Page 20 of Pregnant Bratva Wife (Vadim Bratva #13)

Autumn had a way of slipping into places she didn’t belong and making everyone act like she’d always been there.

At first, I thought bringing her into the casinos would be a one-time thing.

A curiosity to indulge. A favor. But she kept showing up, kept asking questions, kept learning fast enough to be useful.

Before long, the staff stopped asking who she was.

She had a seat in the back office, as if she owned it.

I started lying to myself—small lies, quiet ones. Every morning, I told myself it made sense to have Autumn around. I said it was practical, said she had a sharp eye for detail, that her presence was good for business. As if that was the reason I kept looking forward to the paperwork.

But in all honesty, when I saw her walking around whatever establishment we were working out of that day, I felt my chest tighten in ways that had nothing to do with business and everything to do with the way she moved in my space.

Three weeks. That’s how long she’d been coming into work. Now, she was at the bars too—specifically my bar on 2nd Street.

It was stupid, probably. Letting her this far in. Letting myself… like it.

But I did.

She had a thing for sorting invoices and cleaning up the mess my men left behind.

Not the blood kind—just the disorganized, chaotic shit they’d never notice.

And I had a thing for watching her do it.

Brow furrowed, hair tied up, mumbling to herself while flipping through stacks of papers like she was solving crimes.

She made the boring parts feel important, like even the ugly parts of my life could be handled gently.

I told myself that was all it was. Gratitude. Utility. Nothing more.

I lied.

And every day, she slipped further under my skin.

I sat in my office at The Royal Flush, pretending to review security reports while actually waiting for Autumn, who was due any minute to give me a daily brief.

“You’re staring at that clock like it owes you money,” Dante said, appearing in my doorway. He walked in without invitation, dropped into the chair across from me, and propped his feet on my desk like the disrespectful little shit he was.

I shoved his feet off. “Don’t you have your own office to destroy?”

“Yours is more fun. Speaking of fun, your wife’s winning over the staff. Heard she threw the head chef a surprise birthday party last week.”

I leaned back in my chair. “That’s Autumn for you.”

“And you’re not worried about her digging too deep?” Dante raised an eyebrow.

“She’s only handling the legitimate side.” I kept my voice casual, but we both knew this was dangerous territory. Bringing Autumn into any part of the business carried risks—for her and for us.

“If you say so.” Dante’s eyes narrowed. “But that’s not why you’re watching the clock, is it?”

I shot him a look that would have sent most men running. Dante just grinned wider.

“You’re not even trying to hide it anymore. You go all soft when she walks in.”

“I don’t go soft,” I growled.

“Not what I heard,” he teased.

I reached for the paperweight on my desk. “Say one more word, and this is going through your skull.”

He raised his hands in surrender, but the smirk didn’t leave his face. “All I’m saying is, I’ve never seen you like this. And it’s... nice.”

Nice. Like I was some lovestruck teenager instead of a grown man with a business arrangement. I opened my mouth to tell him exactly how wrong he was when my phone buzzed.

A text from Autumn: Running 10 minutes late. Got held up at the bank. Don’t send a search party.

I felt myself smiling before I could stop it. I quickly schooled my expression, but it was too late. Dante had seen.

“God, you’re a lost cause,” he said, standing. “I’ll leave you to your pining. Oh, and Caspian wants to see you before the meeting tonight.”

He left before I could throw something at his head. I turned back to my reports, but my concentration was gone. After a few minutes of staring at the same paragraph, I gave up and headed to the floor.

I remembered the day last week when we’d bumped into Caspian as we were leaving the casino.

Autumn had been walking beside me, carrying a folder of reports she wanted to review at home.

I’d warned her against taking work outside the building, but she’d insisted, saying she had a theory about a pattern in the cash flows.

“Federico! Autumn!” Caspian stopped us in our path. “Just the people I wanted to see.”

Autumn had smiled warmly. “Caspian, hi. How are you?”

“Better now that I’ve heard what you’ve been up to.” He’d turned to me with an approving nod. “Smart move, bringing her in. I’ve seen the reports.”

“Reports?” Autumn had asked.

“About the thieves you caught.” Caspian’s eyes gleamed with appreciation. “Two dealers and a floor supervisor, right? Working together to skim from the high roller tables?”

Autumn had blushed, waving away the praise. “It was just math.”

“Just math that our professional accountants missed for six months,” Caspian had pointed out. “Don’t be modest. You’ve got a knack for this.”

I’d watched her face as she tried to hide how pleased she was. Something warm had spread through my chest—pride, I realized.

Pride in her.

“It’s nothing,” she’d insisted. “Anyone would have caught it eventually.”

“Not true,” I’d said before I could stop myself.

Now, as I walked the casino floor, I found myself checking my watch every few minutes like a teenager waiting for his prom date. God. Why the hell was she taking so long?

Work could…wait?

But I sure as hell couldn’t.

***

The Black Diamond was our newest bar, an upscale and trendy establishment that quickly became a hotspot for New York’s rich heirs and heiresses. It was also one of the cleaner operations—perfect for Autumn’s involvement.

“Let me grab my tablet,” she said when we walked in on Monday morning.

I immediately noticed how Autumn remembered everyone’s names, asked about their weekends, and made each person feel seen.

It was so different from how I operated. Autumn earned respect through genuine kindness. And I? Probably through fear.

Okay. Not probably.

Definitely.

We headed to the back office, where the bar manager was waiting with the schedules. As Autumn dove into the paperwork, I stepped out to talk to the head of security.

When I returned twenty minutes later, she was engrossed in conversation with the bar manager, explaining a more efficient rotation system. The man was nodding eagerly, clearly impressed.

“Problem solved?” I asked.

She looked up with that satisfied smile she got when she solved a problem around here. “Mostly. We just need to hire one more person for the Thursday night shift, and we’ll be covered.”

“I’ll take care of it,” the manager said, gathering his papers.

After he left, Autumn turned to me. “I love this place. It’s so different from the casino—more relaxed.”

“It’s doing well,” I agreed. “Revenue’s up thirty percent since opening.”

“I’m not surprised. The staff is excellent.” She glanced at her watch. “Should we go check out the new bar setup for tonight?”

“Sure,” I shrugged, following her out.

I didn’t want to look at her like that—not here, not when we were supposed to be working—but fuck, she made it hard. She had on this knee-length black skirt that clung to her ass every time she walked, and I swear to God, it was like the thing was painted on. Smooth, tight, perfectly indecent.

And she had no idea.

She walked ahead of me down the hallway, her hips swaying, tossing me a grin over her shoulder like she knew exactly what she was doing.

I bit down a groan.

Useful, I reminded myself. She’s useful.

But the truth was, I wasn’t thinking about bar setups anymore. I was thinking about dragging her into the storage room, locking the door, and pulling that skirt up just far enough to make her forget her own damn name.

We headed out to the main floor, where the afternoon staff was preparing for the evening rush.

As we walked past the main bar, one of the bartenders was unloading a case of whiskey. I saw it happening before I could call out a warning—the box slipped, sending several bottles crashing to the floor.

Glass shattered across the polished wood, and in panic, the bartender bent down, tried to pick up the pieces with his bare hands.

“Shit!” The young man clutched his bleeding hand, his face draining of color.

Before I could react, Autumn was already moving. She grabbed a clean bar towel and rushed to the bartender’s side, crouching before him, murmuring softly.

The kid was half her size and twice as jumpy, but he was listening to her like she’d hung the damn moon.

“I told you to let broken glass be once before,” she said with a calm smile. “Glass isn’t worth your fingers.”

He nodded, red-faced.

Then he looked at me, panic in his eyes. I knew what he was thinking—he’d just destroyed several thousand dollars’ worth of premium liquor.

In the old days, that might have meant serious consequences.

“It’s fine,” I said, my voice gruffer than intended. “Let her help you.”

He reluctantly extended his bleeding hand. Autumn gently wrapped the towel around it, applying pressure.

“Okay, Alex. This looks deep. We need to clean it properly.” She turned to me. “Is there a first aid kit?”

I nodded to the manager, who hurried to retrieve it.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Lebedev,” Alex stammered. “The box was heavier than I thought and—”

“Accidents happen,” Autumn interrupted before I could speak. “What matters is that you’re okay.”

I watched as she carefully cleaned the wound.

When she finished bandaging his hand, she smiled encouragingly. “You should probably get this looked at by a doctor. Those stitches might be needed.”

“I can’t leave my shift,” he said, looking anxiously at me.

“Yes, you can,” Autumn said firmly, then glanced at me. “Right, Federico?”

All eyes turned to me. I could feel the staff watching, waiting to see how I’d respond. They expected me to be harsh.