Page 21 of Pregnant Bratva Wife (Vadim Bratva #13)

But looking at Autumn’s determined face, I couldn’t bring myself to be the monster they feared.

“Go get it checked out,” I said. “The shift will be covered.”

The relief on the young man’s face was almost annoying to see. Did my employees seriously think I was that heartless? “Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Mrs. Lebedev.”

After he left, Autumn assisted the remaining bartenders in cleaning up the mess. I stood back, watching her chat easily with them as they swept up glass and mopped spilled liquor.

Something twisted in my chest. This woman—my wife on paper—was changing things.

Changing my people.

Changing me.

Once the floor was clean, I caught Autumn’s arm. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Of course.” She followed me to the small office in the back.

I closed the door behind us and turned to her, crossing my arms. “You know, in the old days, that kid would have been fired on the spot.”

She cocked an eyebrow at me. “And you’re proud of that, are you?”

“I’m proud of running a business as it should be,” I countered. “He cost us thousands in product.”

“He’s a kid working his way through college who made a simple mistake,” Her eyes flashed with that fire I’d come to admire.

“And he was injured!” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, pointedly.

And fuck me— that move didn’t help.

The V-neck of her satin top dipped just enough to make it impossible not to notice the swell of her breasts. That silky fabric clung to her like it had been tailored for my torment, tucked neatly into that black skirt that already had me two seconds from losing my mind.

I tried not to stare, but Jesus, she made it hard. Literally and figuratively.

Where was I? My brain scrambled. Words? Logic? Something about a bartender?

“Look.” I took a step closer and forced my eyes to stay locked on hers before I lost focus. Stay sharp. Stay in control . “The point is, you can’t coddle everyone who works for us. People will take advantage.”

“Is that what you call basic human decency? Coddling?” She didn’t back down. If anything, she moved closer, her blue eyes challenging me.

“Kindness doesn’t work here, Autumn. These guys will take it, twist it, and come back for more,” I managed, my voice strained even to my own ears.

“Let them try,” she said, eyes glinting. “I’m not stupid. And I’m not ashamed of giving a damn. You think it’s a weakness. I think it’s being human.”

She wasn’t just arguing. She was glowing—flushed cheeks, fire behind her words, chest rising with each breath. God, she was alive when she fought me like this. Fierce and bright and infuriatingly beautiful. My pulse thudded low in my gut.

She took another step closer, chin tipped up.

And I swear when I breathed, I didn’t for air, but rather, for that faint smell of her perfume that drifted toward me then.

I could feel the heat of her skin, the soft brush of her breath, the invisible pull that yanked me closer without a single hand being raised.

“You’re making my staff soft,” I murmured. My eyes darted down to her mouth, then her throat, then back to her eyes.

“And you’re afraid I’m making you soft too.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. I swear I heard her breath hitch.

I couldn’t deny it. Her kindness didn’t weaken me—it undid me. Bit by bit, touch by touch, look by look.

“Maybe I am,” I admitted.

She smiled then. Not smug. Knowing.

“Would that be so terrible?” she asked softly. “Being a little soft sometimes?”

“Depends on the circumstances,” I said, my voice dropping an octave—rougher, darker, impossible to hide anymore.

Her lips parted slightly, her breath catching. “What circumstances would those be?”

“Not the ones where I’m trying to maintain a professional relationship with my wife.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Is that what we’re doing?” she whispered, stepping in until there was no space left between us. Her fingers brushed my chest, light but loaded. “Being professional?”

That was it.

Control wasn’t just fraying—it snapped .

That mouth of hers parted like a challenge, her breathing uneven, her body just barely brushing mine.

We hovered there. Close. Too close.

Her eyes flicked to my mouth.

Just once.

But it was enough.

I dipped my head, slowly, like I was giving her time to pull away. Her breath hitched. Her lashes fluttered.

And when our lips finally brushed, every nerve in me lit on fire. She let out a gasp, pulled back for just a second, and I wondered if I’d misread her intent, but she slammed her lips against mine, her hands clenching into my shirt like she would drown if she didn’t kiss me.

And fuck. She was the very air I needed.

My hand slid into her hair, fingers threading through those waves as I pulled her in. She let out a moan, and I groaned when her hands reached for the back of my neck.

My thumb dragged across her jaw, holding her in place as I kissed her like I’d been dying to do since the moment I first saw her in that damn satin top.

Her breath hitched again, and she spoke against my lips. “Federico…”

I kissed her deeper.

Harder.

Because that was the first time she’d said my name like that.

And I wanted to hear more of it.