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I sit in the shadows of my office, the dim light casting long shadows across my desk. My eyes are fixed on the spot where Natalia stood, her horrified expression seared into my memory. She heard everything Abram had to say.

"Fuck," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. The duality of my existence weighs heavily on me. On one side, there's the violence, the power, the responsibilities that come with being the Bratva. On the other, there's Natalia—all softness and light, with her infectious laugh and mischievous brown eyes.

I can still see her face, the way it crumpled when she overheard Abram's congratulations, the way she backed away from me as if I were a monster.

Maybe I am.

My fist clenches on the desk. "I never wanted her to see that side of me," I growl to the empty room. But isn't that who I am? Isn’t it a part of her world, too?

I stand abruptly, heading to her room. I knock. Once, twice, no response.

"She's avoiding me," I realize. I can see the lights are on from under her door.

I try one more time. “Natalia? Are you hungry?”

No reply.

Perhaps, for now, she needs some time to process what she heard. With a heavy heart, I walk away to eat a lonesome dinner by myself. I hardly get a few bites in, though. I’ve lost my appetite because she’s not sitting opposite me. I've grown accustomed to her presence, her playful banter, and the way she lights up a room with her smile.

My jaw clenches as frustration builds. I don't understand. Doesn't she know I would never hurt her? That everything I do, I do to keep her safe?

That night, I toss and turn in bed. My mind plays like a seesaw, and not one side comes out as the victor. On one hand, I know how it all came across. I understand her fear.

But a small part of me defends myself. What I can’t fathom is her inability to understand that my actions are vital for keeping my family safe. For keeping her safe.

Haven’t her brothers done the same? Hasn’t she seen what happens if we don’t act fast and swiftly? How a small battle can turn into a furious war that can get us all killed if we leave a single stone unturned?

This violence I unleash is to protect my family. Why can’t she see that?

A plan begins to form in my mind. I'll show her the other side of my world—not just the violence, but the protection, the loyalty, and the opportunities I can provide to many in need. I'll prove to her that there's more to me than the monster she glimpsed.

***

I watch Natalia walk into the drawing room.

“Good morning,” I say, gently.

Even from here, I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her eyes dart nervously toward me. She gives me a brief nod, no words, and walks past to her workroom. Her curvy figure disappears from view, and I feel a pang of longing. I miss her warmth, her laughter, the way she'd very occasionally, playfully swat at my arm when I teased her.

I stand, ready to follow her in to get things off my chest, when I hear the door click lock.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath. I want to give her the space she needs, but how long is this going to continue? I head back to my seat on the couch, trying to flip through a book for distraction. But, nothing can take my mind off her.

I know she's trying to avoid me. It's been three days since that disastrous phone call, and she's changed her entire routine. No more morning coffee with the paper in the kitchen where we used to "accidentally" bump into each other. No more walking past my office. No more leaving the door to her workroom unlocked.

Damn it, Natalia, I say to myself, putting aside the book. You’re too stubborn for your own good.

I see her emerge again hours later, carrying some needles and yarn in her hand. I'm tempted to march right up to her and confront her. But no, I need to be patient. I need to give her time.

***

A week later, I've made up my mind. This dance of avoidance has gone on long enough. It's time to confront Natalia directly.

"Time to put the cards on the table," I mutter, pushing away from my desk.

I know exactly where to find her. Her workroom, her sanctuary. It's where she goes when she needs to think, to breathe. I make my way there, my stride purposeful.

I pause at the door, wondering if I should knock. But then, I decide there’s no point. She’ll only deny me entry. With fingers crossed, I turn the knob, and to my surprise, it’s not locked.

For once. She must have forgotten to do so today.

I take it as a sign from the gods and step in. I spot her immediately. Natalia's dark blonde hair is pulled back in a messy bun, a few stray strands framing her face. She's hunched over a sketchbook, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Natalia hasn't noticed me yet. I make my way toward her. My heart races, but I keep my expression neutral, controlled.

"Hello, Natalia," I say softly, now standing before her.

She looks up, those gorgeous eyes widening in surprise, then narrowing with a mix of emotions, mostly hinting at anger. It's clear to me that this conversation won't be easy. But then again, nothing worth having ever is.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" I ask.

Natalia's eyes flash, a spark of defiance igniting in their depths. "I haven't been avoiding you," she says, but her words lack conviction. "I've just been… busy."

I can't help but smirk. "Busy enough to change your entire routine? To duck back into your room when you see me coming?" I lean in closer.

She shifts in her chair, her fingers drumming nervously on her sketching table. "Maybe I just needed some space," she snaps, her tone sharp as a blade. "Did you ever think of that, Denis? That not everything revolves around you and your… world?"

I feel a twinge of frustration, but I push it down. "My world includes you now, whether you like it or not," I say, my eyes never leaving hers. "And I'm trying to understand why you're pushing me away."

Natalia's jaw clenches, her stubbornness evident in the set of her shoulders. "You want to know why?" she hisses, leaning forward. "Because I saw a side of you that terrifies me. That phone call, the way your brother spoke… It was like you were a different person."

I feel a pang in my chest. She's right, of course. There are parts of me that would terrify her. But there's so much more she doesn't see, and I want her to catch a glimpse of that.

“Come with me one day,” I suggest. “See what I do. The operations I run, the people we employ, the families we help stay afloat. It’s not all bad, Natalia. You have to see it to believe it.”

I hold her stare, willing her to see the truth in my eyes.

But what she does next makes me lose all hope. She stands and gathers her papers, mumbling an excuse about how she has a call scheduled with a factory in China, and the next thing I know, she leaves without giving me a clear answer.

***

Once again, she’s back to avoiding me. Two whole days of barely enthusiastic good mornings. No meals, shut doors. I’m frustrated beyond belief, unable to work or focus on anything anyone needs of me.

This can’t keep happening. We can’t keep living like this, two strangers under one roof.

On the third morning, I wake at the crack of dawn and wait for that familiar creak of her door. An hour later, I hear her move down the stairs, soft sock-padded footsteps. She’s stopped wearing shoes around the house to keep her goings and comings secret. To ensure she stays out of my way.

Without wasting a breath, I grab my robe and head in her direction. I know where she’s going. I find her in the kitchen, and as expected, bang into her in the doorway. She’s got a mug of steaming hot coffee in her hand and is trying to run right back into her little hole.

“Not today,” I growl, and gently grab her arm.

“What the hell?” she protests, as I guide her to the table and help her into a chair.

I sit across from her, my gaze unwavering. Natalia fidgets under my stare, clearly uncomfortable with this ambush.

“I’m done with this game, Natalia,” I say firmly. “You can’t keep avoiding me forever. We need to talk.”

Her eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape route that she won’t find. With a defeated sigh, she finally meets my gaze head-on. “Fine, then talk,” she challenges.

I take a moment to gather my thoughts, choosing my words carefully. “I know you’re scared of me, of this life I lead,” I start, watching as her guard goes up instantly. “But you can’t keep running away without giving me the chance to prove myself.”

Natalia’s brows knit in confusion. “A chance for what, Denis? For you to pretend to be someone you’re not? To put on a show?”

"You’ve discovered a new side of me, yes. But, I'm still the same man you know, Natalia," I say softly. "The one who cares about his family, who listens to your dreams. That part of me isn't a lie. A man can be more than one thing, have facets to him.”

Her eyes soften for a moment, but then she shakes her head. "How can I trust that? How can I know which version of you is real?"

I reach out, my fingers brushing hers on the table. She doesn't pull away, and I count that as a small victory. "Let me show you," I say, my voice urgent. "Give me a chance to prove that there's more to me than what you saw that day."

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. She frowns, tilting her head as though trying to understand.

“Come with me to see my operations, please. Support me, and I’ll support you. That’s how we should function—as a partnership, a team.”

I try to remind her of the fact that we’re married after all, without stating the obvious.

“A team?” she inquires, her voice quivering.

"Your designs," I begin, my tone shifting to one of sincere interest. "I know how much this means to you. I want to help you make it everything you've dreamed of."

Natalia's eyebrows shoot up, her eyes widening with surprise. "My designs? What do you mean?"

I lean in, my voice low and earnest. "I have connections, resources. I can help you showcase them to people, and get someone to model your clothes where they’ll be noticed. Whatever you need to make your vision a reality."

As I speak, I can see the wheels turning in Natalia's mind. Her eyes narrow, skepticism clear in her expression. She bites her lower lip, a habit I've come to recognize when she's deep in thought.

"Why would you do that?" she asks, her voice a mix of suspicion and curiosity.

I can almost hear her internal struggle. Is this a trick? What's the catch? But beneath that, I sense a flicker of hope, a yearning for the dream she's held close for so long.

"Because I care about you," I say simply, allowing my guard to drop just a fraction. "Your dreams matter to me, Natalia. I want to see you succeed, to be part of that journey if you'll let me. And in return, I want you to be a part of my journey. To see what I have to offer to the world, apart from the darkness you witnessed.”

I remain still, letting her see the sincerity in my eyes. After a long moment, she speaks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I knew it sounded too good to be true," she doesn’t mince her words, her fingers fidgeting with the napkin on the table. "You’re only offering to help so I do what you want. So you can control me!”

I feel a twinge of frustration, but I push it down. Her caution is understandable, even if it pains me. "I'm offering support, not control," I explain patiently. "The clothing business would be yours, every decision would be yours. I'm just providing the means to make it happen faster.”

I lean back in my chair, a smirk playing at the corners of my mouth. "Besides, I've seen how you work. If I tried to control your creativity, we'd be out of business in a week."

Natalia's eyes widen, and for a moment, I worry I've overstepped. Then, a snort of laughter escapes her. "As if you could even operate a glue gun and sequins, Zolotov," she retorts, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I'll have you know I'm quite skilled with… heating things up," I counter, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "Stick to your day job, big guy. Leave the stitching to the professionals."

With each exchange, I feel the tension between us softening. It's intoxicating, this push and pull between us.

Finally, Natalia lets out a long sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Okay," she says softly, meeting my gaze. "I'll… take you up on your offer. But on one condition?”

“Name it,” I ask immediately, relief flooding through my veins.

“We’ll get around to seeing your operations when I truly feel I’m ready for it.”

I want to protest, to have her go now. But, with Natalia, I’m learning it’s best for her to take the reins sometimes. Or else, she’ll go back into her shell. However uncomfortable it is for me to give up control in this situation, I do just that, because of the promises I’ve made her.

“Done,” I say, and extend my hand.

She takes it, shaking it firm, and a warm tingle spreads up my hand, as it itches for more. But for now, I must be patient.