Page 10 of Pregnant Bratva Wife (Vadim Bratva #13)

The ballroom dripped with wealth: Glittering lights, champagne towers, white-gloved waiters, women drenched in diamonds, and a string quartet flown in from France.

The Rossi Foundation Gala was the event of the year in our world. Everyone who was anyone in the New York underworld attended the annual gala, making it impossible to avoid your enemies without seeming weak.

A neutral territory. One night a year, where we met our enemies and allies, yet none raised an allegation. None started or finished a war. One night a year, when we came together for the greater good, donating to causes close to the Rossi family and our hearts.

It was an old-money meets new-money scenario. Power meets influence. To an outsider, this was New York’s elite—people easily mistaken for tycoons, journalists, or politicians.

But we?

We were the seedy underground. The darkness that lingered in the city while it slept.

And for that night? We were innocent.

Our clothes, our grace, our polite conversations—I hoped it would be enough to keep Autumn fooled. I hoped she wouldn’t learn what I was, what I did.

I prayed for no trouble as we entered. Especially from the Espositos, who would be attending under the same unspoken truce that governed these events: no blood on the marble floors.

And tonight, I brought Autumn into the lion’s den.

She stepped into the room beside me, and every fucking head turned.

God, she was stunning.

The dress I had sent for her fit like a glove. Midnight blue silk. Bare shoulders. Slit up one thigh. Hair in loose curls that made her look soft, inviting.

But it was her eyes that caught me.

Even bluer, even lighter in that dress. An ice queen with a warm smile.

My wife.

Fuck, I’d never get used to how good that word felt.

She caught me staring and raised one eyebrow. “You’re staring.”

“So is everyone else.”

Her lips twitched, but she didn’t look away.

I placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her in, nodding to a few men on the way.

“Oh,” she whispered. “Shouldn’t we stop and say hello?”

She was trying to be the perfect wife. I could tell from the way she smiled at the doorman and how she insisted on greeting the hosts on the way in.

“No, that’s alright,” I told her as I ushered her past the group. How could I explain that I could hardly tolerate those assholes on the best of days?

“Champagne?” I offered, flagging down a waiter.

“Yes, please.” She fidgeted nervously with the diamond necklace I had gifted her earlier before taking the glass. She had refused to accept it, but I insisted that a Mrs. Lebedev of good standing wouldn’t dare appear at a Rossi Gala without diamonds.

She let me put it on her.

I handed her the glass, and our fingers brushed—just for a second.

But that same spark tore down my spine, the one I felt earlier when I grazed her back, adjusting her necklace.

A jolt of heat, sharp and electric, shot straight through me—down my spine, down my core—like a fucking shooting star, reckless and aching to hit its mark.

A mark called Autumn.

Fuck. She had no idea how fucking sexy she looked in that dress—tight and strapless, hugging every curve, her breasts pushed up just enough to tease. Just enough to make a man lose his mind.

I noticed many turn, ogle, before their eyes met mine, and froze. She’d been claimed, they realized. Ran.

“Oh my god!” I heard Kate’s voice, and we both turned. “Is that really you, Autumn?”

My sister-in-law rushed towards us, took Autumn into a hug, and pulled back to admire her. “You look gorgeous! And dear god, that necklace,” Kate looked over her shoulder at Caspian, levelled him a glare.

“Did you really have to?” Caspian muttered under his breath, playfully jamming a fist into my stomach.

“Not my fault you don’t spoil your wife,” I teased back.

We caught up for a while before Caspian mentioned that they were heading out. Kate was tired.

“Where are the others?” I asked.

“Oh. Somewhere around,” Kate smiled. “Your brothers are hanging out with the Vadims, I believe.”

The Vadims. Our most powerful allies. Just knowing that they were there was a balm to the soul.

“And by the way,” Caspian whispered as Kate kissed Autumn goodbye. “The Espositos are here.”

“I thought they would be,” I said with a grimace.

Autumn helped herself to another flute of champagne, and I guided her through the crowd, introducing her to those I trusted and tolerated.

Autumn was... surprising. Where I expected awkwardness, she showed grace. Where I anticipated stumbles, she glided.

She was a natural—smiling, asking thoughtful questions, remembering names and details.

“Your wife is charming, Federico,” said Don Amato of a powerful Italian Syndicate, patting my shoulder. “A refreshing change from the usual trophy wives.”

I nodded, feeling proud though I had no right to it. This wasn’t real.

Except it felt increasingly real with each passing minute.

We were speaking with a shipping magnate when I felt a presence at my back. The hair on my neck stood up—animal instinct warning of a predator.

“Federico Lebedev,” purred a voice I recognized immediately. “How long has it been?”

I turned to face Viviana Esposito, the niece of my family’s greatest enemy. She wore red—of course she did—and her dark eyes glittered with malice.

She was a troublemaker if I ever saw one. A rebel. Unpredictable.

“Viviana,” I acknowledged coldly. “This is my wife, Autumn.”

Viviana’s eyes flicked to Autumn, dismissive. “Wife? How... quaint. I hadn’t heard you’d settled down.”

“We kept it intimate,” I said, placing a protective arm around Autumn’s waist.

Viviana stepped closer, ignoring all social boundaries. She placed a hand right on my chest, in front of my fucking wife. “You always did prefer... intimate settings.”

I shoved her hand aside and gave her a warning smile. “We went for dinner once, and that was a long time ago.”

“Not so long.” She smiled like a shark. “I still remember every detail.”

Before I could respond to tell her there were no details to remember, that we never even got around to desert, Autumn stepped forward.

The transformation was instant and astonishing.

“Darling,” she said, her voice honey-sweet as she slid her arm around me. “Who’s your little friend again?”

The possessive way she said “darling” and the cutting way she said “little” sent a jolt straight to my groin.

“Viviana Esposito,” I said. “An old... acquaintance.”

“How lovely to meet you,” Autumn said, her smile brilliant but her eyes steel blue.

Then she did something I never could have predicted. Not in a million years. She leaned in.

Pressed her body flush against mine. Slid one hand up my chest and settled right where Viviana’s had been. Marking her territory.

Her breasts—barely contained in that dress—brushed my ribs. I felt her thigh against mine. Her perfume. Her breath. Her hand curled lightly into the fabric of my jacket like I was hers.

She was acting. I knew she was acting.

So why the fuck did my cock start to stiffen as if this was real?

“Federico and I were just about to dance,” she said sweetly, looking up at me with adoring eyes. “Weren’t we, sweetheart?”

I forgot my voice for just a moment too long. Then I remembered the role I had to play. “Yes,” I said, a little hoarsely. “We were.”

“Such a shame,” Autumn continued, pressing herself against my side while keeping her eyes on Viviana’s. “Federico promised to keep me all to himself tonight. I so rarely get him to myself these days. He works too hard.”

And then she looked up at me—those blue eyes wide and adoring, her lips a breath away from mine—and smiled like she meant every word.

Fuck.

It took everything in me not to grab her right there. Not to pull her somewhere dark and press her against a wall.

She was pretending.

But my body didn’t give a damn.

“Perhaps another time,” Viviana said, her smile now brittle.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Autumn replied sweetly. “I’m rather selfish with my husband.”

Viviana’s eyes narrowed, but she retreated with a forced laugh. “Enjoy your... marital bliss.”

I stayed rooted to the floor, still holding Autumn against me, too stunned and frankly, turned on, to move.

“You’re a goddamn savior,” I muttered.

She tilted her head up at me. “Was that convincing enough? That woman was practically undressing you with her eyes.”

“That was…” My voice was hoarse. Beaten. “More than convincing.”

Autumn lingered against me for a second too long. Time stretched thin. Her eyes and mine were glued.

Fuck. I felt the blood leave my brain.

Her hand brushed low on my stomach as she stepped back.

Dangerous territory.

I let go and regretted it immediately.

Soon after, I was pulled into a conversation with a potential investor. Autumn squeezed my hand.

“I’ll get us some drinks,” she offered.

I hesitated.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured me. “I’m a big girl.”

I watched her walk away, her blue dress like a siren.

I tried to focus on the conversation, but my eyes kept tracking her.

People cleared the path for her. Men attempted to smile.

She ignored them all, stopping briefly only to chat with some girls she’d met earlier. Finally, she made her way to the bar.

I finished my own drink and was about to excuse myself and join her and grab another when I saw him approach.

Marco Esposito. Second-in-command of their family’s operation.

He caught up with Autumn at the bar, leaning in close as he spoke. She smiled politely, but I could see the slight stiffness in her posture.

Red clouded my vision.

I muttered an excuse and cut through the crowd, arriving just as Marco was offering Autumn a drink.

“There you are,” I said, sliding my arm possessively around her waist. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Marco’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Lebedev. I was just getting acquainted with your lovely wife.”

“How thoughtful,” I said coldly. “But we were just leaving.”

Autumn looked between us, confusion clear on her face.

“So soon?” Marco asked, that smug curl still playing at his mouth. “The night’s just getting interesting.”

“Another time,” I said, voice low. Laced with threat. A promise, if this went any further.

He glared right at me, but nodded as he spoke to Autumn. “Of course. Autumn, it was a pleasure.”

I led her away, my hand resting on her lower back, steering her out of the main ballroom, down a dark hallway, toward a secluded alcove where the party faded to a distant murmur.

“What the hell was that?” she snapped as soon as we were alone, whirling on me.

“What were you doing talking to him?” I said, stepping closer, voice sharper than I intended.

“Having a goddamn conversation,” she shot back, fire in her eyes. “Like a normal adult. He offered me champagne and asked how we met. I told him I was married. That’s it.”

“Stay away from him,” I growled.

“You don’t get to dictate who I talk to.” Her arms folded across her chest, defiant and gorgeous. “I’m your wife, not your fucking property.”

“You don’t know who he is,” I said, voice lowering, body closing in. “What he’s capable of.”

“Then enlighten me, Federico!” she challenged, chin tipped up. “You want obedience? Give me honesty. That was the deal.”

She was right. But I couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t risk losing her when she discovered what I really was.

“Just trust me on this,” I said, softer now.

Her eyes searched mine. “Trust isn’t a one-way street.”

The air tightened between us. Her chest was rising fast now. Flushed cheeks. Glittering eyes. She looked like a goddess about to set fire to the room.

“You played the doting wife with Viviana well enough,” I muttered, bitterness crawling up my throat. “Was that so different?”

“That was different and you damn well know it.” Her voice snapped like a whip. “She was pawing at you.”

“Were you jealous?” I asked, stepping even closer. Close enough to feel her heat.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Her voice was sharp—but she didn’t move back.

“Because I was,” I said, breath rough. “Watching him talk to you. Smile at you. Look at you like he wanted to fuck you in the dark.”

She blinked. Her breath hitched.

“It made me want to kill him.” My fingers brushed her hip. “Because you’re mine.”

“On paper,” she whispered.

“Is that all?” I whispered back, pushing her against the wall, my hands braced beside her head. “Then why did it feel so goddamn real when you touched me? When you called me darling and pressed your body into mine like it belonged there?”

“I was acting,” she said, but her voice quivered, her eyes darted between mine and my lips.

“Were you?” I murmured, catching her wrist gently.

Her eyes met mine. Wide. Breathless.

She didn’t fight me when I brought her hand down between us, slow and deliberate, until her palm rested against the throbbing ridge of my cock beneath my pants.

Her breath caught. Her eyes darkened.

Her eyes widened, pupils dilating. “Federico...”

“Because this?” I said, roughly. “This isn’t acting. This is what you do to me. What you’ve done since the moment I saw you. Tell me again it’s just on paper.”

She didn’t pull her hand away. Instead, her fingers curled slightly, exploring.

I groaned, dropping my forehead to rest against hers. “Autumn...”

“This doesn’t change anything,” she whispered, but her body said something different. The way she arched into me said something different.

“It changes enough,” I whispered.

For a moment, we stayed like that—her hand on me, my breath mingling with hers. Time stood still, stuck. And I wondered? What was Autumn Malone going to do next?