Page 14 of The Bratva's Plus-Size Bride

“You’re single. The investor is a woman, remember? That means we need your special breed of charm to seal this deal. Riley would kill me if I flirted to get it done, but you’ve got nothing holding you back. So, suck it up and get home in time.”

The thought of flirting with another woman while all I can think of is Ella turns my stomach. Not happening. “Get a new tactic because that’s not happening.”

Viktor’s silent for a moment, probably from disbelief. I can’t really blame him when he’s right. I usually am able to charm my way into a good deal, and some of that comes from flirting, but not anymore, and he’s going to have to accept that. He’s got Riley, and I’ve got Ella. Maybe I don’t really have her yet, as much as it kills me, but either way, she has me.

The bathroom door opens, and Ella steps out wearing the pajamas she was wearing in bed. Her wet hair clings to her neck and drips down the front of her tank top. She’s avoiding my eye.

“What’s this about? If you’ve suddenly got a girlfriend, it’s some damned inconvenient timing, and it can’t be all that serious yet. If we lose this investor, it’s a big fucking deal, Anton. He’s testy, and if I don’t placate him, I’ll be on the phone forever when all I want is to be making it up to Ella. “

“Fine, Dude. Whatever. I’ll be there, but I’m doing it my way.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve gotta go.” I hang up before he can argue and flip my phone to silent just in case he wants to call back and continue hashing things out. He can wait. Ella can’t.

She’s facing away from me, considering the clothing options in her wardrobe. I wonder if I pushed too far, too fast, getting this single room together. It’d seemed like a good idea at the time, a way of breaking down the barrier between us and showing her I could be trusted, but maybe I’ve scared her. Maybe I’ve ruined this.

I get up because sitting still with my fears and her back turned to me, preventing me from seeing whatever she’s feeling written across her face, makes my skin crawl.

“Coffee’s here,” I say, bringing her cup over and setting it on the dresser before her. She stiffens and doesn’t turn.

“What was that about?” she asks, and I assume she’s referencing the phone call that interrupted our perfect morning. “Sounded kind of urgent.”

At least she’s talking to me. She reaches for her coffee and takes a sip, her eyes closing in a moment of bliss that lets me know I nailed the ratio of cream and sugar. It’s the little things.

“We have to fly back a little sooner than anticipated,” I reply, smoothing the frustration from my voice because it’s got nothing to do with her. “There’s a gala we need to attend to secure some investors. Yet another part of the job, I’m afraid.”

“A gala?” Her eyes flare in surprise. “And I need to attend?”

“You’re my assistant, Ella. I need you for things like this. Is that going to be a problem?” If so, I can’t imagine why. I’ve seen her navigating the delicate business dealings over the past few days with ease. She’s a natural at it.

Her face shutters and she turns back to her clothes, but I can tell she’s not really seeing them. “A problem? Not really, no. I mean, sort of.” She hesitates, fingering the fabric of a blouse.

I set my hand on top of her busy one, settling her movements, capturing her fingers between my own, and using the connection to turn her toward me so she has no choice but to answer. “What is it? I can help. Are you nervous about meeting investors? I can be by your side every step of the way, but they’ll love you. I have no doubts about that.”

“It’s not that,” she insists, and even the tip of her nose is turning pink. So goddamn adorable. “I don’t have anything to wear to a thing like that.”

Money. Again. I hate the reminders that she doesn’t have everything she needs, never mind everything she wants, like she should. But I know I have to tread carefully. Her pride will never let her accept what she thinks is charity.

“It’s a business function, so obviously the required clothing will be a business expense.” I wave away her concerns with my free hand. As far as I’m concerned, she could buy an entirely new wardrobe and bill it as a business expense, but she’d never allow it. “Consider it taken care of.”

Ella’s hand tightens around mine, and she glances down in surprise to find herself holding onto me. She quickly drops it. “I don’t think—"

I interrupt before she can start whatever compelling argument she has against the idea. “We don’t have time to waste on this discussion. There’s work to do.”

To drive the point home, I walk over to my laptop and open it up, but what I really start working on is organizing an outfit for Ella.

“You’re a stubborn man, aren’t you, Mr. Milov?” Ella puts her hands on her hips and stares me down and fuck if I don’t adore that mulish look on her face, the one that says I’m not the only stubborn one in the room. “Used to getting your way?”

I flick my gaze to her body, letting my eyes linger in an obvious way on her curves. “In all things.”

Chapter 8 - Ella

I hate shopping. Ever since I was a teenager, it’s been a complete nightmare going to the store. Everything that looks cute on the mannequin seems to fit me all wrong, clinging to the places I don’t want anyone to see while hanging off the areas that I wouldn’t mind showing off. If it fits at all. And the plus-sized stores? Somehow even worse. Everything there looks like it’s made for a woman twice my age.

Now I have no choice but to visit the stores to find an outfit for this gala, the one Mr. Milov insists I attend. I know he can manage schmoozing with investors just fine on his own—with that face and that charm, he’s basically made for it. But he’s right; I’m his assistant, and this is an opportunity for me to learn another aspect of the job, so I must go along with it. Even if the thought of slipping into a gown right now makes me want to curl up and die.

I glance down at the text message from Mr. Milov. It directs me to a boutique I’ve never heard of in a part of town I know I don’t belong in, because the streets are perfectly clean and every storefront has huge, unbarred windows without a speck of grim on the glass. He even sent a car to take me here, which is so unnecessary, but when I brought that up, I got the same argument that this is a business expense and I’m quickly learning that arguing with Mr. Milov is a waste of time. He gets what he wants.

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