Page 25 of Pregnant Bratva Wife
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.”
