Page 71 of Pregnant Bratva Wife
But I did.
She had a thing for sorting invoices and cleaning up the mess my men left behind. Not the blood kind—just the disorganized, chaotic shit they’d never notice. And I had a thing for watching her do it. Brow furrowed, hair tied up, mumbling to herself while flipping through stacks of papers like she wassolving crimes. She made the boring parts feel important, like even the ugly parts of my life could be handled gently.
I told myself that was all it was. Gratitude. Utility. Nothing more.
I lied.
And every day, she slipped further under my skin.
I sat in my office at The Royal Flush, pretending to review security reports while actually waiting for Autumn, who was due any minute to give me a daily brief.
“You’re staring at that clock like it owes you money,” Dante said, appearing in my doorway. He walked in without invitation, dropped into the chair across from me, and propped his feet on my desk like the disrespectful little shit he was.
I shoved his feet off. “Don’t you have your own office to destroy?”
“Yours is more fun. Speaking of fun, your wife’s winning over the staff. Heard she threw the head chef a surprise birthday party last week.”
I leaned back in my chair. “That’s Autumn for you.”
“And you’re not worried about her digging too deep?” Dante raised an eyebrow.
“She’s only handling the legitimate side.” I kept my voice casual, but we both knew this was dangerous territory. Bringing Autumn into any part of the business carried risks—for her and for us.
“If you say so.” Dante’s eyes narrowed. “But that’s not why you’re watching the clock, is it?”
I shot him a look that would have sent most men running. Dante just grinned wider.
“You’re not even trying to hide it anymore. You go all soft when she walks in.”
“I don’t go soft,” I growled.
“Not what I heard,” he teased.
I reached for the paperweight on my desk. “Say one more word, and this is going through your skull.”
He raised his hands in surrender, but the smirk didn’t leave his face. “All I’m saying is, I’ve never seen you like this. And it’s... nice.”
Nice. Like I was some lovestruck teenager instead of a grown man with a business arrangement. I opened my mouth to tell him exactly how wrong he was when my phone buzzed.
A text from Autumn:Running 10 minutes late. Got held up at the bank. Don’t send a search party.
I felt myself smiling before I could stop it. I quickly schooled my expression, but it was too late. Dante had seen.
“God, you’re a lost cause,” he said, standing. “I’ll leave you to your pining. Oh, and Caspian wants to see you before the meeting tonight.”
He left before I could throw something at his head. I turned back to my reports, but my concentration was gone. After a few minutes of staring at the same paragraph, I gave up and headed to the floor.
I remembered the day last week when we’d bumped into Caspian as we were leaving the casino. Autumn had been walking beside me, carrying a folder of reports she wanted to review at home. I’d warned her against taking work outside the building, but she’d insisted, saying she had a theory about a pattern in the cash flows.
“Federico! Autumn!” Caspian stopped us in our path. “Just the people I wanted to see.”
Autumn had smiled warmly. “Caspian, hi. How are you?”
“Better now that I’ve heard what you’ve been up to.” He’d turned to me with an approving nod. “Smart move, bringing her in. I’ve seen the reports.”
“Reports?” Autumn had asked.
“About the thieves you caught.” Caspian’s eyes gleamed with appreciation. “Two dealers and a floor supervisor, right? Working together to skim from the high roller tables?”
