Page 29 of Pregnant Bratva Wife (Vadim Bratva #13)

She kissed me.

She kissed me.

Autumn. The woman I thought I’d lost. The mother of my unborn child.

Her mouth was warm and wild against mine, her body pressed so close I could feel every tremble, every sharp inhale like she was coming apart just from being near me again.

And Christ, I needed to feel her. Just kissing her transported me back in time to a wild, primal truth: that this woman was my boon and bane. For her, I’d fucking destroy and create.

She felt like my everything.

And I needed her to feel what I felt. I kissed harder, fiercer. Slid a hand around the base of her neck, threaded fingers through her hair, and scratched against her scalp.

She moaned and shifted closer, until her breasts were pushed up against my chest, until the air I breathed was what she released. I slid my tongue inside her mouth, warred with hers. Slanted it up, felt the ridges of her palate.

I slid one hand around her waist and drew her closer.

I wasn’t soft. I wasn’t careful.

I was fucking desperate.

Furious for the weeks I lost with her. All because of my foolishness.

God , I needed to taste her. To own her.

“Federico,” she breathed against my mouth.

I growled in response, teeth grazing her bottom lip. “I missed you so fucking much .”

Her hands were on me now, tugging at my shirt, clutching at my collar like she wanted to rip it off. I growled and dragged my hand down her spine, then cupped her ass, yanking her flush against the growing strain in my jeans. She whimpered, and that sound made me snap.

I twisted her hair just enough to tilt her head back. Her eyes locked with mine—dark, needy, a bit wild.

Then she was unbuckling my belt with shaking fingers while I pushed her jeans down over her hips, groaning at the sight of the lace beneath. My mouth found hers again, then her jaw, then lower, sucking a line down her throat.

“I missed you,” I muttered against her skin. “Felt like a fucking ghost without you.”

Her hands were working on my trousers now. The button. The zipper. Pants off. Her touch brushed against my hardness, and I hissed through my teeth.

“I need you,” I murmured, pulling back just enough to see her face. “All of you.”

Her eyes were dark with desire, cheeks flushed. She nodded once. She gasped as I bit gently at her shoulder, and in the same breath, I tore open the buttons of her blouse, exposing the swell of her breasts in a lacy bra that had no business staying on.

I got it off within seconds and watched her perfect breasts heaving with each ragged breath. My mouth watered at the sight.

“Beautiful,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss the hollow of her throat. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Autumn, that sometimes I wonder if you’re real.”

I palmed her breasts, thumbing over her nipples until she arched into me, moaning like she was already halfway gone. I pushed her back onto the couch, breathing heavy as I knelt between her legs and dragged her jeans and panties down together.

Her thighs parted for me instinctively—just like they always did.

And there she was.

Mine.

Goddamn beautiful.

I took a moment—just one—to look at her: flushed face, heaving chest, perfect breasts rising and falling, her body laid out like a dream I never thought I’d be allowed to touch again.

Then I lowered my mouth to her center and made her scream.

I gripped her thighs tighter, holding her in place as I devoured her.

God, she tasted divine. Sweet and musky and mine.

I lapped at her like a man starved, circling her clit with the tip of my tongue before sucking it between my lips.

Her hands flew to my hair, fingers tangling in the strands, pulling just enough to make my scalp tingle.

I looked up at her from between her legs, taking in the sight of her—head thrown back, lips parted, breasts heaving with each gasping breath.

I redoubled my efforts, sliding two fingers inside her while my tongue continued lapping on her clit. She cried out, her back arching off the couch. I curled my fingers, finding that spot inside her that I knew would drive her wild.

“Oh God, Federico—”

“That’s it,” I murmured against her. “Let go for me.”

I felt it when she came—the tight clench of her walls around my fingers, the way her thighs trembled against my shoulders. Her moans—her pleasure— ruined me.

I rose above her, dragging my mouth up her stomach, her ribs, her chest, then kissed her hard as I positioned myself between her thighs. She was still trembling as I pushed inside her.

She gasped, clinging to me.

And fuck, the way she looked beneath me—lips parted, lashes fluttering, pure need painted across her face—it made something inside me snap.

If I could, I’d have fucked her all night.

Owned every sound, every shiver, every inch of her until neither of us could remember who we were without each other.

***

We didn’t talk after.

She said she was tired and disappeared into her guest room. And I didn’t stop her.

Alone in my bed that night, staring at the ceiling, I finally admitted to myself what I’d been fighting for weeks.

I was in love with my wife. Completely, stupidly in love with her.

I hadn’t realized it when I had her, hadn’t realized it when she left. I was too god damn torn and furious at myself to have felt anything beyond anger. But now that I had her back, now that the pain of loss wasn’t an all-encompassing, urgent presence, I realized I loved her.

Because I let her go when she needed me to let her go. Because I couldn’t let the anger I felt at her keeping our child a secret hinder me from holding her when she needed me most. Because I realized that for her happiness, I had to forego my pride.

God, I loved her.

The realization didn’t surprise me as much as it should have. Maybe I’d known all along, from that first moment I saw her. Maybe that’s why I’d been so desperate to make her mine, by any means necessary.

Love at first sight? Maybe not a myth, after all?

But even if I loved her, I couldn’t tell her. Words meant nothing after what I’d done.

I had to show her, through my actions, through consistency, and through honesty, that she could trust me again. That I could be the man she deserved and the kind of father our child deserved.

***

The next morning, I woke up before Autumn did. I walked past her door and peeked in when she didn’t answer my knocks. She was sleeping so peacefully, one hand tucked under her pillow, dead to the world.

Usually, she woke around the same time, but I figured with the pregnancy, she must have been exhausted. I gently closed the door, not wanting to disturb her.

It hit me then— really hit me.

She was carrying my child.

I was going to be a father.

The weight of it settled in my chest—not the crushing kind. The real kind. Heavy because it mattered .

We’re having a baby.

My mind started spinning, but not in panic. In motion. Planning. Providing.

She’d need a better mattress. More pillows.

Something for her back. I’d have to talk to the doctor again.

Set up the first real OB-GYN appointment.

Perhaps I could arrange for her to be seen at the private clinic in New York with the best prenatal care.

No, wait— Florence had that specialist Beatrice mentioned once, who does video calls.

Her vitamins. I’d make sure she had the good kind—the ones without the crap filler ingredients.

Folic acid, calcium, and iron. I needed to remember all of that.

And she needed to eat more. Properly. No more skipped breakfasts or just coffee.

I’d hire a chef with expertise in prenatal nutrition if I had to.

And what about security? Was the house safe enough? Cameras, backup generators, reinforced doors—yeah. But still. I’d double-check it all.

I rubbed my jaw as I made my way into the dining room. I could barely focus on what I was eating because my mind wandered between all the things I needed to do for Autumn.

I’d never daydreamed like this before. I wasn’t that kind of man. But damn if I didn’t want this now. Her. This baby. All of it. I wasn’t going to fuck it up this time.

I had barely eaten a few bites when my thoughts came to a screeching halt. My phone. It was ringing somewhere.

I patted down my suit, still half distracted by thoughts of Autumn, when I finally found it.

“Dante?”

“Federico. We need you. The warehouse up north was hit early this morning,” he said. “Caspian wants us there now.”

I glanced at the clock. It was just past seven a.m. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

I dressed quickly, grabbing my gun from the safe. When I went to check on Autumn before I left, she was still asleep. I left a note on her nightstand explaining where I’d gone and promised to be back soon.

The warehouse was in chaos when I arrived. Every window had been smashed. Many of our loading machines were smashed up.

I immediately went to look for Caspian and found him huddled in a corner, speaking to Achille.

“What happened?” I asked, joining them.

“At around six, four men in masks came in guns blazing,” Caspian said grimly. “They took out two of our guys and wounded three more.”

“What did they take?”

“That’s the strange part,” Achille looked worried. “Nothing. They had access to the safe, the product, everything. But they didn’t touch any of it.”

A warning bell went off in my head. “Nothing?”

“Not a damn thing,” Caspian confirmed.

Dante and Giovanni arrived, bringing coffee for everyone. We spent the next hour surveying the damage, reviewing the CCTV footage, and speaking with our men, trying to make sense of an attack with no apparent motive.

But I couldn’t focus. My thoughts kept drifting back to Autumn. To our baby. To Igor Petrov, who began appearing in my office, threatening me for more money. To how meaningless this attack seemed.

Something wasn’t right.

“You okay?” Dante asked, noticing my distraction.

“I…I think it was a dupe,” I said suddenly.

Caspian looked at me. “What?”

“This whole thing. It’s meant to draw us out. Keep us busy. I mean, they took nothing! What if they wanted our eyes here so they could send men elsewhere?”

“Fuck!” Giovanni hissed.

Cold dread settled in my stomach. “Call your wives. Make sure they’re okay. Call Beatrice and Elena. Warn our allies. NOW. I have to head home.”

I didn’t waste a second. I pulled out my phone and called Autumn on my way to the car. God, the phone rang for so long. My heart rate accelerated with each unanswered tone.

Finally, she picked up. “Federico?”

Relief flooded me, but it was short-lived. Her voice was wrong—tight with panic.

“What’s wrong?” I demanded.

“You need to come home,” she said, voice shaking. “Now.”

“Autumn—”

“They have Megan,” she choked out. “They said if I don’t bring them two hundred thousand in cash, they’ll—” Her voice broke, “Oh god. I don’t have that kind of cash lying around. Please. Federico. COME HOME NOW! I need a suitcase. How do I fit in all this cash?”

“I’m on my way,” I said, already running to my car. “Don’t do anything. Don’t go anywhere. Just wait for me.”

“They said I have to come alone, Federico. Where do I get—”

“Listen to me,” I cut her off, my voice deadly calm despite the rage building inside me. “Do not leave that house. I will handle this. I promise you. Just wait for me.”

I hung up and peeled out of the parking lot. Autumn was alright, thank god. At least, physically.

I had to get home to her—before she made a rash decision. Before she did something stupid.

I drove so fucking fast that I reached home within fifteen minutes.

By the time I turned onto my driveway, I was running on fury and pure instinct.

They threatened her sister.

My family.

I parked halfway on the gravel, jumped out, and slammed the door shut so hard the echo rang through the courtyard.

I was already pulling my jacket off as I entered the house. “Autumn!”

She appeared instantly—barefoot, frantic, her hair a mess of curls like she’d been pulling at it. She was clutching a duffel bag in one hand, a thin wad of bills thrown inside it.

When she saw me, she nearly collapsed with relief—but then straightened, wild-eyed.

“We don’t have time! They have Megan, Federico.

They have her. They told me I need to come alone with two hundred in cash.

Alone, Federico. Or they’ll hurt her. I have to go now.

Did you bring the cash? I only found a couple of thousand around the house. ”

“No,” I barked.

She froze.

“I mean it,” I growled, stepping between her and the door. “You’re not going anywhere.”