Page 31 of Pregnant Bratva Wife
I saw too much blood.
Bar fight, my ass.
I’d seen enough bar fights during my waitressing days to know what they looked like. Where was the black eye? The split lip?
Federico’s face was untouched. All I saw was blood on his jacket. A pool of dried blood. The kind that didn’t come from having been punched.
Federico was lying. The question was: about what?
Eventually, I fell asleep. But when I woke up the next morning, I thought again of last night. After showering and a quick breakfast, I asked the staff where Federico was.
He had left for work.
Bingo.
That was it. The perfect opportunity.
My mind had been oscillating between worry and curiosity. To understand what could have happened to put Federico in that frightful state.
And there was only one way I could think of to make that happen.
I waited until the housekeeping staff cleaned up and left, then headed straight to his office. Although Federico never indicated any part of the house to be out of bounds to me,somewhere in my heart, I knew he wouldn’t have appreciated me entering his office without him being present.
I looked left and right, and only when I was certain that the coast was clear did I creak open that door.
The door wasn’t locked.
Thank God.
My hands felt clammy, and my throat was dry. I knew this wasn’t right. I shouldn’t have been snooping around like some desperate housewife.
But I was worried sick, and he hadn’t given me a clear answer to the events of last night.
I closed the door softly behind me and, for a moment, stopped. Took in the scene.
His office?
It reeked of influence: beautiful wood paneling, emerald-green leather couches, wooden flooring, large wall-to-wall bookshelves, a sleek mahogany desk, a liquor cabinet, and a cigar collection.
It was the kind of place where important people did important things.
For a brief moment, I thought of walking out, of leaving it untainted. This was a place of good. Where businesses were built, and people were employed.
But I couldn’t force the sight of him injured, bleeding, out of my mind.
In and out, Autumn. I promised myself. I didn’t plan to linger.
I rushed to his computer. To understand what trouble Federico was in meant knowing what he had done. I needed to tap into his communications.
His computer was password-protected. No surprise there. But the drawers...
The top right drawer was simple office supplies and notepads. I opened the one on the left next and found something interesting—‘Bank Statements.’
I pulled it out, wondering what kind of companies he dealt with.
My eyes widened at the numbers.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
