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I hum a cheerful tune as I flit around my boutique, straightening hangers and smoothing wrinkles from rows of silk blouses. My fingers linger on the delicate fabric as I walk down memory lane. Who would have thought my little dream could grow into this thriving business?

"Thanks, Denis," I murmur, a smile tugging at my lips as I think of his unwavering support. Without him, this would have remained just that—a dream.

The bell above the door chimes, snapping me from my daydreams. A group of giggling women spills into the shop, their excited chatter filling the air like bubbles in champagne.

"Welcome, ladies!" I call out, my natural cheerfulness amplified by their infectious energy. "Let me know if you need any help!"

As I move to greet them, more customers flow in, transforming my quaint boutique into a bustling hive of activity. The air buzzes with conversation, punctuated by delighted gasps as shoppers discover hidden gems among the racks.

"Oh my God, Lena, this would look amazing on you!" one woman squeals, holding up an emerald green dress.

I grin, drinking in the vibrant atmosphere. This is what I've always wanted—a place where people feel beautiful and confident.

"Excuse me," a soft voice interrupts my thoughts. "Could you help me find something in a size 14?"

"Of course!" I respond eagerly, leading the shy-looking woman toward a section of the store. "I have some gorgeous pieces that would flatter your curves beautifully."

As I help her, my mind wanders to Denis again. I wonder what he'd think of all this excitement—he’d probably pretend to be annoyed while secretly being proud, I muse with a smile on my face.

The day whirls by in a kaleidoscope of colors, fabrics, and smiling faces. Each sale, each satisfied customer, feels like a personal victory. This is more than just a store—it's my dream come to life, and I'm living it every single day.

***

One slow weekday morning, the bell above the door chimes, and I glance up instinctively. My breath catches in my throat. A man has just entered, and he's not like my usual customers. Tall, impeccably dressed, with an air of confidence that seems to command the very space around him. His blue eyes scan the store before landing on me, and I feel a shiver run down my spine from how he stares.

I'm not sure if it's curiosity or wariness that makes my heart beat a little faster as he strides toward me. I’m all alone in the store, and he seems intimidating. I plaster on my best professional smile, trying to ignore the way his intense gaze doesn’t stray from mine.

"Welcome to Natalia's Boutique," I chirp, hoping that my voice doesn't betray my nerves. "Is there anything I can help you with today?"

He smiles then, all charm and perfect teeth. "Actually, yes. I'm looking for something… unique. I hear you specialize in custom outfits?"

"That's right," I nod, slipping into my element. “I design and create bespoke pieces for clients who want something truly one-of-a-kind."

“Excellent,” he comments, walking behind me. I turn to see if he’s following only to find him staring right at me, rather than looking around.

It’s unnerving, to say the least.

As I lead him toward my design area, showcasing some of my recent creations, I find myself shocked when he instantly places an order for four suits. Within minutes, I can’t shake off an odd feeling. His questions are spot-on, showing genuine interest, but there's something… off. Like he's trying too hard to be charming.

"This blazer is exquisite," he murmurs, running his fingers along the lapel of a piece I worked extremely hard on. "The attention to detail is remarkable. I’ll take this one too."

“That’s six thousand dollars,” I say, wondering if he’d change his mind.

“Money’s no issue.”

"Thank you," I beam, momentarily forgetting my unease. "You’ve got good taste. I believe that the little details are what make an outfit truly special."

He leans in slightly, his cologne tickling my nose. "And what makes you so special, Natalia?"

I laugh, a bit too loudly, taking a step back from the discomfort that rises again. "Oh, you know, just a girl with a sewing machine and big dreams," I deflect, getting worried now. That’s not a usual question I hear around here.

"Big dreams, indeed," he says. "Tell me, how long have you been in business?"

I maintain my cheerful demeanor, even as my guard rises. "Just over a month now in this location," I respond, fiddling with a nearby fabric swatch. "It's been quite the adventure."

He nods, his gaze sweeping across the store. "And how's business been? I imagine it's not easy competing with the big brands."

I resist the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. "It has its challenges," I admit, keeping my tone light. "But we've found our niche. Our customers appreciate the personal touch."

"I can see why," he says, his smile widening. "Your passion is evident. Have you considered expanding?"

My eyebrows shoot up. "Expanding? Well, I've thought about it, but—”

"What if I told you that expansion could be a reality sooner than you think?" he interrupts, his tone shifting from casual to business-like in an instant.

My heart skips a beat. "What do you mean?"

He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a sleek business card. "I represent a private investor," he explains, handing it to me. "We're very interested in your business, Natalia. The client discovered you on an influencer’s Instagram and apparently, that reel’s been getting a ton of visibility. People are talking…about you."

I stare at the card, my mind reeling. An investor? Here? In my little shop? Suddenly, it all makes sense. His adamant interest in knowing everything he could, his keen sense of observing my every move. He was assessing me. "I… wow," I stammer, a giddy laugh bubbling up. "This is unexpected."

"The best opportunities often are," he says, his earlier charm returning. "We believe your talent deserves a bigger stage. What do you say to setting up a meeting to discuss the possibilities?"

Excitement floods through me, chasing away my earlier unease. This could be huge for my business, for my dreams. "I'd love to get back to you," I breathe, clutching the business card like a lifeline.

As he leaves, promising to be in touch soon, I can't help but spin in a circle, my skirt twirling around me. An investor! Wait until Denis hears about this!

My excitement quickly gives way to determination as I clutch the business card, running my thumb over its embossed surface. This is my chance to prove myself, to show everyone—especially Denis and my family—that I can make it on my own without their help. I've poured my heart and soul into this store, and now it's time to take it to the next level.

As the day progresses, I find myself stealing glances at the card, my mind racing with possibilities. By closing time, I've already drafted a rough business plan in my head, eager to impress at the meeting once I set it up.

Just as I'm locking up, a familiar figure appears at the door, his tall frame casting a shadow across the threshold. Denis.

"Knock knock, little tycoon," he calls out, a playful grin lighting up his handsome face. "Still open for your favorite customer?"

I can't help but laugh, the fatigue from the long day melting away at the sight of him. "For you? Always," I tease and he walks in.

"So," he says, leaning against the counter with an air of casual grace that makes my heart flutter, "how was your day? Sell any daring designs to unsuspecting babushkas?"

I roll my eyes, but the image he puts in my head makes me giggle. "That’s one way to kill my career. For your information, I had a very productive day. In fact, you might be looking at the next big thing in fashion."

Denis's eyebrows shoot up, his gray eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh? Did you finally invent those self-ironing pants you've been dreaming about?"

I swat his arm playfully, feeling a surge of electricity at the brief contact. "Even better. I might have had my biggest ever single-day sales."

“Really?” His face beams with pride. "Just promise me you won't forget about your favorite customer when you're a big-shot fashion mogul."

I playfully swat his arm. "As if I could ever forget you, Denis Zolotov. You're like a persistent stain on a fancy blouse."

He clutches his chest in mock hurt. "A stain? And here I thought I was more like a perfectly tailored suit."

"Keep dreaming," I tease, but warmth spreads through my chest at his supportive words. "You know," I add with a giggle, “I’m going to be super busy filling the orders I received today. So if you're going to hang around here so much, I might have to put you to work."

Denis’s eyes twinkle with amusement. "Is that so? And what position did you have in mind for me, Mrs. Zolotov?"

I suddenly feel a surge of current in the air between us as time stands still for the briefest of seconds. He just called me Mrs. Zolotov for the very first time, and hearing it on his lips reminds me of the fact that I’m his .

He raises an eyebrow, all playful and goddamn handsome, as though he knows the effect he has on me. Before I inflate his ego a little too much, I better bring him back to earth.

I tap my chin, pretending to consider. "Hmmm… how about a professional mannequin? You've certainly got the brooding look down pat."

He chuckles, the sound sending an inexplicable warmth through me. "I'll have you know I'm an excellent multitasker. I can brood and fold clothes at the same time."

"Now that I'd pay to see," I tease, but there's a softness in my voice that surprises even me.

The easy banter between us tinged with a newfound intimacy wraps around me like a warm embrace. As Denis gives me a wink, I'm struck by how comfortable his presence has become. When did that happen? When did this intimidating man start to feel like… home?