Page 7 of Pregnant Bratva Wife (Vadim Bratva #13)

I said “I do” to a stranger in a garden full of people I didn’t know.

When Federico leaned in for the kiss, I expected it to be perfunctory.

A peck.

Something to seal the deal, like signing on a dotted line.

But his lips lingered just long enough to make my heart skip, just soft enough to make me want more. It was still perfunctory… yet it wasn’t.

The bastard pulled away with a smirk, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

And just like that, I was Mrs. Lebedev. Wife to a man I’d known for exactly eleven days.

Mother of God, what had I done?

The wedding reception was... surreal. Held in the east wing of Federico’s mansion, the place looked like something straight out of a fairy tale.

Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, ice sculptures in every corner, tables draped in white silk, and floral arrangements so beautiful and large that the entire place looked and smelled like a botanical garden.

I tried to keep my face neutral, graceful, classy. Whatever that meant. I imagined Meghan whispering in my ear: Chin up, posture straight, fake it till you make it. But Meghan wasn’t here.

The thought stung.

I scanned the crowd, overwhelmed by soft lighting and clinking glasses and murmurs of “How divine.”

This world wasn’t mine.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Federico murmured, his hand at the small of my back as we entered.

“What thing?” I whispered back, trying to ignore how warm his hand felt through my dress.

“Looking like you’re planning an escape route.”

I forced on a bright, fake smile, not wanting him to see how terrified I was, and turned to face him. “I’m not a coward.”

He leaned in, laughed right into my ear, and whispered. “Good. Then you can take the guards head-on when you try to make your grand escape.”

I felt a shiver creep down my spine. He stood so close, so deliciously close.

“Are you threatening me on our wedding day?” I took a step back, but kept my voice sweet.

“Just making conversation,” he shrugged, one side of his lip curving up.

“Well, get better at it,” I hissed, wiping the smile off my face.

Before he could say another word, a group of well-wishers surrounded us, passing on their congratulations and telling us how lovely the ceremony was. One even went so far as to say they never thought The Federico Lebedev would ever settle down.

Guess that explained it. He was tired of how people viewed him. Bad for business, he had said. So, he decided to buy a wife.

What a privilege it is to be rich, I swear my thoughts grunted.

Just then, a woman with mahogany-colored hair, wearing enough perfume to bottle and diamonds to fund a small country’s economy, swooped in, pulling me into a hug.

“Darling,” she exclaimed, as if we were long-lost friends. “Simply gorgeous. Federico, you’ve been keeping her all to yourself!”

She leaned in and kissed both my cheeks, leaving behind the scent of perfume that made me want to sneeze. Her lips barely grazed my skin, the kind of air-kiss I’d only seen in movies about rich people.

“Margaret,” Federico nodded politely. “Thank you for coming.”

“As if I’d miss it! The most eligible bachelor in New York, finally tamed.”

She laughed, a tinkling sound. “Now tell me, dear, where did you two meet? Federico’s been so secretive.”

I opened my mouth, suddenly realizing we hadn’t actually agreed on our cover story.

“She hit my car,” Federico said smoothly, his arm sliding around my waist. “Best scratch I ever received.”

Margaret’s eyes widened. “How... interesting.”

“What can I say?” I shrugged. “I make quite an impact. Although I would suggest trying a different strategy if you’re looking for romance. Could’ve ended up costing me a lot,” I shrugged, genuinely honest.

“Oh, darling.” Her eyes widened as she looked at me like I was dirt. “Let’s not talk about money. It’s so unbecoming.”

So…unbecoming?

“What the hell does that mean?” I muttered.

Fortunately, she didn’t hear. Federico’s fingers tightened on my hip. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Margaret, I need to introduce my wife to the family.”

As we walked away, I let out a sigh. What was wrong with the people here? It was like they were a breed from another planet.

“Is everyone here that... sparkly?”

“Sparkly?” He raised an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean. Like they bathe in money.”

He literally closed his eyes and laughed. The crinkles around his eyes. God. Why hadn’t I noticed them before?

“Not everyone. My sisters, for instance, are relatively normal,” he says at last, having caught his breath.

“Normal by whose standards? Yours or mine?”

“You can judge for yourself.” He steered me toward a small group near the windows. “They’ve been dying to meet you.”

Two women detached themselves from the group and headed straight for us. The first had the sweetest smile, while the other had dark brown eyes and a beautiful, curvy figure.

“Finally!” the sweet-smiling one exclaimed while she nearly bounced with excitement. “We thought Federico was going to keep you hidden forever.”

“Beatrice,” Federico warned, but his tone was affectionate.

“Oh, hush.” She waved him off and grabbed my hands. “I’m Beatrice, the youngest and clearly the most charming. And this is Elena.”

Elena stepped forward with a warm smile. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Autumn. Welcome to the family.”

I’d expected cold politeness at best, suspicion at worst.

These women had every reason to question why their brother had suddenly married a complete stranger.

Instead, they were looking at me with genuine warmth.

“Thank you,” I managed, slightly overwhelmed. “It’s... nice to meet you both.”

“Is Federico being good to you?” Beatrice asked, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “He can be a grump sometimes.”

“I’m standing right here,” Federico pointed out.

“Exactly why I’m asking,” Beatrice grinned. “So?”

I found myself smiling back, a real smile this time. “He’s been... surprisingly tolerable.”

Elena laughed. “Tolerable is his best behaviour.”

“For Autumn, I’m more than tolerable,” Federico protested, his hand finding the small of my back again. “Autumn sets a very high bar.”

Something in his tone made my cheeks warm.

Wait. No. What?

What was I thinking? Getting swept up by his words? Had I forgotten we were putting on a show? He was only convincing his sisters that he was in love with me. Nothing more.

“Well, we’re thrilled to finally have another woman in the family,” Elena said. “You must come for lunch sometime. Just us girls.”

“Oh.” I was caught off guard by the invitation. “That would be... nice.”

“Wonderful!” Beatrice grinned. “And don’t worry, we’ll tell you all the embarrassing childhood stories Federico doesn’t want you to know.”

Federico groaned. “And that’s my cue to steal my wife away.”

As he guided me to the next group of guests, I leaned closer so only he could hear.

“They’re nothing like you,” I observed.

“Thank God for small mercies,” he said dryly.

“I meant that as a compliment to them.”

He laughed again, that rich sound that did something funny to my insides. “I know exactly what you meant, Mrs. Lebedev.”

The way he said my new name sent a shiver down my spine that I wish it hadn’t.

We made our way through the reception, with Federico introducing me to so many people that I lost count. He never left my side, his hand always resting somewhere on me—my back, my arm, occasionally my hand.

It was oddly comforting, even though I knew it was an act.

During a rare quiet moment, I found myself standing by the bar, sipping champagne. I watched Federico laughing with his brothers. Caspian and Dante, Luca and Achille.

They all looked so…affectionate. Being together was their safe space. Like when they were around each other, they needed no one else.

In that moment, I wished Megan could have been there.

I missed her. God, how I missed her today.

I wished it had been her in the dressing room with me, instead of those strangers.

The one who acted as my maid of honor, instead of, well, no one.

The one who stood by my side, like Federico’s siblings, stood by his.

But I didn’t want her to know of our arrangement. She would never have accepted it. Would have thought I was throwing away my life for hers. Would have dropped out of college.

I missed her… but it was for the best if she didn’t know.

I put down my glass, and Federico caught my eye across the crowd. He motioned for me to come over. Considering I knew literally no one else, I walked over.

At the same time, he walked towards me.

His eyes, glued to mine.

Mine to his.

Time stood still.

And when we met, that was when the wedding coordinator appeared and announced it was time for our first dance.

Federico held out his hand, waited.

Every eye in the room was on us.

“Ready?” he murmured.

No. Not even a little bit.

“As I’ll ever be,” I said instead.

Heat licked up my spine as I slid my fingers into his, letting him lead me to the center of the dance floor.

The lights dimmed. A hush fell over the crowd. Music swelled.

And then he pulled me in.

His hand found the curve of my waist, his fingers grazing bare skin. His other hand held mine, firm but teasing, like he could break me apart and put me back together if I let him.

I swallowed hard, my pulse fluttering as his body aligned with mine—tall, strong, towering.

“Relax,” he murmured as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

But how could I, when every inch of me was aware of him? The scent of him, the rough edge of stubble near his jaw. The heat of his hand so dangerously close to my ass.

He led, and I followed, breath tight in my chest, every nerve strung high.

It was just a dance.

So why did it feel like foreplay?

He spun me around, and I spun, my dress flaring around my legs. He reeled me back in, and I came like a fish to the hook, my hand automatically resting on his shoulder.

He pulled me in, flush against him, and I swear my knees almost gave way. His eyes softened as they met mine. Remained glued.

This was dangerous. The way my body responded to him, the way something inside me softened when he looked at me like that—it was a complication I couldn’t afford.

There were people watching, I reminded myself. We were putting on a show.

So we danced. For them.

Never for us.

“You dance well,” he whispered, when we were cheek to cheek.

“Don’t sound so shocked. Poor people have hobbies too,” I whispered back.

He chuckled. Spun me back out.

I smiled. I don’t know why. But I did. I liked hearing him laugh.

When the dance ended, the crowd applauded, and Federico stayed by my side.

The rest of the reception passed in a blur of cake cutting, toasts, and more dancing. By the time we finally said our goodbyes, I was exhausted.

We drove home in his car. No hotel rooms for us. No fancy honeymoon. Federico had suggested a getaway: a vacation to Italy or Mexico that the world could call a honeymoon. But I’d stood firm and said no.

I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, trying to process the fact that I was now legally married to the man beside me.

“You’re quiet,” Federico observed as we pulled into the driveway of the mansion.

“Just tired,” I said, which was true enough.

He nodded, coming around to open my door before I could do it myself.

Always the gentleman, even when no one was watching.

Inside, the house was quiet, the staff already gone. Federico loosened his tie, looking suddenly more human, less like the untouchable titan of industry.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked, heading toward the bar in the living room.

“No, I—” I stopped, then started again. “Actually, yes. Something strong.”

He poured two glasses and handed one to me. I took a sip and nearly choked as it burned down my throat.

“What is this, lighter fluid?”

He smiled. “Absinthe. You said strong.”

“Of course it is,” I muttered, taking another sip. This one went down smoother.

Federico watched me as I drank, and suddenly, I felt acutely aware of our situation.

Alone. Married. In his house.

My heart was racing, and words were bubbling up inside me like I couldn’t control them.

“I just want to be clear,” I blurted. “About tonight. About our arrangement.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“This is a business arrangement,” I said firmly. “Just because we’re married doesn’t mean we’re... You know.”

“No, I don’t know,” he said, his voice maddeningly calm. “Why don’t you explain?”

I could feel my cheeks heating. “Don’t be difficult. You know what I mean. We’re not... sleeping together.”

“I believe I agreed to that condition already.”

“Right. Good.” I twisted my hands around my glass. “And if you want to... You know, with other women, that’s fine. I mean, it’s not like this is a real marriage.”

He looked positively amused for some reason. “You’re giving me permission to cheat on my wife for six hours?”

“It’s not cheating if we have an understanding,” I said defensively.

“An understanding,” he repeated, setting his glass down and taking one step forward. “And what exactly is our understanding, Autumn?”

The way he said my name made my stomach flip. “That this is just for show. That I’m your wife on paper, but not... not in other ways.”

“Other ways,” he echoed, taking another step. “Such as?”

“You know what I mean,” I said, frustration mounting. “Physical ways. Bedroom ways.”

His mouth curved into that infuriating smirk. “I’m still not clear. Perhaps you should be more specific.”

“Oh my God.” I threw up my hands. “Are you seriously going to make me say it? We’re not having sex! Is that clear enough for you?”

He was laughing now, the bastard. “Crystal clear.”

“It’s not funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” he countered, wiping tears from his eyes. “Watching you try to dance around the subject.”

“I was trying to be polite,” I snapped.

“Since when?” He was grinning now, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

“You’re impossible,” I said, turning away to walk out.

He caught my arm, gently but firmly. “Autumn.”

I looked back at him, trying to ignore the warmth of his hand on my skin.

“I know the terms of our arrangement,” he said, his voice softer now. “I won’t push for anything you don’t want.”

I nodded, relief washing through me. “Good.”

“But,” he continued, his eyes holding mine, “I won’t apologize for finding my wife attractive.”

My breath caught. “Federico—”

“It’s just an observation,” he said, releasing my arm. “Not a demand.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just nodded again. “Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Lebedev.”

I hurried out of the living room, his words echoing in my head.

I won’t apologize for finding my wife attractive.

I shut my bedroom door behind me and leaned against it, closing my eyes. This was going to be more complicated than I’d thought.

Because the problem wasn’t that Federico might want more from our arrangement.

The problem was that, deep down in places I refused to acknowledge, I might want it too.