Page 16 of Pregnant Bratva Wife
And just like that, I was alone with Margot. I walked through the racks, afraid to even touch a single dress. All of these looked like something the Duchess of Cambridge would have chosen for her wedding.
“These are all...” I gestured helplessly at the gowns.
“The finest selection in New York,” Margot finished proudly. “Mr. Lebedev was very specific about wanting you to have the best.”
Of course he was. Everything about this situation screamed excess.
Margot held up the first dress, a confection of lace and crystals that sparkled under the lights. “Shall we try this one first?”
For the next hour, I tried on dress after dress, each one more extravagant and expensive than the last. Margot insisted on the full experience—veil, shoes, jewelry. It felt surreal to stand there in gowns that cost tens of thousands of dollars, preparing for a wedding I never wanted.
And yet...
When I slipped into the sixth dress, something changed. It was simpler than the others—still elegant, with delicate beading across the bodice and a flowing skirt that moved like water when I walked. The neckline dipped just low enough to be classy yet revealing, and the back was a work of art, with tiny sequins over mesh trailing down my spine.
“Oh,” Margot breathed. “This is the one.”
I stared at my reflection, hardly recognizing the woman looking back at me.
She looked... beautiful. Confident. Like someone who belonged in this world of wealth and privilege.
“What do you think?” Margot asked, arranging the train behind me.
“It’s...” I swallowed hard. “It’s beautiful.”
It was the first sincere thing I’d said since agreeing to this arrangement.
The dress was stunning, and for a brief moment, I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like if this were real—if I were marrying Federico because we were in love, not because I was desperate and he was... whatever he was.
Margot added a simple veil and stepped back. “Perfect.”
I turned slowly, watching the fabric swirl around my legs, and caught a glimpse of movement in the mirror’s reflection.
Federico stood in the doorway, watching me.
How long had he been there? His dark eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle with heat.
Our eyes locked in the mirror, and my heart did a stupid little flip in my chest. He looked at me like I was something precious, something he wanted to possess completely.
And for a moment—just a moment—I forgot why I was here. Forgot that this was a business arrangement born of desperation. Forgot everything except the way he was looking at me.
Then reality crashed back, and irritation flooded through me—directed at him for putting me in this position, but mainly at myself for that flutter of attraction I couldn’t seem to suppress.
“Enjoying the show?” I snapped. “Or is lurking outside changing rooms how all rich perverts get their kicks?”
Margot let out a little ‘oh’, like a shocked old lady. She muttered something about leaving us to decide and scurried off.
Chapter 5 - Federico
A low laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Christ, she was fire.
Pervert. That was a new one. Women usually tried to do one of two things: flatter me or seduce me.
But Autumn? Beautiful, infuriating Autumn in that dress that hugged her waist so damn tight? Gorgeous, firecracker Autumn with that blonde hair spilling over skin that glowed?
That Autumn looked me dead in the eye and called me a pervert.
She looked like a fucking angel—with the mouth of a devil.
