Page 68 of Pregnant Bratva Wife
“No, I—tonight works.” I stood up to leave before he changed his mind, feeling strangely victorious.
***
The casino gleamed like a jewelry box from the outside: a beautiful porch, valet service, expensive cars, and an actual red carpet.
“The Royal Flush,” I read the elegant sign as Federico helped me out of the car. “Subtle.”
He shrugged. “Caspian named it. He thinks he’s clever.”
“It is kind of clever,” I admitted.
Federico placed his hand at the small of my back as we approached the entrance. I was hyperaware of that light touch through my black cocktail dress.
The truth? I had shivers shooting down my spine.
“Remember,” he murmured close to my ear when we bypassed the line and walked through a private entrance, “this is a legitimate business. We pay taxes. We have licenses. The only thing slightly off-book is who owns it.”
“And where some of the money comes from and goes,” I added. “I’m guessing with so many people coming in, cash deposits aren’t scrutinized?”
“That too.” He looked at me, impressed, and for some reason, that one look filled me with pride.
Inside, the casino was stunning. It was the kind of place that only high rollers came to. From the crystal chandeliers and dim lighting to the modelesque hostesses and free-flowing Dom Pérignon, everything whispered exclusivity. Wall-to-wall carpeting created a hushed atmosphere, private couch sections promised secrecy, and soft live music blurred the edges of reality.
Here, patrons didn’t just expect the best—they paid for it as if money literally meant nothing.
“This is yours?” I whisper, taking it all in.
“The family’s. I manage security mostly,” he explained.
He guided me further into the casino, past tables of blackjack and roulette, past well-dressed patrons absorbed in their games. I noticed how people responded to Federico’s presence. Some with warm smiles, others with deference. A few with fear. The staff straightened as he passed. A few patrons raised their glasses in his direction by way of greeting.
“You’re like a celebrity here,” I observed.
“More like the principal at school,” he said. “No one wants to get called to my office.”
I let out a snort.
“Mr. Lebedev,” a professional-looking woman in a red dress approached. “We weren’t expecting you tonight.”
“Impromptu visit, Mira. This is my wife, Autumn.”
The woman’s eyes widened fractionally before she schooled her expression. “Why, Mrs. Lebedev! It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” I said, feeling oddly formal.
“Everything running smoothly?” Federico asked.
“Yes, Sir. Numbers are good. No incidents this week.” She hesitated. “Although Mr. Dante is here tonight, handling that... situation we discussed.”
I felt Federico tense beside me. “Where?”
“High-roller room. With Mr. Liu.”
“Thank you, Mira.”
She nodded and melted back into the crowd.
“Problem?” I asked quietly.
