Page 25

I gently adjust the pillow under Denis's head, my fingers lingering for a moment on the crisp white pillowcase. The steady beep of the clock fills the otherwise silent bedroom.

I was this close to losing him. I reach out and my fingers trace the strong line of his jaw, now softened in sleep.

Denis's eyelids flutter, and the first thing he seeks is my eyes. For a moment, neither of us speaks.

"You're still here," he rasps, his voice rough from disuse.

God. It’s good to be by his side again.

I quirk an eyebrow, fighting to keep my tone light despite the butterflies in my stomach. "Where else would I be? Someone's got to make sure you don't try to sneak out and run an empire when you should be recovering."

A ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Oh really?" I lean forward, unable to resist teasing him a little. "Because I seem to recall a certain someone trying to conduct a conference call while hooked up to an IV drip yesterday."

Denis has the grace to look slightly abashed, though the effect is somewhat ruined by the twinkle in his eyes. "You caught me. What can I say? Old habits die hard."

I roll my eyes, but can't quite suppress my grin. "Well, consider me your new habit, Mr. Zolotov. And this habit says you need to rest."

"Is that an order, Mrs. Zolotov?" he asks, his tone teasing but with an undercurrent of something deeper.

The use of this permanent title sends a shiver down my spine. "You bet your perfectly sculpted ass it is," I retort, hoping my blush isn't too obvious. "Now close those pretty eyes of yours before I'm forced to take drastic measures."

"And what might those be?" Denis challenges, his eyebrow arching in a way that makes my heart skip a beat.

I lean in close, my lips barely brushing his ear as I whisper, "I'll sing. And trust me, no one wants that."

His laughter, rich and genuine, fills the room, and I find myself joining in. As our eyes meet again, I'm struck by how far we’ve come. How strong we’ve become.

As though reading my thoughts, he takes my hand and kisses the back of it. “When you were gone,” he says hoarsely, “I didn’t know what to do with myself. I forgot what life was like before you ever came into it.”

I look into his eyes, the sadness from those days still lingering in my heart. “I know,” I whisper. “I…missed you too.”

“Nat,” he says, trying to sit up. I immediately place my hand on his chest and keep him still.

“Your back, it’s still—”

He listens, but continues speaking, as though this urgent matter of the heart must be said now. “I don’t know how I could ever explain what those men were capable of. When I saw Sidorov had you captive, my mind just shut off. I’ve seen them do things I could never tell you. They killed a man’s wife once, and the way they did it, Nat… the Mafia, the Bratva, none of us could believe it. They have slaves, Nat. Slaves. My mind just shut off. I had to… I had to…”

His voice fades away, his eyes lingering with pain.

I bend down and gently kiss his forehead. “I know,” I whisper softly, before sitting down on the chair by his side. “It’s still difficult sometimes to understand, but I know you did it for me.”

***

"Time for your exercises, tough guy," I announce, gently helping Denis into a sitting position. "Ready to show me what you've got?"

Denis sits up with determination, but there’s a hesitance in his eyes. "I'm not sure I'll be much of a show today, Natalia."

"Nonsense," I counter, positioning myself to support him. "You're Denis Zolotov. Everything you do is a show."

He chuckles softly, then grimaces as we begin the first stretch. I guide his arm through the motion, hyper-aware of every point where our bodies connect.

"You're doing great," I murmur encouragingly, helping him through another rep. "How does it feel?"

"Like I'm being torn apart by wild horses," Denis grunts, but there's no real bite to his words. "But… better with you here."

My heart swells at his admission, and I have to bite my lip to keep from grinning like an idiot. We continue in companionable silence, broken only by my quiet instructions and Denis's occasional grunts of exertion.

As we finish the last exercise, I ease him back against the pillows, noting the sheen of sweat on his brow. Without thinking, I reach out to brush a stray lock of black hair from his forehead. Denis catches my wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"Thank you, Nat," he says softly, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that steals my breath.

I manage a smile, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. "Anytime, big guy. That's what wives are for, right?"

As Denis drifts off to sleep, exhausted from the therapy, I find myself lost in thought. This marriage had all the odds stacked against it. And yet… I can't deny the connection growing between us. It's as if the universe has thrown us together, two mismatched puzzle pieces that somehow fit perfectly.

I watch the rise and fall of Denis's chest, marveling at how peaceful he looks in sleep. I imagine what would have happened had he not made it, and suddenly, I understand. I clench my fists. I would have done anything to get him back.

Something tells me that had I been in his shoes that day in the store, I might have picked up a gun to defend him, too. Our methods of protecting might be different, I might not bash someone’s skull in, but I’d take their life if it came to protecting Denis.

And in this moment, I understand exactly why he did what he did.

I settle back in my chair, a small smile playing on my lips. This may not be the fairy tale I dreamed of as a girl, but maybe, just maybe, it could be something even better. Something real, something hard-won. And as I watch over my sleeping husband, I know I'm ready to fight for it—for us—with everything I have.

***

Two weeks later, when Denis feels better and can get out of bed, he calls for a meeting. We’re in the living room when the doorbell rings.

Denis and I exchange looks and I stand to get it. At the door, I’m met with the grim faces of our families. My brothers file in, followed by Denis's.

“Glad you’re feeling better, Brother,” says Abram, shaking Denis’s hand.

"It's time," Abram announces gruffly. "We need to discuss what happened."

I feel my heart pounding in my chest. From how our brothers look, it’s not good news. Denis reaches out and takes my hand in his. He nods at me, his jaw set with determination as if to say whatever it is, we’ll handle it, together . "Let's hear it," he says, turning back to my brother.

Abram paces, his fists clenched. "The fire wasn't an accident. We found traces of accelerant."

I feel my stomach drop, a chill creeping up my spine. "Who would do this?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Denis's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. "The Sidrovs, of course," he growls. "For taking out their head.”

"But to attack so boldly?" I question, my mind racing. "That's practically a declaration of war."

"Exactly," Dima nods, his eyes glinting dangerously. "And we need to decide how to respond. But however we do, we must teach them a lesson that puts an end to this madness."

“We need to take them out,” says Fedor through gritted teeth. “For what they did to you.” His eyes fall on me, and then Denis as he says, “And you,”

“And for all those people they abused,” I add and lift my chin high. “None of them deserved it, to be kept as slaves, treated worse than animals.”

“Well said, Sister,” Mark gives me a proud smile.

As the discussion heats up, with talks of retaliation and strengthened security, none of the suggestions seem enough. This is my family now—all of them. And I'll be damned if I let anyone threaten what's mine.

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding as I realize what I need to do. "I have an idea," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. The room falls silent, all eyes turning to me. I lift my chin, meeting their gazes. "We could use me as bait to lure the Sidorovs out."

The reaction is immediate. My brothers start talking at once, their voices rising in protest.

"Absolutely not!" Abram thunders, his face reddening.

My brother-in-law Nikolai shakes his head vehemently. "It's too dangerous, Natalia. You're not trained for this."

I feel a flash of frustration. "I'm not a child," I argue, my stubborn streak flaring. "I know the risks, but think about it. They won't expect me to be involved. I could—”

"No," Vladimir cuts me off, his tone brooking no argument. "We'll find another way."

I open my mouth to protest again, but before I can, Denis's deep voice cuts through the chaos. "Let her speak," he says, his gray eyes locked on mine. The room falls silent once more.

Denis moves away from me, giving me the floor, but his gaze never wavers. "Natalia isn't just some innocent bystander anymore," he continues, his words measured but intense. "She's my wife, a Zolotov now, and she's proven herself more than capable. Besides, they came for her. She has as much of a right to revenge as we all do."

I feel a warmth spread through my chest at his words, at the faith I see in his eyes.

"But she's not trained—” Fedor begins, but Denis cuts him off.

"Neither were any of us when we started," Denis counters, his voice hardening. "Natalia is intelligent, observant, and far stronger than you give her credit for. I learned that the hard way and would advise you gentlemen to not make the same mistake. If she has an idea, we should hear it. Besides, we’ll be there to help her, every step of the way."

I stare at Denis and give him a nod. In this moment, I truly feel like we're partners.

A surge of confidence through me. My shoulders straighten, and I stand a little taller, meeting the eyes of each person in the room. The atmosphere has shifted; where there was skepticism before, I now sense curiosity and grudging respect.

"Thank you, Denis," I say, my voice steady and clear. "Here's what I propose…"

I take a deep breath, grounding myself before launching into my plan. "We know the rival group is out for revenge, right? We also know that they’re hated by most in this city. So let's go hit them where they’re the weakest.”

I pause, gauging the room's reaction. My brothers lean forward, interest piqued. Denis nods encouragingly, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Hack their systems. Discover who they’ve hurt and threaten to expose them. Find out everyone they’ve burned. We garner support. Once the Sidorovs realize they have no allies and risk losing the few they have since we can expose them anytime, they won’t dare attack.”

"Put me forward as bait," I continue, the words flowing more easily now. "I’ll plan a show. Make sure every newspaper headlines it. Make sure the Sidorovs know where I am, when I am. We'll leak information about a supposed weakness in our defenses. When they take the bait, we'll be ready."

I walk to the center of the room, gesturing as I speak. "Picture this: a seemingly unguarded show. Inside, no security. But it's all a facade."

My hands move animatedly as I describe the scene. "Hidden cameras, silent alarms, and our best men lying in wait. When they strike, thinking they've hit the jackpot, we'll have them surrounded to deliver our message.”

I turn to face Denis, my eyes blazing with determination. "It's risky, yes. But it's unexpected. They won't see it coming because they've underestimated me—just like some of you have."

The silence that follows, I know, is a newfound respect for what I bring to the table.

The room erupts into a cacophony of voices, each family member trying to be heard over the others. My oldest brother, Abram, raises his hand, silencing the room.

"It's bold, Natalia," he says, his brow furrowed. "But are you prepared for the danger? This isn't a game."

I stand my ground, chin raised. "I'm aware of the risks, Alexei. But I'm also aware of what's at stake."

And I look right at Denis.

***

We usher our brothers out and bid them goodbye. The moment I close the door, Denis turns to me, his eyes soft with admiration. "You were incredible in there," he murmurs.

I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. "I was terrified," I admit. "But I knew I had to speak up."

He reaches out, his hand gently cupping my face. "You showed true strength today. I'm proud to call you my wife."

The sincerity in his voice makes my heart skip a beat. "Thank you for believing in me," I whisper. "It means more than you know."

We stand there for a moment, letting this moment sink in. I find myself leaning into his touch, remembering how much I missed this.

"We make a good team, don't we?" I say, a hint of mischief in my voice.

Denis chuckles, the sound warming me from the inside out. "That we do, Sweetheart. That we do."

As we walk hand in hand toward our room, I know that we’re finally beginning to understand one another.