Page 4 of Pregnant Bratva Wife (Vadim Bratva #13)

The drive was mostly silent.

I didn’t see how it could be anything but. We were two strangers, entering a life together, and I, for one, couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

I stared out the window, pretending to admire the city rolling past us, when really, all I could focus on was him. His presence. The sensation that I sometimes felt his gaze on me. The fact that the air between us crackled with a current I didn’t know what to do with.

Federico. My husband-to-be.

Sometimes, I stole a glance in his direction.

Caught a glimpse of his side profile, all chiseled angles, as he turned the wheel.

My eyes dropped to his hands. Big, strong hands, maneuvering this expensive fucking car like a little Lego toy.

He drove so casually, one hand on the automatic, head tilted at an angle, one on the wheel. As cool as could be.

I never felt more out of place. When I was a teenager, I had numerous posters of models, singers, actors, and athletes on my bedroom walls.

They seemed like these otherworldly men, too handsome, too powerful, too intriguing to exist in my world.

The kind of men who would never have spared a glance in my direction.

And as Federico drove me to his house, I felt like I had been thrown back to my childhood bedroom. Except in this scenario, an otherworldly man was interested in me.

Why? When he could have had anyone he wanted? Why marry a girl who came with debt? Who offered him nothing someone else couldn’t have?

Every inch of him screamed power. Sometimes, our eyes met when he threw the occasional glance my way. And the way he looked? So intense. So confident. It made my stomach tighten with nerves I shouldn’t have felt.

“You can turn on some music, if you like,” he offered, jolting me from my thoughts. I actually jumped.

“Oh, um.” I eyed what looked like a fifty-thousand-dollar music system. I was more of a Honda girl. Cars like these? Totally out of my league.

He looked over at me, noticed the confusion between my furrowed brows as I eyed the stereo. Without a word, he leaned over, put something on. I winced, thinking he’d make a wisecrack. But, to my relief and surprise, he didn’t say anything except, “Well, I hope you like this track.”

“It’s fine,” I muttered, leaning back and pretending the city held my interest.

A few minutes later, he started whistling.

And of course, he could whistle. Perfectly. Naturally.

God, how was it possible for someone to radiate so much presence while literally just driving?

I sat rigid in the passenger seat, each mile taking me farther from my old life and closer to whatever twisted fairy tale I had just agreed to.

But this wasn’t a fairy tale. It was a transaction.

And yet… my skin prickled every time his fingers tapped the wheel.

Every time he adjusted his cuff. Every time he asked softly, “You doing okay?”

No, I wasn’t doing okay. I was moving into a stranger’s home to marry him for money.

How do you answer that?

So I just said, “Mm-hmm.”

Forty minutes later, we turned onto a drive, and the houses began to change. Bigger. Newer. The kind with gates and security systems. I sat up straighter, taking it all in. I’d never been to this part of town.

Federico glanced over at me. “We’ll be home soon.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Home. My home. The panic rose like a tsunami.

“What the hell did I just agree to?” I mumbled under my breath, not thinking straight.

His head snapped in my direction, and I bit my lip as I winced. “Shit. Did I just say that out loud?”

Way to go, Autumn. Antagonize the rich guy who’s paying your debts. Smart move.

To my surprise, he chuckled. “I appreciate your honesty.”

“Yeah, well, it’s free. About the only thing I can afford right now,” I said.

For some reason, his jaw twitched.

Once again, we fell into silence.

Soon enough, we pulled up outside a double-sided, huge iron wrought gate. Two men appeared, guards, I think, who let us through.

The man had guards. Like some fucking billionaire or politician. Actual armed men.

Federico drove down a long, winding driveway.

And I do mean long.

Until finally, the car stopped in front of the main entrance to a mansion.

I stared out of the window and had to literally force my mouth to stay glued shut.

His house—or rather, estate—looked like something out of a billionaire’s wet dream.

Three stories high. Marble columns. Actual fountains.

The kind of place with more bathrooms than people.

The kind of place that had a staff. That too, by the banks of a goddamn actual lake.

I took a few calming, purposeful breaths, as if that would somehow shrink it all down into something more digestible.

My fingers dug into the seatbelt as he got out and circled around to open my door.

“I can get it,” I mumbled, but he ignored me, holding it open.

The moment my feet hit the ground, I felt out of place. The kind of out of place that went bone-deep.

This wasn’t just a nicer neighborhood. This was another planet.

“You live here?” I couldn’t keep the disbelief from my voice as I continued to gawk at the surroundings.

“We live here now,” he corrected.

Holy crap, I just agreed to marry Bruce Wayne.

“You okay?” he asked, watching me.

I lifted my chin. “Just wondering how many trust funds it took to build this place.”

“Just one.” He gave me that maddening smirk. “Mine.”

Of course.

Inside, the place was even more overwhelming. Drop-dead gorgeous, outrageously expensive, it smelled like a botanical garden and was very, very quiet. Marble floors. Glass chandeliers. A spiral staircase that looked like it belonged in a movie.

“What do you do for a living again?” I asked, as he guided me in.

I should have at least googled him before I made that call asking if the offer still stood.

Should have known what the man did for a living before marrying him.

But Megan was in trouble, and I was panicking.

There simply hadn’t been time to do that sort of thing.

“Import export. Have a few ventures in hospitality. Run a bunch of restaurants. Own a few trucking and shipping fleets,” he shrugged, like he was telling me he graduated from high school.

That explained it. The maid who came rushing by to offer us water. The butler who took our coats. Another who insisted he’ll grab my luggage and have it sent up to my room.

My room. In his house.

The house I found it hard to breathe in. The house that was to be mine because I agreed to marry him in order to have my debts settled. And suddenly, I forced myself to get back to reality, to not be swept away by this ostentatious display of wealth. To remember that I was here on a mission.

I swirled to him, went right for the jugular. “You said you’d help with my sister. Pay off my mom’s debt. Take care of us. I need to know that wasn’t all talk.”

“And I will.” He walked closer, until his drop-dead-gorgeous eyes were all I saw. “The five thousand you need immediately will be wired today. The rest will be taken care of after the wedding.”

“Which is when, exactly?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“This weekend.”

“This weekend?” I nearly choked. “As in, three days from now?”

He nodded, unfazed, and took one step closer. “Is that a problem?”

His perfume hit me first, and I hated that my body noticed how fucking masculine it was.

I wanted to step back. Instead, my feet stayed rooted, like some pathetic part of me wanted to inhale more of him.

His eyes remained fixed on mine, flickering.

The air around us steamed, like there wasn’t enough for two.

“No.” I kept my voice strong and stared back defiantly, trying really hard to stop thinking about how handsome he looked. “That was the deal. But just so we’re clear? You might be used to getting your way with everyone else—but I won’t be another yes-woman in your perfect mansion.”

He let out a low, amused breath. “Good. I was hoping you wouldn’t make this boring.”

His gaze dipped—just once—down the length of me, then back up, like a silent dare. Every nerve in my body lit up in response, and I hated how alive he made me feel. Wouldn’t let him. Couldn’t let him.

I stood taller, raised my head. “And I want these promises in writing before the wedding.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his features. “You don’t trust me?”

“I don’t know you,” I countered. “And I need to know that if this... arrangement... doesn’t work out from your end, I’m not left empty-handed.”

He considered me for a long moment, then nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll have my lawyers draft something.”

“Today,” I insisted.

His mouth curved. “Today.”

We stared at each other, the air between us charged with tension from our first encounter.

“Now,” he said, taking a step back, giving me the reprieve to breathe finally. “Let me show you to your room. You’ll want to settle in before we head out this afternoon. You will find your things already there. The maid will bring you some lunch.”

“What’s happening in the afternoon?” I asked out of curiosity.

“Your bridal dress fitting.” He broke into a devilish smile.

What the actual fuck? A bridal dress fitting for a wedding that’ll take place in three days?

My stomach dropped to the floor. All of this suddenly seemed too real. But at the same time, he hadn’t proved himself to be my safe place. He wasn’t the type of man I wanted to look vulnerable to. I didn’t want him to know how unnerving the idea felt when I was the one who called him for this deal.

So, I kept my face unbothered. Tough. “Tell her to bring caffeine, too. I’m going to need it to survive this circus,” I said, and took my own step back.

He grinned.

***

My bedroom was bigger than Chloe’s entire apartment. The bathroom had a freaking Jacuzzi. And my bed? I had collapsed onto it the moment Federico showed me to my room. The mattress was so soft, it practically swallowed me.

All of this was insane.