Page 27 of Pregnant Bratva Wife
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.
Chapter 7 - Federico
Everyone at work was surprised to see me come in this morning.
So soon after your wedding? My secretary had proclaimed in shock, like there was something wrong with my marriage already.
The truth was, I had tried working from home.
But she was in the same house.
And when I heard footsteps, or her quiet chatter with the maids, or a glimpse of her face in the hallways when I stepped out for a stretch, I lost focus.
All I could do, for the next hour, was to force my heart to calm.
That was no way to work. So I drove out here.
The office was quiet, and there, I could focus peacefully on our monthly metrics. Numbers kept my mind sharp, clean, and orderly.
Until Caspian threw the door open.
“We need to go,” he snapped.
When I looked up, he looked pale and panicked.
“What happened?” I asked, immediately shutting the books to grab my coat.
He tossed a gun onto my desk. “It’s Dante. The Espositos hit the south-side warehouse. Four of his men are already down, and he needs back-up. Now.”
My blood turned to fire.
“They attacked?” I growled, following him out the door. “On our turf?”
Caspian nodded. “Giovanni is already there.”
We rushed down the hallway, taking the private elevator to the underground garage. Achille and Luca were already waiting by the convoy.
“What was Dante even doing there?” I demanded as we climbed into one of the cars. “That shipment wasn’t scheduled to leave until tomorrow.”
Caspian’s jaw tightened. “He moved it up and paid someone along the Suez Canal to let the ship pass without tariffs. Wanted to time the arrival so his guy could be there. Didn’t tell anyone except his own crew.”
Fucking Dante. Always thought he knew better. Always cut corners. Always put himself in danger because he couldn’t follow a goddamn plan.
“Fuck the Espositos,” Achille growled.
The Espositos. Our rivals for three generations. The thorn in our side that refused to be plucked. First, the railyard ambush, now this. They were growing bolder and more desperate. More dangerous.
“How did they even know?” Luca turned to look at us from up front.
“We probably have a leak in our midst,” Achille said—it was what we were all thinking.
I clenched my fists. A leak meant a traitor. A traitor meant someone close to us was soon to be dead—they just didn’t know it then.
“First things first,” I said, checking my gun again. “We get Dante out.”
Twenty minutes later, we pulled up a block away from the warehouse. The area was industrial, desolate. The perfect place to ambush without witnesses.
