Page 5

The cobblestones click beneath my heels as I hurry down the narrow street, my breath catching with each step. Something feels… off. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I try to shake away the paranoia, but it clings to me like a shadow.

I'm being ridiculous. It's just jitters from last night, that's all. My brothers’ constant worrying used to rub off on me, and clearly, Denis succeeded in doing the same.

I’m going to be fine. There are no enemies on my heels. The city hasn't fully woken up yet. That's why it's so quiet. So unnervingly quiet.

A cat yowls in the distance and I nearly jump out of my skin. Get it together, Natalia. You're a grown woman, not some skittish teenager.

But the feeling of being watched intensifies with each passing second. My heart thunders in my chest. Sweat beads on my forehead despite the early morning chill.

I can't take it anymore. I need to see for myself. Time to face whatever—or whoever—is out there.

I whirl around, scanning the shadows between buildings, searching for any hint of movement. "Hello?" I call out, hating how my voice wavers. "Is someone there?"

For a long moment, nothing. Then a figure steps out of the darkness.

My jaw drops. "Denis?"

He emerges fully into view, tall and imposing. He looks guilty as he takes a step forward with his hands raised in appeasement.

"Are you stalking me?" my voice comes out a notch higher than I wanted. Of course it would be him!

He doesn't answer immediately, just keeps staring at me with that inscrutable expression. I fidget under his gaze, suddenly very aware of how my curvy figure must look in the snug jacket I threw on for my early morning excursion.

"I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m stalking you, Natalia," he finally says, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. "It's simply not safe for you to be out alone at this hour."

I bristle at his words, my stubborn streak flaring to life. "So we’re at it again, are we? You’re just the same as my brothers! I should have known better than to expect you’d give me some space."

I tap my foot impatiently, waiting for Denis to explain himself. His eyes lock onto mine, and I feel a strange flutter in my stomach.

"I got your note and was worried about you," he says, his tone maddeningly calm. "There are… elements in this city that would love to get their hands on the sister of Nikolai Orlov. On…” His voice fades off before he finishes his sentence in a near-whisper. “… My wife .”

To hear him call me his wife in that tone makes my hands clammy. Denis takes a step closer, and I instinctively back up, my spine hitting the cold stone wall behind me.

"Our enemies are powerful, ruthless. They wouldn't hesitate to use you to get to us.”

His proximity is unsettling, and I struggle to maintain an even tone. "So what, I'm supposed to never leave the house without an army of bodyguards? I knew it!” I throw my hands in the air, not waiting for him to reply, anger brimming in my veins. “I knew there would be no freedom for me in this marriage. My brothers tried to convince me otherwise, but I should have known better.”

"You can have all the freedom in the world, Nat," he says softly. "In case you didn’t notice, I didn’t bring any bodyguards. I decided to give you some privacy and came instead.”

I laugh sarcastically, but it comes out more nervous than I intended.

Denis sighs, running a hand through his black hair. "Whether you like it or not, you're part of this world. You can't just ignore the dangers."

His words hit a nerve, and I feel my resolve weakening. But I'm not ready to give in just yet. "I have a personal life, Denis. Aspirations I can't let be ruined by any interference.”

Something flickers in his eyes—understanding, maybe? But his voice remains firm. "Having dreams doesn't mean you have to be reckless. There are ways to pursue what you want while staying safe."

I bite my lip, conflicted. Part of me wants to trust him, but another part screams to maintain my independence.

Denis steps forward, his hands wrung together in front of him in a picture of genuineness. "I promise to protect you without interfering in your plans," he says. "Your safety is my priority, but I won’t interfere where I’m not wanted, Natalia. Please, let me help you."

I process his words, torn between irritation and a grudging sense of security. My heart races. Can I trust him? Should I?

"That's… unexpected," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "But how do I know you'll keep your word?"

He takes another step closer, and I fight the urge to back away. "I'm not one of your brothers, Natalia. I won't force you home or lock you away."

The mention of my brothers sends a chill down my spine. I can almost hear Nikolai's stern voice, see Dima's disapproving scowl. They'd drag me back without a second thought, my dreams be damned.

"You really mean that?" I ask, unable to hide the surprise in my voice. "You'd let me… do my thing?"

Denis nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "On one condition," he says, and I brace myself. "I accompany you. To ensure your safety. Without ruining your plans, whatever they may be."

I consider his offer. It's more freedom than I ever expected, yet still feels like a compromise. But as I look into Denis's intense gaze, I realize it might be the best option I have.

"Fine," I concede, trying to sound annoyed despite the relief flooding through me. "But don't think this means you tell me what to do, Zolotov."

He chuckles, a deep, rich sound that catches me off guard. "I wouldn't dream of it. Now, where exactly were you heading at this ungodly hour?"

I bite my lip, suddenly feeling exposed. My dreams have always been my secret, tucked away from prying eyes and judgmental stares. But something in Denis's gaze, a flicker of genuine curiosity, makes me want to share.

"I… I design clothes," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's silly, I know, but—"

"It's not silly," Denis interrupts, his tone surprisingly gentle. "Tell me more."

The encouragement in his voice sends a thrill through me. "Well, I've always loved fashion," I explain, my words tumbling out faster now. "The way fabric drapes, how a perfect cut can transform a person. I want to create pieces that make people feel beautiful, no matter their size or shape."

I pause, realizing I'm rambling, but Denis's eyes are fixed on me, attentive and… interested? It's so different from his usual intensity that I find myself continuing.

"I've been sketching designs for years," I confess, a hint of pride creeping into my voice. "But now, I want to bring them to life. I always wanted this to be my backup when I moved out, but could never act on it because the wedding happened. But I don’t want to live with the regrets of what-ifs. That's why I'm here now—to source fabrics, to start making my dreams real."

Denis nods slowly, his brow furrowed in thought. "And your family doesn't know?"

I shake my head, feeling a familiar pang of guilt. "They'd never understand. To them, I'm just…" I gesture at my curvy figure, "…Natalia. But when I design, I feel powerful. Beautiful. Like I can be more than what they see."

"You are more," Denis says softly, making me catch my breath. "I'd like to see your designs sometime if you're willing to share them."

I blink, startled by his request. His genuine interest throws me off balance, but in a way that's not entirely unpleasant.

"Maybe," I reply, a small smile tugging at my lips. "If you behave yourself."

Denis chuckles, and I'm struck by how the sound transforms his face, softening the hard lines and making him look younger, almost… approachable.

"I'll do my best," he promises, and for a moment, I believe him.

I steel myself for what's to come. "Alright, follow me," I say, leading Denis through the narrow, winding streets. The sky is just beginning to lighten, but the market is already alive with activity.

As we round the corner, a riot of colors and sounds assaults my senses. Fabric stalls line the cobblestone paths, their vibrant wares fluttering in the early morning breeze. The air is thick with the scent of coffee and freshly baked bread, mingling with the earthy smell of raw silk and cotton.

Denis's eyes widen as he takes in the bustling scene. "It's so busy," he murmurs, his gaze darting from vendor to vendor. "At this hour?"

I can't help but smile at his surprise. "Early bird gets the worm," I explain, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. "Or in this case, the best fabrics. Everything good sells out fast."

We approach my favorite supplier, an older woman with kind eyes and weathered hands. I examine a bolt of emerald silk and ask the price. When it’s too much, I frown and put it down but Denis leans in close, his voice low in my ear.

"Allow me," he says, and before I can protest, he's engaged the vendor in rapid-fire back and forth.

I watch, slack-jawed, as Denis negotiates with a skill I never would have expected. His commanding presence seems to fill the small stall, yet there's a charm to his interactions that catches me off guard. The vendor, surprisingly, is smiling through it all and eventually gives me a rate of 30% less than what she originally said.

"How did you do that?" I whisper as we move to the next stall, my arms now laden with fabric at a price I couldn't have dreamed of.

Denis shrugs, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "You pick up a few things in my line of work."

I shake my head, torn between amazement and a grudging sense of gratitude. "I don't know whether to thank you or be terrified of you right now."

He laughs, the sound rich and warm. "How about we settle for a little of both?"

As we weave through the bustling market, I notice how he makes way for me. It's… oddly considerate, the way he shields me from jostling elbows and wayward carts.

"I never pegged you for a fashionista," I tease, when he stops at a stall to look at some sequences.

He chuckles, deep and resonant. "I appreciate beauty in all its forms."

I nod, taking in this new side of him. "Well, um, thank you. For your help today. I honestly didn't expect…"

"That I could be useful?" There's a hint of amusement in his tone.

I bite my lip, feeling a twinge of guilt. "That you'd care enough to try."

We reach the market's edge, the morning sun now fully risen. Denis pauses, his expression thoughtful.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Natalia," he says softly.

I meet his gaze, surprised by the vulnerability I see there. "I'm starting to realize that."

As we leave the market behind, I'm struck by how different this morning has turned out from what I'd feared. The Denis walking beside me isn't just the cold, obsessive figure I'd imagined. He's… complex. Intriguing, even.

"So," I venture, "any other hidden talents I should know about?"

His laugh is genuine this time. "Now, where would the fun be in revealing all my secrets at once?"

I roll my eyes, but can't help smiling.