly explaining why she’s taking my arm for support.

The reason doesn’t matter. I’m simply thrilled to have a reason to hold her close. In fact, I have half a mind to tell her she should wear heels more often, but I refrain for fear of scaring her off.

I instead chuckle, patting her hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, I won't let you fall."

We make our way down the carpet, and I notice heads turn to follow Natalia's progress. The dress demands attention, but it's her radiant smile and classic beauty that truly captivate. Of that, I am sure.

My chest swells with an unexpected surge of pride. This vibrant woman is here with me and I'm seeing Natalia in an entirely new light tonight.

"You look absolutely stunning," I murmur in her ear as we pause for photos and I slide an arm across her waist for the cameras.

A pretty pink blush colors her cheeks. "Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself, you know."

"I try." I smooth my tuxedo lapel with my spare hand, hyper-aware of her curves pressed against my side. My mind wanders to dangerous territory, imagining those curves beneath my hands. I quickly shake off the thought.

The warmth of her skin, the subtle notes of her perfume—it's intoxicating. I've always known she was attractive, but tonight… tonight feels different somehow. It’s the first time I’ve seen her all dressed up since our wedding, and have to admit it’s a good look on her.

After the pictures are done, I guide Natalia toward the grand ballroom entrance. As we step inside, I hear her soft gasp of wonder and smile. The opulence of the room is truly stunning.

Massive crystal chandeliers hang from the vaulted ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow over the space. Elegant floral arrangements adorn every table, their delicate, crisp scent permeating through the air. The live band in the corner plays a soft jazz melody, providing the perfect backdrop to the lively chatter of the guests.

"It's like something out of a fairytale," Natalia breathes, her eyes wide as she takes it all in.

I lean in close, unable to resist teasing her a little. "Does that make me your Prince Charming?"

She laughs, the sound light and carefree. "I don't know, Denis. Can you slay dragons?"

"For you?" I find myself saying, surprising even myself with the sincerity in my voice. "I'd face an entire army of them."

The moment the words leave my mouth, there’s a brief moment suspended in time, when the world around us fades away. Natalia sucks in a gasp of air at my declaration, the meaning not lost in the delivery.

And in true Natalia fashion to shift focus from this charged energy between us, she leans in close. "Let's hope this dress holds up through dessert. I'd hate to burst out of it like an overstuffed sausage."

Instead of chuckling at her self-deprecating humor, I find myself seething inside. The mere thought of Natalia comparing herself to an overstuffed anything annoys the hell out of me. How could she not see her own allure?

Sliding my gaze over her delicate features, my mind races with the need to make her understand. She's not just beautiful; she's captivating. In every sense of the word.

I stop in my tracks and she pauses beside me, her gaze flickering over my face with curiosity as though to ask, all ok?

“Natalia,” I murmur, turning to her and reeling her attention in with my gaze. “Stop right there. You are not, nor will you ever be an overstuffed sausage ." My voice carries a weight of seriousness mixed with a hint of playfulness.

She blinks at me in surprise, her eyes wide and nervous. "I-I was just joking, Denis. You know that."

"I do," I reply, stepping closer to her. "But sometimes even jokes have a way of shaping what you believe to be true. And in this case, the joke isn't funny to me."

Natalia's brows furrow and she tilts her head slightly, clearly puzzled by my sudden intensity.

I take a deep breath, trying to find the right words to convey what I see when I look at her. "I mean that you are absolutely stunning, Natalia. Your curves are not something to hide or be shy of. In fact, you’re even more beautiful for it. Can’t you see that? Tonight, and every other night, your curves make you utterly mesmerizing."

She lowers her eyes, blushing as she bites her lower lip. It breaks my heart to think she doesn't see herself the way I do. But I'm determined to change that.

"So, from now on," I continue, my voice unwavering, "I don't want to hear you put yourself down like that again. You are perfect just as you are."

I watch as surprise flickers across her face, followed by a shy smile that makes my heart race. "Thank you, Denis," she murmurs, her cheeks flushing a delightful pink.

A surge of satisfaction swells in my chest, knowing that my words have reached her, even if just a little.

“Now,” I take her arm and lead her through the crowd. “Let’s get some more drinks, shall we?”

As we make our way through the crowd, I notice heads turning in our direction. Natalia's dress is drawing attention, and for good reason. It's a masterpiece accentuating the femininity of her form in all the right ways, the deep red fabric glimmering under the chandeliers' glow.

A woman in her fifties approaches us, her eyes fixed on Natalia's gown. "Excuse me," she says, "I simply must know where you got that dress from. It's absolutely stunning!"

I feel a surge of pride as I place my hand on the small of Natalia's back. "Actually, you're speaking to the designer herself," I say smoothly. "Natalia here is not only beautiful but incredibly talented."

Natalia blushes, but I can see the sparkle of excitement in her eyes. "Oh, it's just something I put together," she says modestly.

"Don't be so humble, Darling," I interject, unable to stop myself from showing her off. "My wife here has a keen eye for fashion and a unique talent for flattering all body types. And she’s starting to take commissions now.”

“Are you really?” the woman gushes and proceeds to ask Natalia for her contact details.

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 to my 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."

And as I say it, I realize with a jolt that it's true. When did that happen? When did this arranged marriage, this business transaction, become so much more?

I look at Natalia, surrounded by our loving families, her face alight with joy, and I know. I'm in deeper than I ever intended to be.

Just then, she looks over at me with a plea in her eyes. I inch closer, only to hear my cousin Boris ask playfully if we’re planning on giving them some ‘good news’ anytime soon.

Clearly, Natalia needs some rescuing.

I instantly grab her arm, gaze dropping to her glass. “Let’s get some refills, shall we?”

She nods appreciatively, and we leave the group behind to head for the bar.

“Thank you,” Natalia mutters, cheeks still flushed. “That conversation was soon going to reach awkward territory.”

“I can imagine,” I say, rather hoarsely. The truth is, we haven’t discussed children yet and though there are a million things I want to ask, right now seems too soon to discuss the matter. Not when we haven’t even slept together yet.

The thought seeps into my mind with scenes I shouldn’t be imagining and I glance around quickly in guilt, as though afraid someone might see that I’m thinking of her naked in my bed.

At the bar, Natalia suggests we order a round of shots. I’m amused. Shots? But who am I to say no? Without thinking twice, I raise my hand for the waiter.

“Two tequilas,” I mouth at him.

Our shots arrive and we down it, salt and lime following right away. I put my back to the bar, facing Natalia now, my head rushing from the alcohol. Just then, I notice Lara’s brothers watching us carefully, as though assessing if we’re truly doing okay.

I lean in close to Natalia, my lips brushing her ear. "We might need to present a more united, loving front. Otherwise, your siblings might try to steal you back."

I mean it as a jest, a lighthearted comment to ease us back into our roles as newlyweds. But Natalia's reaction catches me off guard.

She follows the direction of my gaze to her brothers and then turns back to me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well then, Husband," she says, her voice low and playful as she slides her hands behind my neck and inches closer, "we'd better make it convincing, shouldn't we? Truly give them a show they’ll regret watching?"

My breath catches in my throat from her proximity, from how her waist now fits between my parted legs, from how close my cock is to her. I stiffen in desire, desperate for her.

Is she suggesting what I think she's suggesting? The look in her eyes tells me she is, and suddenly the room feels too warm, too crowded. She wants to put on a show, and I’m going to have to reel it back in before I make a mistake and take it too far.

"Natalia," I murmur, searching her face. The noise of the party fades away, leaving just us in this moment. Her gaze drops to my lips, then back up to my eyes. The air between us crackles with electricity.

One kiss. A quick one. That’s all I’m allowing us in this situation.

I lean in, intending to give her a quick, chaste kiss—something appropriate for the public eye. But as our lips meet, something shifts. The world narrows down to the softness of her lips, the warmth of her body pressed against mine and the blood flows straight to the source of my desire.

What starts as a perfunctory kiss quickly becomes anything but. My hand cups her face, thumb brushing her cheek. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. I lose myself in the taste of her, the scent of her perfume enveloping me.

The kiss deepens, and I'm drowning in sensation. Natalia's breasts now press against my chest, the awareness of which ignites a fire in my veins to shred her dress to pieces. I trace her lower lip with my tongue, and she responds with a quiet moan that sends shivers down my spine. My arm wraps around her waist, pulling her closer still, as if I could meld us into one being.

Time loses all meaning. I'm vaguely aware that we're in a crowded ballroom, but I can't bring myself to care. All that matters is the way she's kissing me back with equal fervor.

My hands inch down from her waist, resting on the curves of her soft ass. She shudders with desire, and her nails dig into my neck as she flicks her tongue around mine, fighting for more, forgetting to breathe.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathing heavily. Natalia's cheeks are flushed, her lips slightly swollen. She looks up at me with wide eyes, surprise evident in her expression. I'm sure my face mirrors hers.

"I… wow," Natalia whispers, her voice husky.

I clear my throat, trying to regain my composure. "That was…"

"Yeah," she agrees, a small smile playing on her lips.

My heart is racing, desire coursing through me like wildfire. I want nothing more than to pull her back into my arms, to kiss her again and again until we're both breathless. The intensity of my need for her is staggering, bordering on obsession.

"We should probably…" I gesture vaguely toward the party, struggling to form coherent thoughts.

Natalia nods, but neither of us moves. I can't tear my eyes away from her, drinking in every detail of her flushed face, her tousled hair.

“Or,” she suggests at last. “We could just head home.”

I immediately take her hand and make my way to say quick goodbyes. “You’re right,” I tell her. “We’ve been here long enough.”